Eden's Edge (Worm/Sonnie's Edge [Love, Death, and Robots])
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In Which Annette Is a Bit Intense. 🔪
Her daughter is a Useless Lesbian. 🏳️‍🌈
And the Dallon Family has Issues. ☠
Last edited:
Index + Incubation 1.1

WhoAmEye

Bunker-Dwelling Cryptid
Location
Vault Birb
Pronouns
She/Her
Eden's Edge

A story of monsters, beasts, more monsters, nazis getting their shit kicked in (eventually), and more monsters.



Index: look at the threadmarks please @~@
Very speciail thankyou to my cowriter/coauthor/coconspirator and wife @hellgodsrus for writing this with me. And also the people on discord for helping keeping me focused through discussion. Feedback is, as always, valued and loved. Discussion is an author's wet dream. I forgto what else I needed tosay, but thank you also to the betas for caving in to my validation demands! I hope you guys enjoy



Eden's Edge
Incubation
1.1
-.-.-

An hour is too goddamn long for lunch, I thought, settling into my usual spot with my tray of food. Slice of pizza today! But, back to my train of thought, because Chris does not need that much free time to talk.

It wasn't like I didn't appreciate the company - Arcadia was a lonely place, especially given the obvious - but he just would not shut up. Well. On days like today, anyway.

"Chris," I waved my hand in his face and he paused mid-rant about some idiot on PHO, "Did you remember to take your meds this morning?"

Blissful silence for a whole five seconds as the cogs worked over in his brain. "Shit. Uh. No, I didn't. I've been rambling again, haven't I?"

"It's fine. I - forget my meds sometimes too. And to answer your question…" I raised an eyebrow at him. "A little bit. I used to be kind of a chatterbox too though, so - pot calling kettle."

"Right." His smile was sheepish. It was kind of adorable. Not that I was thinking of him that way - not that he'd ever think of me that way in the first place - Mom would kill me for even considering going anywhere with anyone, let alone a boy - "Um. That might explain a couple of issues I had in class…"

"Math still kicking your ass, huh?" I took a bite - mmm. Pineapple. Suckit, haters, Hawaiian was delicious.

"Somedays it feels like the numbers actually fly off the page to beat me." He groaned. "Hey, your mom's a teacher, right?"

"She does English Literature, not algebra." I smirked. "If you need help figuring out that blue curtains symbolises the depression of man, then she might tutor you." God forbid she ask me about that. Who is this boy? Why did you bring him home? Why did you tell him I could help? Is he a friend?

The blue curtains thing was also unfair. She was more - Beowolf, and talking about the linguistics of Tolkien. Or she had been, before she'd decided being fun was somehow too dangerous for me. I still didn't get that - the worst it could do was give me a papercut, or I could drop something on my foot. Ugh.

"Bluh." He noised, shaking his head and finally starting to eat. He'd gotten here before me so that expression on his face when he realised he bit into cold pizza was hilarious.

"Maybe you could call your parents and ask them to deliver."

"Can't." He sighed. "Too late in the day, I'd be up all night." And he did always look tired.

Was a better look than mine, at any rate. Then again, sea slugs had a better look than me. It wasn't just - the obvious stuff, or the seizures I'd have sometimes, it was also that on top of that the base material was awful too. Skinny in the wrong places, fat in the others. Not fit - it wasn't like Mom would let me out to exercise. Not really that smart. I wasn't friendly, or convivial.

No-one really hated me at Arcadia - or no-one wanted to say they did, at the very least - but I didn't really have friends either. Chris was probably the only person I could consider close to a friend - he sort of looked past all that. Might have been his own dyscalculia and ADHD making him as much of an outcast as I was.

At least people didn't do a double take when they first saw him, looks of shock turning to pity. I hated that. People trying to talk to me slower and softer like I was a fragile porcelain doll or something - I got enough of that at home. People looking away, or trying not to look disgusted - that also sucked, but I knew what to do with that. People skirting around it, not mentioning it in the hopes it would go away, that they could tell what I was saying always, that my voice wasn't sometimes garbled and just as broken as my face - that was about the best I could hope for.

And then there was Victoria Dallon. The girl who took one look at me, flinched and started to raise her fists before apologising profusely and offering to get her sister to heal me.

I told her on no uncertain terms to fuck off and stay the hell away from me. At least she'd listened and obeyed.

Miracle healer or not, Panacea didn't do cosmetic touch ups. Or brains. Letting her would just be - admitting I'm the ultimate pity case. Victoria'd probably expect me to be eternally grateful for the help. Panacea probably wouldn't. What little I'd seen of her in the distance of the lunch halls showed her to be just as broody as I was with a tenth of the reason. And I might have hated Victoria, but she seemed nice to everyone, or trying to be. Didn't sic her groupies on me for daring to not kneel at her feet.

Why the hell did everyone like her, anyway? She could fly, she was invincible, but every time she looked like she was glowing with pride, everyone around her seemed to just be in awe of her. Like, woo, yay, congratulations Vicky, you have lots and lots of friends and gave a really moral lecture.

Maybe it was that whatever part of her power made her float did nice things to her chest. Not that I was planning on adding to my own little pity party by getting envious about that again. Ughhh.

An hour is too goddamn long to be left alone with my own thoughts.

"Earth to Taylor."

I glared at Chris, who raised his hands in surrender sheepishly. "Sorry. You were zoning out again."

"Urghhh."

"You've really got that 'death glare into the middle distance' brooding look down, y'know?"

I bopped his shoulder a little bit too hard. "Shut up, you dork." I couldn't help the grin tugging at my lips, but hey, if a girl can't be pretty, at least I can look kinda badass, right? All these scars had to be good for something.

Then we started talking about capes, about that one time Shadow Stalker had been caught monologuing to herself while brooding on the edge of a building, the latest PHO theories on whatever inane gadget Armsmaster had installed into his Halberd (a bottle opener? Really? Why?), and the latest stunt Uber and Leet had pulled.

I'd actually been enjoying myself, forgetting the rest of the world and just - talking mindless shit with Chris. Poking fun at celebrities. Conjuring up insane situations. I might have even laughed at some point.

Alas, lunch ended far too soon.

-.-.-

I had to hurry to get to the bus on time, because if I missed it - well. That'd only happened once before, and I was never planning to let it happen again.

Mom had been apocalyptically upset with me for not letting her pick me up. Probably because she drove out anyway and when I got home she wasn't there - which never happened anymore - and I'd had some peace and quiet for a bit.

I'll admit it had been very tempting to try sneak into the basement, see what she was hiding down there, but… I couldn't pick locks and it was probably just Dad's old stuff.

Privileges of being first on, I got the best seat, riiiight at the back, where I could keep my hoodie up and my head down and just play games on my phone or something instead of being stared at or wondering what the people behind me were thinking when they saw my face. Paranoia was apparently genetic; good to know.

My solitude lasted two stops.

"Hey, Taylor!"

Well. I had been having a good day.

I swiveled my head to glare into the face of my EX-best friend. Not that I had a new best friend yet, but I wasn't in a hurry for one. Not after how she turned out. And now she knew my bus schedule. The schedule I couldn't change because Mom would lecture me about safety. Fuck.

"What the hell do you want?" I grunted as she sat next to me.

"I was - I was hoping we could talk a bit. How was your week at Arcadia? Winslow's been fun, though Mr. Gladly is just such a suckup - "

"Reminds me of someone else I know." I turned my face away from her, looked out the window instead. Why did it have to be such a lovely weather? Entirely inappropriate for my current turmoil. "My week's been okay, up until now." Take the hint and fuck off you hypocritical piece of -

"Great! Um. Do you want to go see that new movie that's out some time - "

I sat up and glared at her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my temple. "Why, Emma? Why the hell would I want to go see a movie with you? Ever since I woke up, you've been either a total bitch or sucking up when you think no-one's looking. I don't know who you're showing off for, why you're doing it, or what the fuck you get out of it, but why can't you just leave me alone?" I shifted my bag out of my lap and into the seat between us, forcing her to shuffle back. "You've made it abundantly clear you don't want to be seen with me." My voice felt - urgh. Like my tongue was fat and saliva was glue. "So just - just -"

My body felt - brittle, out of my control - fuck, not - not now - shaking -

My vision flickered, splitting, shimmering, my lungs felt full of mud, choking, shuddering -

Emma under my arm, hauling me, fresh air, dark room, birds singing, lights flickering, machines beeping, water wet and warm, full belly - froth on my face in the canyons of my scars -

I -

-.-.-

Shouting. I could hear shouting. Mom was angry again. But she wasn't yelling at me? Why was I on the couch? I was - on the bus. I was on the bus and hissing at Emma, claws unfurling to - to berate her for being her, flipflopping between bitch and brown-noser like a gambler tossed a coin.

I put a hand to my head and it felt - wrong. Sweaty and - urgh. I was going to need a bath - shower. Soak in the tube - tub. Sitting up felt so far beyond me, I could barely even get my eyes open.

" - fucking trying to kill her, don't know what I would expect but this is a new, apalling low, Emma."

Aaaah. Shit. For all I disliked Emma now, even she didn't quite deserve to be thrown into the deep end of one of Mom's… moments. "'M okay," I mumbled, trying to raise my hand. It hit something, but it was just thin air and kept going. My hair twitched in confusion. "Mmgh." Shaking my head, gnashing my teeth, running my tongues over them…

Waking up from seizures always sucked, but this one had been even more draining than normal. If it weren't for my stupid hearing implant, I might actually be able to go get an MRI and see what was wrong with me.

"I didn't - Mrs. Hebert I know you're upset - "

"I don't think you have any idea of the fury that fills me you stupid little girl. You tried to take Taylor away from me. You brought her to me hiding your poison with attempts at contrition - " A long pause. "Get out of my house, Emma. Get out now. I'll call your mother to talk about this later."

"I -"

"GET OUT!"

Scampering across the floor, door slamming shut.

Huh. Maybe Mom could put her overprotectiveness to a good cause for once. Not having to deal with Emma again would be a blessing.

I managed to open my eyes, blink with all three lids, and - "M-Mom?" Everything was so dark. I - I wasn't blind now too, was I? There were little pinpricks of light but they were too fuzzy to make out. I couldn't panic, not now, not now, Mom would never let me leave the house again -

I flinched when her hand touched my cheek. She drew in breath to speak but paused, probably noticing my shivering. Why did I have so many fingers? "It's okay. I'm here now. It's okay." Kiss on my cheek. "I love you so much, Taylor. Just hold on. I'm here. I'm here…"

"M- Mom, I -" I tried to wrap my arms around her but they felt curled around me, fingertips sharp and digging between hard plates. "Ow. W-why - I can't see - "

Mom froze. Swore quietly under her breath. "I need you to do something for me, Taylor. Can you promise me you won't freak out?"

NO! I was already freaking out! "I - I don't know -"

She moved away. I could hear her opening up the door to the basement. A crack of light filtered into my vision, a bubble rising past my eye - what the fuck? - and the light spread further to reveal Mom standing at the top of the stairs. My vision focused sharply on her, and I could - see the veins move subtly with every beat of her heart, the tension in her muscles, the inflamed skin around her eyes like when she'd been crying -

I held my breath, tried not to scream.

"Oh, Taylor. Oh - oh god I'm so sorry."

I held up my hand to the glass - smacked it against the coffee table - four fingers, thumb, all armour plated, clawed, vicious tools of a predator - and - and -

I screamed.

-.-.-
 
Last edited:
Incubation 1.2
WOO! MORE HAPPENS!
Special thank you to my coauthor and lovely @hellgodsrus and the many betas helping feed me validation. Feedback and thoughts are loved!


Eden's Edge
Incubation
1.2
-.-.-

I screamed until I couldn't any more, Mom holding my head close to her chest, fingers going through my hair -

She found the implant, the useless piece of metal that stopped me from getting a brain scan, that didn't stop the world sound like I was listening through liquid, pressed between my ear and my skull, hot and wet and thrashing against the glass -

She vanished. My - skin felt different, felt rough, felt tough. I'd gone from spread out on the couch to curled up in a tank, my tail-hair whipping the water into a frenzy -

"Taylor!" Mom was at the door again, looking worried. Why was she worried?! I was the monster! "Shhh, shh, calm down, it's okay, I'll explain everything in a moment. Please," she put her hand to the glass and it was so small. "Please. Just stay calm. Just for a moment. I need to - I didn't think I'd need them, but I can use the stereo system - just wait for a moment, little owl, I'm so sorry."

Little owl - I wasn't little, and I didn't feel like an owl. My legs had too many joints, why did it feel like my big toe was on the back, why could I feel my hair/nothair -

I shrunk down. There wasn't much room, but there was enough to move, to curl up and hide my eyes -somany- behind my… knees? Fore-knees? First knees? I could feel the water moving into my chest, back up my throat, finding a barrier and pushing out slits in my neck - Ihavefuckinggills- and it all felt so wrong. Like I was back in my nightmares.

The basement door swung open again, and Mom was - carrying something down the stairs. My body. She was carrying my body. Something in my neck tensed and a part of me I didn't have a name for moved, sliding against the glass.

"It'll be okay, sweetie. It'll be okay. Just - just a little longer." Putting my body down in front of the tank, in front of me - meinfrontofme - then pressing her hand to the glass, looking up at me. "Just another minute, Taylor."

I tried to ask what was going on, but my voice came out as a warbled blurbled skreee. What the hell is going on, Mom?! Why am I a monster?! HOW AM I A MONSTER?! WERE THE SCARS NOT ENOUGH?!

"Soon. I'll hook the speakers up, then you can talk and I'll - try to answer, okay? I just need to get them from upstairs." She pressed her hand against the glass again. "I love you so much. I'll be right back." Dashing away into blurriness up the stairs - skree skree skree went my throat.

Leaving me alone with myself.

My eyes were still open. Lips parted. The scars were in the wrong direction - no. No, they weren't, because I wasn't looking in a mirror. Great big jagged slashes down my face, from my right temple to the left side of my jaw, twisting my mouth.

My vision sharpened and my mouth watered as I watched, veins throbbing, chest rising, living prey - no, no, no, what the fuck - even if I was going to eat myself, it wasn't going to be like that! Never!

I let out a whining skriee and tried to look away. It was like standing over my own grave, but I wasn't dead yet. Or was I? Had I died? Is that why I was - this?

Mom came back down the stairs with the stereo in her arms. "It's going to take a moment to set up, I'm - I'm so sorry I've been - well, I didn't want to tell you at first, and then it was hard to - to bring up, and we always seemed to be butting heads… hold on." Stereo down on the work bench. Bending over it, doing something. "It's probably easiest if I… there. Talk."

"WHY THE FUCK AM I A MONSTER?!"

I could - my voice didn't come from either of me, it came from the stereo. Hearing my voice like that was so strange - especially without the lisps and stumbles I associated with my speech after the accident. It was also loud, and Mom winced, fiddling with a dial on the stereo.

"You're not a monster. You're not. You're just - the accident." Her shoulders were shaking. "Sorry. I am trying to explain but it's hard. Can you give me a second to find the right words?"

"No."

She winced. "That's… that's fair. Okay. So, um. When you first got into the hospital you - you remember that you didn't. Wake up at first?"

"I was kind of in a coma, so no, I don't really remember." Oh, wow, I had six eyebrow-equivalents to glare with now. "I remember waking up at home, with you standing over me." Crying and holding tools I couldn't recognise. Holding me and telling me it had been weeks. Months. A whole quarter of a year, gone.

"Yes. Well." Mom shuffled over to me, sat down beside my body and lifted my head into her lap. "The accident. Your skull it, um. Your body was broken. Not in a way that the doctors were able to fix. But I couldn't let you die, and they said there was a chance so - the insurance didn't cover all of it - " She paused. "It wasn't your fault. I'm not - I know you might think that I think that but I never do, I promise." She probably blamed Emma. It had been her sleepover we were going to. "But they didn't know how to fix you and it cost more and more and then one day, um. One day they said that. That you weren't ever going to wake up. Your body had suffered too much trauma and, um. The only thing keeping you alive was them and the insurance."

Her voice was so quiet. Hunched over my body, hand in my hair.

"So you took me home." I frowned - which felt weird - "And nobody had any issues when I did wake up?" Confusion was overtaking rage for a moment - because if I got angry I - wouldn't get answers. And I needed answers.

"That's not what happened first." Her voice was still very quiet. "I, um. They told me I had to pull your plug and I couldn't and then. Then I had thoughts and I didn't have to."

"Mom?"

"I - built a thing. It let me take a - sort of a picture of you, of your mind, of your body." She rubbed her wrist on her thigh. "It wasn't really built for that but I made it do it, it - was so hard to build, I didn't have enough platinum or m-ray emitters - "

Well, that - confirmed she was a Tinker, at any rate. "Mom, less technobabble, more explanations please? What - did this thing do to me?"

"Nothing. But it let me - " She ran a hand down the side of my face. Pressed the other one to the glass. "My - my power. It's designed to allow me to make creatures. Then install controllers in myself to pilot them. But your body was so broken. I - did it the other way round."

Wait. "I - hang on. You made a creature with my mind - me - and got me to pilot… your daughter's body?"

"You are my daughter. No matter your body. Don't ever think you're not." She glared up at me through the liquid and glass. I - felt a little guilty for that one.

"Is - is my mind mine or a copy? I - I can't tell and - am I real? I feel real."

"Of course you're real - um. I don't think now is the time for a debate about the nature of the self and ontology but if I made a copy of you right now it would also be you. You are you and you are my beautiful daughter and I'm - I'm so sorry I couldn't do more."

"I… I don't know how to handle this. I want to be mad, or scared, or -" I pressed my claws - talons - whatever the fuck they were - up against the glass gently. My prison. "Can I even go into shock in this body?"

"Yes the - the neurochemistry is the same as a human mind. Brain. I could have - I thought about making changes, giving you, um. Options. But that's not - it wouldn't have been my choice to make."

"Okay… I think we might have gotten a bit distracted, can we go back to where the doctors told you to pull the plug on me? You built the thing, and then what happened?"

"I built your new - home. The body you're talking to me through right now. You were so small and I - I had to be so careful putting your mind inside it, and getting the nutrient mix right - you won't believe how many health scares I've had for you - and then I. Told the doctors I was taking you home for private care. And when you got here I had to." She swallowed. "I had to cut open your skull and install the implant."

Is that why my skull sometimes itches? I floated there for a moment, just - trying to take it all in. "You told me it was a hearing implant."

"It is. It lets your body hear your thoughts. What you want to do."

Okay, kind of twisty misleading logic there, but okay. "I - okay." Curling my hair-tentacles-tail around myself. I was surprised I could do that so easily. So naturally. "Did - anybody suspect anything when I woke up? I don't - really remember things too well back then."

She hunched over on herself. "There were some questions. I ensured there weren't any more."

I blinked. Which was kind of weird because each set blinked separately so I never lost sight. "Mom, did you kill them?" Please say no, please say no, please say no...

"No! Of course not I - I could have, but I didn't. I don't - do that kind of thing."

"Sorry that - the way you said that sounded like something you'd hear on TV about the mob bosses or gang leaders 'making sure nobody talks'. I'm - glad nobody was hurt?" I really wasn't sure how to take this. At all. What am I? "So - why didn't you…" I paused. "Right, Protectorate would probably be considered too dangerous - wait, why is everything too dangerous for me? I'm - my human body could be killed but I'd be fine."

"Because you could still get hurt, your - this body kept getting sick, and growing more and more, because I'd built it so fast at first and making sure you stayed alive that the connection didn't go wrong…" Mom rubbed at her face. "More wrong, I knew I'd gotten it wrong when you started having the seizures but I couldn't - cut into your head again, and I wanted to tell you but - fuck. Fuck!" She curled around my other body.

I reached out - blocked by the glass again. Skrierrr…

"I'm sorry, Mom. Please - cut into my head again. I still have school tomorrow."

"No you don't, I'll call them and tell them you're recovering from a particularly bad seizure, and - and we can have a couple of days to - talk." She shuddered. "I need to build up the nerve to do that again. And I need to see if I can salvage the implant or if I need to make a new one." She rubbed at her face. "I don't know where I'll get the money for it…"

… was I seriously about to suggest this?

"I uh. Seem to be a super-strong monster now. I could totally go raid a drug den or something for cash. The city could always use a few less Nazis, right?" Somehow the speaker even caught my nervous chuckle.

"No! No - I'm not doing - any of that stuff. I'm not risking you or - I'm not going to leave you alone. I won't."

"Mom, I'm - I feel kinda like I'm twelve-foot-tall and bulletproof."

"That's because you're a teenager."

"Actually I'm pretty sure it's because I'm a twelve-foot-tall bulletproof monster."

"Stop - calling yourself that. You're not a monster."

I sighed heavily. "Mom. Look at my face. I've been thinking of myself as a monster for years, I just - never realised how accurate it was. That and I also have no idea what else I'm meant to call my new twelve-foot-tall bulletproof body with like - four tails for hair and hyper-predator instincts."

"It's not bulletproof. When this started I promised myself no cape nonsense."

"I honestly think we're a little bit past that, Mom. What with me being a basement dwelling thing from the deep piloting a human body to school." I chuckled. It was - so surreal when I put it like that. "Is there… anything stopping you from making me bulletproof? Because I'd be so much more safer if I was."

"Time. Money. The fact that you're not going to be indulging in this - this costumed frippery?"

"But Moooooooomm!" I whined. "This - isn't something that can be kept secret forever, y'know. Even if you have somehow managed that for so many years with me, it's - you could join the Protectorate, maybe? They pay well, I think -"

"No! They'd not understand you or any of it. I'll just - make sure you're well and that'll be all." She stroked my hair one last time, then stood up. "Now, do you want anything to read? Do you have any homework you need to get done?"

I blinked at her several times. "I don't think I could manage either of those things like this. My hands are kind of… claw-y. And wet. Are you sure I couldn't try - moving around or something? Now that I'm over the whole 'holy shit I'm not actually human!' part, this is kind of cool."

That and the mental image of me in my current form trying to sit at my desk with glasses on and pencil in hand was kind of hilarious. I was so big!

"The basement is too small for you and I can't open the outside hatch. Answer the question."

"I'm caught up on homework. I can't think of any book that'll hold my attention compared to realization I'm a cape kid." I shimmered - like shivering, but with more armour plate moving.

"Well, then I need to go to the store to get - equipment and supplies. I won't be long."

I sighed wistfully. "Oh, okay. I'll just stay here, all on my lonesome, exploring my new body…" I ran my hands down my arms and - wow. That felt weird. Twisting around in my tank - it was small and cramped and there were tubes leading to me but they were sturdy and I think this one went down my throat. Must have been the full belly feeling from earlier. I wondered if I had genetalia right now. Would kinda suck if I didn't.

"Taylor! Phrasing."

I just cackled heartily. "Oh, um, before you go, could you uhm… close my eyes? It's - kind of getting creepy just… watching myself look so… notquitedead?"

"... okay." Mom relented and put my body into a less uncomfortable looking position - I could pretend I was just watching myself sleep and that wasn't a creepy thought at all - before kissing my forehead and walking briskly up the stairs out of the basement.

The door wasn't completely closed, so I still had a sliver of light.

Now… now I didn't have an audience, exploring my body felt… less appealing. She probably had cameras watching the tank just in case something went wrong anyway. I would, if - if our positions were reversed, anyway.



Man, who knew being a twelve-foot-tall bulletproof-ish monster could be so boring. I could probably sleep like this, right? Just… counting sheep. One delicious mutton sandwich, two delicious mutton sandwich, three delicious mutton…

-.-.-
 
The Grand Pizza Conspiracy: Wait, What?
And then there was Victoria Dallon. The girl who took one look at me, flinched and started to raise her fists before apologising profusely and offering to get her sister to heal me.
What's the raising her fists thing about? Even if Taylor is just that scarred up, it seems like an odd reaction.

Also, Annette's plan would have been totally screwed if Panacea had tried to heal Taylor and realized that she had no brain (or, realistically, probably just a very different brain; but it's funnier to think about just a complete lack of brains up there). Honestly, it's still a risk. They could easily brush past each other in the hallway without really realizing it:

Wait, what?
Amy groaned inwardly as she forced her way through the throngs of students cluttering Arcadia's hallways, each trying to be the first into the cafeteria. As if pushing and shoving would actually get them there faster than standing in line. Though, considering that was exactly what she was doing herself, maybe she wasn't one to talk.

Here we go, she thought. Time to see what's wrong with all my classmates. Boy, oh boy.

It was times like this when she really hated her power. Not that she ever really liked it. Victoria had suggested wearing gloves as a possible solution to the information overload she got from it, but Amy had shot down that idea. It felt too much like letting her power win.

Malnutrition, her power informed her as her hand brushed against a boy on the basketball team. She was momentarily surprised before realizing that the problem had arisen because the boy had been eating exclusively pizza for the past few months. She barely contained a noise of disgust, seeing what it had done to his body.

Cold, early stages. Her power told her as she passed a tall, thin boy who desperately needed a shave.

Type 1 Diabetes. One of the freshmen boys.

Dislocated shoulder, two years ago. A girl with dyed blue hair.

Skinned knee.

Smoker.

Brain is missing.

Small burn on left hand.


Amy almost choked as her conscious thoughts came crashing to a halt with all the force of a runaway steamroller. Brain is missing!?! Her power had to have been wrong. It had to have been! She whirled around, but the girl in question was already gone, disappearing into the crowd. Just walking away as if she didn't have a completely empty cranial cavity.

It didn't make sense.

Brain is missing?

Just... what!?!

"You okay, Ames?"

Amy started, realizing she had been standing in one place for almost thirty seconds. Victoria was now standing beside her, giving her an extremely concerned look. "Yeah," she said, still staring in the direction the brainless girl had gone, as if she might somehow be able to make her reappear by doing so.

She forced herself to turn away. "Yup," she repeated a moment later in a tone so forced that even she didn't really believe it. "All good, here. Sorry. Guess my brain just went missing for a minute, there."

Victoria snorted. "Okay. Well, it better hurry back or they're going to be out of pizza by the time we get in line."

Oh. Pizza.

Amy gagged at the thought.

Why the hell did everyone like her, anyway? She could fly, she was invincible, but every time she looked like she was glowing with pride, everyone around her seemed to just be in awe of her. Like, woo, yay, congratulations Vicky, you have lots and lots of friends and gave a really moral lecture.

Maybe it was that whatever part of her power made her float did nice things to her chest. Not that I was planning on adding to my own little pity party by getting envious about that again. Ughhh.
Oh, hey, just Taylor being casually immune to Victoria's aura and being completely oblivious about it. I really should have caught on to her already having been placed in the Khanivore body, at this point. Nope. Apparently, her waking up in the tank to make me realize.
My solitude lasted two stops.

"Hey, Taylor!"

Well. I had been having a good day.

I swiveled my head to glare into the face of my EX-best friend. Not that I had a new best friend yet, but I wasn't in a hurry for one. Not after how she turned out. And now she knew my bus schedule. The schedule I couldn't change because Mom would lecture me about safety. Fuck.

"What the hell do you want?" I grunted as she sat next to me.

"I was - I was hoping we could talk a bit. How was your week at Arcadia? Winslow's been fun, though Mr. Gladly is just such a suckup - "

"Reminds me of someone else I know." I turned my face away from her, looked out the window instead. Why did it have to be such a lovely weather? Entirely inappropriate for my current turmoil. "My week's been okay, up until now." Take the hint and fuck off you hypocritical piece of -

"Great! Um. Do you want to go see that new movie that's out some time - "

I sat up and glared at her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my temple. "Why, Emma? Why the hell would I want to go see a movie with you? Ever since I woke up, you've been either a total bitch or sucking up when you think no-one's looking. I don't know who you're showing off for, why you're doing it, or what the fuck you get out of it, but why can't you just leave me alone?" I shifted my bag out of my lap and into the seat between us, forcing her to shuffle back. "You've made it abundantly clear you don't want to be seen with me." My voice felt - urgh. Like my tongue was fat and saliva was glue. "So just - just -"
I am very curious to find out what exactly happened between these two.
 
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Vicky's No Good Bad Day of First Impressions
To go into more detail on the Vicky encounter, here's how it probably went from her point of view:

Long day. Long... long day. Hate patrols like that, hate the Empire. Can I get away with falling asleep in history? Probably not - woah, she should watch where she's going - hoodie - scary face (*flashes of dealing with gangers the previous night, starts to raise hands on instinct) wait what the actual fuck am I doing this is some poor disabled girl what's wrong with me aaaand she noticed, damnit, hate hate hate patrols like that.
 
Incubation 1.3
DDUN DUN MOTHERFUCKING DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
Special thank you to my coauthor and lovely wife @hellgodsrus and the many betas helping feed me validation. Feedback and thoughts are loved! Extra special thank you to @LacksCreativity , @32nd_freeze , and @Tamahori for their help in deciding some significant plot points!

Incubation
1.3
-.-.-

"I'm home!"

I snorted water and yawned. Oh. I could sleep like this. Good to know. But now I had an entirely different problem. I did not have enough room to stretch. Not that I felt stiff or anything, but - it was a habit!

"Hi, Mom. Still here in the basement." I could hear the yawn over the speakers. I wondered how it picked up on what I wanted to say and didn't just - blare out every single thought I had.

She was over by the table with my speakers on it, my - human body? I still didn't know how to refer to it. It was next to her, propped up against the table while she unpacked things from a set of shopping bags.

"Did you enjoy your rest, Taylor?"

"It was… weird. I think I started counting sheep but at some point started referring to them as mutton sandwiches. Are - are things going to be different now that I'm… aware of this?" I always felt kinda weirdly hungry no matter how much I ate...

"No, they shouldn't be. We'll just - keep on going on." Batteries and calculators and lots of other electronic bits and bobs, each being carefully laid down on the table. I couldn't really make heads or tails of any of it but she was sorting through it like it was second nature to her. Guess it might have been.

"Mom, I - I'm not sure we can keep on going on." I put a paw - claw - hand - thing - up to the glass. Gently. I wasn't sure how strong I was. "I mean, for starters, I'm a teenager. Who has just discovered puberty hit her like a monster truck."

Her gaze snapped to me. "You're not a monster."

"I thought it was a good joke…" I mumbled.

"It's important. Monster has connotations. Meanings of - otherness and solitude and being incorrect. You are not incorrect or wrong just because of your situation."

"Wait, is that what you always meant when you said that when I talked about my scars?"

"It's the same principle." Mom ripped open a packet of batteries. "Now, what did Emma do on the bus that caused this mess? Did she hit your cranial casing - your head. Damnit. Sorry."

"Uh. No. She - well, for starters, she was on the bus, which is a problem because I kind of hate her and - no offense, Mom, but you're kinda intense. If she figured out my bus schedule, I'm doomed because I can't change it. I guess the stress just piled up and then she uh… asked if I wanted to go see a movie with her. I… kinda got mad at her and called her out on her shitty flip-flopping behaviour and had another seizure."

"Well. I'll bring it up with Zoe when I speak to her then. I know Alan spoils her, but Emma really needs to learn better self-control." A pause. "And we'll discuss altering your travel timetable after this." Was self-control really what Emma's problem was? Meh. Not worth wasting brainpower on trying to figure it out.

"Greeaat." I groaned, slumping in the tube. "So, if I'm not a monster, then what am I? Because currently, pretty sure 'human' isn't entirely accurate."

"You're a human in an altered physical state."

"That's a mouthful, Mom." I chuckled. "Even if I have the mouth for it."

She rolled her eyes. "A human with extreme body dysmorphia, then."

"Uh - hang on, wouldn't that mean my body is… uncomfortable though? Moving around in here feels as natural as anything, and - I don't know what the equivalent of hair-tentacles are on the human body, but…" I split them and waggled each of them separately. "No control issues so far."

"Are you arguing the point for the sake of arguing?"

"I think I'm allowed to be a little upset at the fact that you've kept this from me for god knows how long?" I squirmed in discomfort. "Sorry. I - you saved my life. Thank you. But still, this - this is not an easy thing to get over."

"I did want to tell you." Her nails picked at the plastic wrapping on each battery. "I couldn't… find a way, before."

"I think I understand why. But… yeah." I sighed. "So… if I'm not a monster… a predator?"

"Taylor!" Mom slammed her hands down on the workbench. "That's just as bad as monster!"

"Right. Connotations and stuff. Pretty sure I'm a carnivore, at least, so uh… beast?"

"Implying you're a mindless wild animal. No."

"Beast...y? Beastie? Like bestie but - ugh, no, I can't sound that peppy."

"What's wrong with 'being'? Or 'non-humanoid'?"

"Being is like - way too broad. Like alien. And - I feel kind of humanoid? I have thumbs. Opposable thumbs! Hm." I started playing paper scissors rock with myself. Just because I could. I wasn't very good at it, but I could do it.

"Stop that. Your thumb's saddle joint is fragile."

"What's a saddle joint?" I wiggled my thumbs around for a moment before stopping. "Mom, I -" I didn't know what to say. I don't want to spend my whole life as human when I could be this? I've hated my body ever since the accident but this one feels good and I want that? Don't I get a choice?

"Yes, sweetie?" She was cracking the batteries open now.

"Will I get to experience this body again?"

Mom paused. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I think - we'll need to move you. And now I can - improve the tank. Make you healthier. Now you know. Might stop me from trying to disassemble the toaster when I'm not paying attention. But I want you to have a good - normal, healthy life."

"Mom… my life isn't normal. Healthy is debatable." I sighed.

"As healthy and normal as we can manage then." She cracked the battery with a little more force then made that little hissing noise she did when she wanted to swear but wouldn't in front of me. "I want to see you do… everything you always should've been able to. Graduate. Go to college. Get a good job. Which you can't do in just that body."

"I go to the same school as Panacea. What do I do if she brushes against me and realises I'm not…"

"Well stay away from her then."

I bristled, spines slipping out between my spinal plates. "Accidents happen, Mom. Or something could happen and someone mistakes my scars for injuries and sends her to heal me even if I'm completely fine."

"That seems very unlikely." Mom mutinously cracked another battery. "Besides, she didn't heal you before. I don't know why that would change now." Snap went another battery.

"She didn't have her powers back then." I rolled my many eyes.

She carried on as though I hadn't said anything. "And I don't know why you're so interested in such unlikely hypotheticals. She isn't even in your year-group. And didn't you have some sort of argument with Glory Girl anyway?"

Was Mom really going there? "Oh, we're talking about unlikely hypotheticals now? Like that time I missed my bus and you immediately jumped to 'Taylor's been kidnapped!'?" My muscles tensed, and I had to force myself not to act.

"I didn't immediately jump to that."

"No, you thought I'd gotten into a car crash first."

"It's not like it'd be the first time!"

The words hung between us. Heavy. Mom put her hand over her mouth.

Wow, Mom.

"... maybe you shouldn't bother fixing me. I'm clearly much safer as a prisoner in the basement than anywhere else."

"I didn't mean that." Muffled, her hand still over her mouth.

"Is this why I can't remember Dad? Why the sound of his voice escapes me, why I can only see his face in photographs?"

"No, that shouldn't - " She was shaking her head. "Why would you say that, why would you say that? You can't be - I can't have gotten it wrong."

"Everything before the accident is just - a blur. It's not until I started thinking about it just now that there might be a reason for that, other than just a fucking car crash." I twisted in the tube, angry, depressed, feeling so - helpless.

"No, that shouldn't - I can't have got it wrong." Mom started to rock back and forth in her chair and some small, predator part of me rumbled in pleasure at it, at her wet wide eyes. Fearspice regretsweet.

"Am I your daughter or a facsimile of her, made to pilot her body? Do you think I didn't notice that earlier when we were talking, all of your affection was directed at my corpse?!" I couldn't hold back the growl deep in my throat, didn't know how -

"I can't - you are you, Taylor, and I can't - I can't touch you in the tank." She's started to glare now. "I have sacrificed so much to keep you alive. So fucking much. You have no idea what it has taken, the things I've had to do - " She shook her head with a growl of her own.

I didn't - she always -

I slammed my claws on the glass in frustration.

"We both lost Dad, damnit, but you're still human!" I tried to push off the glass, twist away from her - crack - "AAAH!"

Everything was weightless, tumbling and turning and twisting and bubbling and crashing and ow - cutting, sliding across the floor, tubes ripped from my throat and veins, stinging -

I coughed up water. Whatever had been in my tank. Had been.

"TAYLOR!" Contact - burning, pushing - I tried to scrabble back from it but it returned, gentler. "Oh no no - I thought - I'd tightened the bolts the other week, I thought I'd tightened the bolts - Taylor, I'm here, I'm here - " fearstressgoodmeat -

I slowly opened my eyes. Mom was - there. Over me. Hurting. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I don't know what - I'm sorry." Trying to get an arm around her, get my crest away from something I could damage - I'd flooded the basement. Glass shards were pressing into my side. My tentacle-hair stilling as I realised flailing would just get me cut up even more. My skin felt raw, tender where it wasn't wet.

"It's okay, it's okay - I'm sorry sweetie I never should've said that - you're you, you're human, it's not - I've got to keep you safe, oh god your skin - and the nutrient fluid - "

My skin felt - the parts where the liquid had wicked off me hurt, like I'd rubbed myself raw. I tried to get to my feet - paws? Claws? - and stand up but I was so heavy. It was like my belly was made of lead and my arms made of glass.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was plaintive, childlike. Hands reaching for me. "You - you need to be safe. Oh god. Oh god I almost lost you again, I almost let you get hurt again."

Oh. She was probably in shock. Shit. Uhhh… what did - what did people on TV do when someone was in shock? There was - blankets and chocolate, I think? But we didn't have any of that. As it was she just - keened, curling in on herself.

I couldn't properly hug her like this, but - I wrapped my tentacles around her as gently as I could, trying to ignore the way it hurt, rubbing the liquid off my skin on her clothes.

She blinked, eyes focusing. "Taylor? Oh darling you're - you're hurt and - and the tank! I need - " She blinked rapidly. "Not enough time to build another one. I need you to go upstairs and curl up in the bathtub as much as you can. I'll be back in a moment."

"Okay, Mom. Everything's going to be okay." If only I could believe it myself. "..." I had to stop myself from suggesting we call someone. Panacea could heal, maybe she could fix me? Or - but Mom would just stress out even harder. "Everything's going to be okay."

I crawled up the stairs of the basement, then again to the upper floor. I was so big. The bathtub wasn't the biggest but I managed to curl up… most of me? I could hear Mom downstairs, in the kitchen. Long gasping breaths, trying to hide sobs. The kettle boiling.

Turns out I didn't have tear ducts anymore.

I wanted to help. It was my fault we were in this mess. If I hadn't had that stupid seizure - it was Emma's fault we were in this mess. If - if Mom hadn't needed to replace the implant, if I hadn't lost my temper -

The sound of her pouring out the kettle, refilling it. I was bitter. Bitter but guilty. I wanted to remember Dad. I hated that I couldn't. Kurt and Lacey had… had things to say about him, but I couldn't get past the fuzzy memories there either. I didn't know what to think of this all. It hurt. Emotionally, physically, mentally.

Maybe I could distract myself trying to think of a target to take out my frustrations on. There was the ABB, which had Lung, Oni Lee, and even the Protectorate didn't want to take them on… There was the Empire, but they had even more capes, and were a lot bigger… Hrm. What was that other group called? The… something archer's street?

They were the… druggie clan. Merchants! Right. I didn't think they had hands in our neighbourhood - we were closer to the Empire/ABB borders, last I knew, but far enough on the outskirts of both that we went relatively unmolested. Would they even be this far out?

I wondered what the Protectorate thought of single-mother Tinkers with skeletons in the basement.

… that was inaccurate, I was pretty sure I had a partial exoskeleton. At least, if the small bits of plating over parts of me were any indication.

My skin hurt so much. It itched.

Mom coming up the stairs dragged me out of my thoughts. "This will have to do until I can make a better tank - I'm so sorry - stupid - I hate it, I hate capes, I hate powers - " Into the bathroom, a small sob as she saw me. "Oh, Taylor, your skin's drying out - here. Hold on." The bowl in her hands sloshing as she came closer.

I put the plug in. It was difficult but I managed it. Just in case.

Water with little green bits in, cascading over me. Cool relief where it did, but all too quickly it was gone. "I'll get some more. Just hold on, Taylor. Just hold on…"

I tried a reassuring noise - it didn't come out as reassuring as I'd hoped. Skeereee.

We had a sponge around here somewhere, didn't we? If I could just - grab it with a tentacle-tail thing, I could give myself a sponge-bath. Sorta. There it is. Ow. Okay, only pats. Tentacles were awesome.

Just had to… move very carefully so I didn't break the tub. Or the floor.

Just had to be careful.

-.-.-
 
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Lab Notes
Lab Notes
-.-.-
I'm keeping notes because I probably should try to.

Initial device was successful. Certainly has a lot of data in it. Can't read the data. Device is poorly made, will break in 2 days. I have 2 days to build an alternative body.

[a number of scribbles fill the rest of the page, some smeared by tears]

Biotinkers normally require some kind of dna base but i seem to be making this 'ex nihlo'. Should definitely not tell PRT/Protectorate. Initial embryos made

Initial embryos all dead. 1 day left. Nutrient balance was wrong, water in BB too acidic. Need higher quality incubator and organic base material.

  • Dog? Could i buy a dog? Could I bring myself to kill a dog?
  • Fish????
  • Lobster?
  • ???person???

Second batch working, using microwave as incubator (old incubator broke). Unknown if fetus can accept datapacket. Might have done all of this for nothing. Can't be for nothing. SHE MUST LIVE.

Data seems to have transferred, unknown if success. Fetus had two tumours, had to remove. Dont want either body to be crippled, will need more material for repairs (cephalopod????? More neuraltissue? Not enough money for another dog)

Taylor is alive. Implant installed. I did it. I will never do it again
.

[a page is torn in half]

I've already broken my promise. But it was easier kinder than the truth.

Anything would be.

[a fresh scrawl, in a different coloured pen]

Need to remove Emma from Taylor's life. I warned her last time to stay away from my daughter, and now she's doing it again. Need to investigate more permanent solutions. She cannot do this.

Damn her. Damn her for all that she's done to usher.

Damn me. Damn these fucking thoughts, these fucking words and shapes that do
nothing to really help.

iwanttodie but I can'tbecause then she'll be alone

Screw your courage to the sticking place, girl.
 
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Incubation 1.4
IT IS MY BIRTHDAY! HERE IS YOUR GIFT ENJOY PLZ
Special thank you to my coauthor and lovely wife @hellgodsrus and the many betas helping feed me validation. Feedback and thoughts are loved! Extra special thank you to @LacksCreativity , @32nd_freeze , and @Tamahori for their help in deciding some significant plot points!

Incubation
1.4
-.-.-

"Turning on suspension fluid in three… two… now."

Jets of red, flooding in, filling up the chamber - syrupy and warm and tingly against my raw abraded skin, lifting me up then flowing over and around me, leaving me hanging in the crimson mixture, looking through the glass at Mom's frazzled face as she fiddled with the controls.

Blessed, blessed relief. The horrible itching soothed, and - despite a couple of hiccups involving bubbles - back to using my gills. It still felt weird exhaling down my own neck, but it was good.

So, so good.

I finally managed to rest. It had been - a very long week. A very very long week of living in the bathtub, feeling my skin get more and more raw, my teeth come loose in my jaw, hearing Mom desperately working for days on end and not being able to do anything to help because she wouldn't let me. She'd been working nonstop to make my new tank, to keep my other body alive and breathing, to repair the implant…

Time enough for me to stop trying to deflect reality settling in. I was a monster. After everything that had happened in my life, I wasn't human anymore. I could act like it, sure, but - at the core of it all, I wasn't anymore. I was this. This thing reliant on Mom's power to stay alive.

I had no agency anymore. No - individual freedom. I was never going to escape, never going to be free of the nest.

But if I could, would I? My hands were made to rip and tear. Claws to slice and dice. Teeth to cut through the toughest of meat. Existential crises were a little hard to get over, but - what else did I have? I could obey Mom, go back to having a 'normal' as possible life, forget I ever was a monster, just - keep on keeping on. Or I could do something. Was it wrong for the scarred outcast kid to want an out? A way to not be myself anymore? To be someone worth looking at?

Life was what life was. I couldn't go back to how it was, so I'd just have to live with it.

-.-.-

"Mrrrh." I scrunched my face up - lip twisted to the side - and forced my eyes open. Wiggled my hair - not hair. Hair? Yes, hair. My head felt - lighter than I remembered. And colder. "M-" I coughed. "Mom?"

She was slumped in her office chair, head down, snoring softly. Good. She needed the rest more than I did.

Everything… seemed to be working right. And - the tank up against the far wall of the basement. Me. I finally got to look at myself, and - man, I was ugly. Though, that might just be because of the raw skin and patches where I could see it healing - scabbing over in that wrinkly wet way scabs go when they can't dry out, and… yeah. Looked like I'd been through hell.

I glanced at Mom's desk. She had a notebook open, half-filled with gibberish and another thing with me - my in-tank body - sketched hastily out, covered in notes. Need more armour, increase external survivability (arachnid), grow better skeletal structure (howinsert?), promote bonegrowth internally? Feedmix ideas. NEED TO IMPROVE FLUID RETENTION IN SKIN. sebum?????

I wasn't going to pretend to understand it. All I knew is that it looked like Mom maybe… maybe was considering upgrading me? I doubted it'd be so I could go out and fight crime or anything - more likely so I wouldn't die if I broke the tank again. Which was fair enough - this week had been hell.

Now, how do I get Mom to bed? I rubbed at my ear - itchy, had she cut into me to install the implant again? Last I'd checked she'd been trying to make something that would grow through this body's skull - getting distracted. I could try and wake her up, help her up the stairs, but - if she was awake and realised I was awake, there was little chance of getting her back to sleep.

Buuuut, I wasn't exactly Alexandria, so…

"Hey, Mom?" I whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Moooom? Bed's upstairs."

She murmured something, but flapped an arm at me. Eh, it'd do. I put her arm around my shoulder and she barely supported her own weight like some kind of - mom-zombie, stumbling alongside, leaning into me.

"D'nny?"

My fists clenched. She's asleep, it's okay.

"Tr'd to keep her safe…"

"You did," I murmured back, pausing on the stairs, keeping her from falling back down. Maybe I should have just put her on the couch. That would have been the smart thing to do but - getting back down the stairs would be way harder than getting up the rest. Damnit. "You kept her safe."

Her. Not me. I - was still having doubts over whether or not I was the original Taylor. I hoped I was, but - it ate at me more than I'd like to admit.

"Not enough… owl?" Her eyes were blinking more open. "Shouldn't be moving around, the control network is settling in and there will have been neural degeneration - "

"I feel fine, Mom. But you were passed out in your chair. So -" I got us to the top and pushed open her door with my foot. "Let's get you to bed, okay? I'll - I'll stay with you."

Would probably need to change the sheets in the morning, I wasn't sure whose blood we were covered in, but it was hopefully only mine. What did it say that I was only thinking about that now?

"Need to… monitor vital signs… and check modulator switch." Her head rested on my shoulder. "Head feels like it's going to burst I have so many thoughts. Heart hurts thinking about you being hurt. I love you."

Ah, yes, the return of my tear ducts. "I love you too, Mom," I clung to her tightly. Not too tightly, but - holding her close. "Come on. We - could both use the rest." I threw open the sheets and duvet, gently guided Mom onto the bed, and pushed her until she was laying down. "Check everything in the morning."

"You're important." Her hands clung to me. So thin and hard. She'd lost weight after - after Dad. But this was the first time I could really see it, see how small she'd gotten, how tired. Her hands were curved hard claws, like my other body's. But not from strength.

"You're important too." I detangled her fingers from mine just long enough to walk around to the other side of the bed, despite her noises of desperation, and climbed in next to her. "You can't - keep me safe if you're not safe, right? Sleep."

"Mmkay." She rolled over, wrapped her arms around me. "Safe. Gotta… gotta keep you safe…"

Sleep wasn't easy.

-.-.-

"So," I started, as Mom took my blood pressure with one of those cheap first aid kit hand-pump-arm-wrap thingies, "As far as I can tell, no signs of seizures, my voice works better than I ever remember, and my left pinkie shakes when I yawn. I think my uh - control network or whatever you called it is working fine."

"Sensation is reduced, though. You've lost feeling in some of your extremities because I took too long to do this." Mom hissed again, that frustrated not-swearing noise.

"Mom. I can live with that. We can live with that. It's better than something like - I dunno, my face not working." I shrugged. "... now I'm wondering if you'd be able to grow me a new human body. Like a clone."

"No. I'd need to harvest your body for that and - no. I wouldn't be able to repair it if it went wrong. No."

"Okay, okay, just - throwing ideas out there." I held my hands up in surrender. Was extremities my fingertips and toes or my intimate parts? She'd certainly only poked my fingers and hands with her little needle, not anywhere else. But I wasn't going to check elsewhere while Mom was sitting in front of me.

"Everything seems fine, otherwise…" Mom shined a light into my eyes and I tried to wave it away. And now everything was dark. I needed to replace the lightbulb in here or something, working only from desk lamps can't have been doing Mom any good. "Now let's try the switch. Shifting control in three… two…"

I jolted in my tank. Like waking from a nightmare where I'd been falling and just hit the ground. Tentacles writhed around me and my heart wasn't beating any faster but - whoa. Maybe I should blink or at least close my eyes before doing that next time.

My body sort of… slumped like a puppet with cut strings. Still breathing and everything, just… sleeping where it sat.

"Hello? Oh, good, this thing's still on. Hi, Mom!" I waved a big clawed finger - aww, it was still missing one of the nail-talon things -

"Any motion issues? Any pain?"

"Only if I poke the bits that aren't done healing. Like my finger. Or my teeth. Teeth still feel loose, but uh. Nope, can still control everything as well as the first time." Tentacles were still really fun.

"Okay. Okay. Switching back in three… two…"

I closed my eyes this time, but was even more disoriented when my sense of balance told me I was too far forward and already falling - Mom put her hands on my shoulders and kept me upright. "Whoa…" I grumbled, shaking my head. "I'm - definitely going to try sitting down properly before switching again. That sudden sense of balance is… ugh." Flexing my hands - "Everything's running fine, far as I can tell."

"And if I do this…" A glance over at my tank saw a feeding tube extend to my body's mouth. "Can you feel anything?"

I frowned. "Um. Not really? Kind of have an urge to swallow but I can't tell if that's placebo or not. Or is the word I'm thinking of psychosomatic?" I frowned harder, stroking my chin and looking up at the ceiling.

"Okay. So I might be able to improve your other body while you're at school. That's… good." She wrung her hands, slowly.

"I've still got that phone that's connected to the staff repeater so I can call you if something's gone wrong with me. If I feel anything while I'm there that I can't explain, I'll just call." I shrugged. Felt like it'd be simple enough - at first I thought it was weird that they'd give me that, given Panacea went to the same school, but since the seizures were a brain issue and she didn't do brains…

"Good. And text me regularly with updates. If you feel another seizure coming on, report to the nurse's office immediately." She paused. "And do the same if Emma bothers you again."

"I will." I promised, and hopped off the bench to stretch. "Mmnnhh, so… now what? Like - I know you said you don't want to get involved in any costumed frippery -" Yep, she glared at that, "- but… what happens if we get 'approached' by one of the gangs. It's going to happen, at some point, especially if you have to keep buying suspicious amounts of materials."

"I have plans for that."

A long silence.

"Such as…?" I tried prompting her.

"Such as things that aren't your problem. At the moment you need to think about catching up on the week of schoolwork you missed. Especially as you couldn't exactly check your email for the catchup work that was sent."

Damnit, she was right. I sighed. "Alright, I'll go catch up. Don't forget to eat, okay?"

"I won't. You need to eat too. Your body has effectively been starved for a week."

Huh. But I didn't feel that hungry…

"New plan, I am going to make a buttload of lunch."

-.-.-

"Hey." I grinned, sitting down at the table next to Chris. "Ya miss me?"

"Holy shit, Taylor." He almost choked on his sandwich. "You can't just sneak up on a guy like that."

"Sure I can. What, you think I was dead or something?"

"You dropped off the radar for a week and a half, so - I dunno. Maybe?" Chris winced. "I mean… it is Brockton Bay, after all."

"Yeah, totally, so why aren't you on your knees praising the heavens I'm back, then?" I snorted.

"I'm still eating my sandwich?"

"Fair enough." I shrugged, digging into my own. Heh. Bet Winslow's cafeteria didn't even have fresh bread. Suckit, Emma. "So, did I miss anything in my week-and-a-bit-long death-cation?"

"Death-cation?"

"Like a vacation, but people think I'm dead because people are weird and jump to conclusions."

"Well… that was a rumour going around that someone might have tried to poison you on the bus and carry away your body? It doesn't make any sense, in hindsight, but…"

I shook my head and swallowed. "No, that was just - another stress-induced seizure, but way worse than any I've had so far. Been at home recovering, y'know?"

"You definitely sound better than you did."

"Hah. Must have knocked my head in the right way for once. Feel better, too."

His lips twitched. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Thanks. Me too." I grinned and nudged him with my elbow. "So… notice anything different?"

A slow look of horror dawned on him. "Uh - shit. Um. You've uh… done something with your hair?"

I snorted and pulled my hoodie back.

"Oh, wow, yeah, you definitely did something with your hair. Very punk. Or - did the doctors need to shave it to - um. Get to the - " He winced. "Brain and, um. Do stuff to it?"

"I mean, yeah," I sighed, "But they shaved as little as possible and Mom took me to a hairdresser to make it look presentable afterwards. Anyways, I like it."

Mom had to shave the side of my head almost completely. But a short and slightly more straightened style - made me feel kinda badass. The straightening wouldn't hold for long and I didn't know how I'd sort it out once it wore off but now all I needed was some tattoos. Not that Mom would let me get them, probably. She'd thrown a Mom-fit about my haircut sending the wrong message and worrying about me getting into fights.

But what else was I meant to do with one side shaved? Went with my scars at least. I looked like some kind of traumatic-backstoried sci-fi protagonist. Who was secretly a monster living in her mother's basement. But then again, most traumatic-backstoried people ended up capes, if what my online research taught me. Some academic term called 'the trigger-event theory'. Mom had powers, I kinda had an investment in learning about them. Even if research had been difficult from the bathtub then with her fussing over me.

"Mm." Chris tilted his head and stared at me intently, which I raised an eyebrow at. "Yeah. It suits you."

"Thanks. My clothes don't really - go with the look yet. But I've got time to change my wardrobe."

"Are you hinting you'd like me to go shopping with you?"

"Uh -" I blinked. "No, I was just - wait are you insinuating I'd date you for your wallet?"

"No, no, that's Victoria's shtick -" he paused, another dawning look of horror crossing his features. "Don't tell her I said that. Please."

I laughed at him. "Your secret's safe with me." For now.

"What's my shtick?"

"Ahshit-" Chris flinched and ducked his head.

Victoria was floating a few inches off the ground, food in hand, peering at Chris loomingly. But smiling, because of course she was. It was… hard to feel bitter when I knew I was actually a twelve foot long lizard-octopus, but still.

"Nothing! Nothing."

She looked at me.

I shrugged.

She smiled. "Taylor, right? I like the hair. It's neat."

"Um. Thanks?" Why was she liking my hair, she - I thought we weren't meant to like each other.

"No more mocking Dean, Chris. He spends a lot of time tutoring you on math." She reached out, keeping her tray balanced on one hand like a waitress while she ruffled his hair, then skipped off in floating leaps to her normal table and friend-fans.

Chris slumped in his chair. "Argh. Kill me now."

"Sorry, still working on finger strength, can I get a raincheck for strangling you?" I grinned. "Surprised you only got away with a hair-ruffling. Isn't she usually a bit more… protective of her, ahem, purse strings?"

"No! She's - I know you don't like her and after your first day that's fair, but she's super nice. But I do think they had another fight last week, right after -" he paused. "Ah. Right after you vanished. Dean's probably going to do something stupid and romantic to win her back after school, like putting a giant radio in the trunk of his car and serenading her."

"What." My eyes widened. "Has he - you're saying this like he's done it before."

"He tutors me for math. Um. Occasionally he'll talk about, uh. Relationship woes. Not that I can really relate what with the whole no girlfriends ever and him having his whole thing with literally Glory Girl, and also being lusted after by like, a third of the school, but - yeah. According to him they're both… big fans of drama. In every sense."

"Wow."

"Sometimes he runs ideas for winning her back past me. They, um, always sound very over the top. The serenading idea came up once - it's a movie reference? Something about John Cusack and a boombox..."

I couldn't help it - no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stifle my giggling. "Oooh, I really don't want to miss my bus, but I don't really want to miss that either."

"I don't think he's um, planning on trying that at school. I could be wrong, though? There was that time he filled her locker with roses."

"No wonder a third of the girls like him. The rest though, they probably look at a locker full of roses and think, 'well, great, now how am I meant to find my homework?'."

"I think Victoria actually said that. Then, um, they kinda had one of their." He made a wobbly hand gesture. "PDA moments."

Yeah. Bitter me had not appreciated constantly coming across the pair looking like they were on the verge of turning into a porno against the nearest solid surface - neither did most of the school to be honest, and even they seemed kind of embarrassed about it. But - teenagers. It wasn't like they were the only couple. Just the most obvious one because of all the Glory Girl groupies.

I joined him in making a face. "Well. Any good news I've missed?"

"One of those Wards tours. We got the speech last Friday. You know how it goes."

"Damn, I wanted to ask if all that spandex ever gets itchy." I chuckled. "It's good to be back."

"Your mom still a bit intense?"

"A bit." I swallowed. "She was very… scared. By the whole. Collapsing frothing on the bus and needing to go in for surgery thing."

"Yeah. My parents definitely wouldn't react well to that." Chris scratched at the back of his neck. "How's classwork going? I imagine um. You had a lot of work to get done."

"Nah, turns out if your reason for absence is 'seizures and brain surgery' you just get stuff to read up on. That being said," I huffed, "It hasn't done me any favours in the learning department. Might have been good timing, actually, I think I managed to miss an essay assignment for biology." Which was sort of ironic, maybe.

"Yeah... I heard people complaining about that one. Probably sane to miss it."

Heh. Not like I could ask Mom for help - they'd be asking if I was a Tinker. "Well, that's school covered. Anything neat on PHO?"

"Oh! Actually, yeah, I saw this video - Hammerhands vs Merchants - and I thought you might be interested…"

-.-.-
 
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The Grand Pizza Conspiracy: I Swear, I Have Nothing Against Pizza!
we need a "Wait, what?!" part two: Amy and Dean conspiracy
Ugh. Fine. If you insist. =p

Wait, What? Part 2: I Swear, I Have Nothing Against Pizza!
"I'm telling you," Vicky said, "I thought it was harmless at first, too. But now I'm starting to get really worried!"

The two of them stood in an alcove, positioned halfway down the hall that led to Arcadia's cafeteria. It let them stay out of the way of the crush of students, currently lumbering past on their way to lunch. Chaos, to anyone else. To him? When he had first gotten his powers, he had been surprised at just how uniform the emotions of crowds tended to be. Over time, though, he'd realized just how much sense that made. Human beings were social animals. Of course they would take their cues from others, even in their emotions. When people smell smoke, the first thing they do isn't to run outside or to pull the fire alarm. Instead, they look to the other people in the room.

Right now, the vast majority of Arcadia's students were currently feeling a mixture of anticipation and happiness, with a few pockets of anger peppered in here and there. Dean had thought that last bit was weird at first, but he had eventually figured out what was going on there.

Apparently, his power had not deemed it necessary to set aside a separate color for 'hangry.'

Of course, with any group, there would be outliers. A few of the students who had been swept along with the crowd were feeling almost nothing but overwhelming anxiety. One girl's emotional aura was flush with the deep blue of sadness as she wandered along on the periphery of the crowd, trailed by a boy feeling a mixture of sadness, compassion, and uncertainty as he tried to comfort his friend. Another girl's aura was tinged a fiery red as she stormed towards the cafeteria, leaving sudden bursts of yellow fear in her wake.

And there, just in front of the doors—and clearly, doing her very best to obstruct traffic—was the outlier in question: Amy.

Were she anyone other than Panacea, Dean knew that someone would have shouted at Amy a dozen times over. As it was, Amy didn't even seem to notice, her emotions a blur of curiosity, determination, and frustration. Oh, and just a trace amount of disgust, heightened whenever someone happened to brush against her.

As he watched, though, he saw her reach out a hand, lightly touching first one person, then a second, and a third. There was more disgust there, certainly. But also brief bursts of disappointment.

What?

Vicky had said that her sister had been acting weirdly the past few days. That alone had been a cause for concern. His first thought had been that she had tried to act on the worrying blend of emotions he saw from her whenever she was around Vicky. Thankfully, that had not been the case.

But this? He wasn't sure what to make of this.

"I'm not crazy, right?" Vicky asked. "Tell me this is weird."

"Yes, Vicky," Dean agreed. "This is definitely weird."

Understatement of the year, right there. Right now, Dean was very, very glad there was nobody around who could read his own emotions.

Please, please don't be doing something I'm going to be forced to report to Piggot, Amy.

Please?


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

He wasn't able to catch up with Amy until the three of them sat down to lunch. There, at least, everything seemed normal. The normal flash of anger, hatred, jealousy that appeared whenever Amy looked at him. The typical burst of... other things... Amy experienced when she saw Vicky. Concerning, still. But a familiar sort of concerning.

"Ames," Vicky said, clearly pouring every ounce of concern she could muster into her voice. "We need to talk."

Really not the best choice of words, Vicky.

Amy froze. Her entire aura turned yellow with abject terror, flashing bright red with rage as she turned to look at him, then settling into something in between. A roiling mixture of fear, anger, and disgust. Her emotions bubbled and churned until he was certain that if left to sit, they would boil over within seconds.

Craaaaaaap!

"It's about what you were doing in the hallway, earlier!" Dean said, quickly, desperately hoping it would be enough to defuse the bomb before its fuse ran down. "We saw what you were doing."

"Touching people," Vicky clarified unnecessarily, leaning forward so that nobody else could hear them. "Intentionally."

Amy's emotions shifted, instantly. The disgust was gone, replaced by a surge of what looked like relief. The anger and fear stuck around, though, albeit in far lesser quantities than they had been present in before. "I don't know what you're talking about," Amy said. She folded her arms.

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Oh really? Because you haven't exactly been subtle about it."

"I'm not—"

"Amy," Dean said. She glared at him, red surging across her aura as he cut her off. "Seriously, it's obvious you're up to something. And, eventually, someone else is going to notice."

He was almost certain that people already had. But Panacea had earned enough benefit of the doubt that nobody had commented on it. Yet.

For a few seconds, Dean wasn't sure Amy was going to respond. "It's nothing," Amy finally said, scowling. "It's... You'll just think I'm crazy."

Vicky grinned, then reached across the table and prodded Amy in the shoulder with one finger. "Well, yeah. But I already think that, you goof." A conspiratorial look spread across her face. "Let me guess: you're trying to figure out which Arcadia boys have the best... genetics."

"What?" Amy blurted, both her aura and face painting a picture of absolute disgust. "No! Ew, Vicky, no!"

Vicky made a face of mock innocence. She slowly tilted her head to one side, far enough that she looked absolutely ridiculous. "Nooooo?"

Amy glared, back and forth between the two of them. Then she squeezed her her eyes shut, sighing. "Ugh. Fine," she said. "You remember the other day? When you caught me standing outside and said we needed to get in line for pizza?"

"That's been literally every day for the past week."

Amy's aura flickered with uncertainty. "Look. Maybe I'm just crazy. But, um. When I was in the crowd—just for a seconds—I thought I brushed up against a girl who—well—she didn't have a brain."

Vicky looked a little disappointed. "Really, Amy? All this effort to call some poor girl stupid?"

"No," Amy hissed. "I mean she literally did not have a brain. Her skull was emptier than Dennis' after..." For a moment, she seemed to be struggling for an example. Then she glanced behind her.

Dean followed her gaze, over to where his friend sat, halfway across the cafeteria. Dennis was far from stupid, but he could definitely give off that impression sometimes. And right now... Dean winced, watching as Dennis stacked five slices of pizza on top of one another, then attempted to shove the entire stack into his mouth at once.

Between bites, Dennis was saying something along the lines of 'om nom nom.'

"...well, emptier than it usually is," Amy finished.

Vicky still looked skeptical. "Are you sure you didn't imagine this? It's... well, powers are a thing. But a girl walking around with no brain piloting her body? It seems a little far fetched, even for Brockton Bay." She frowned, something occurring to her. "Maybe a Changer power? Or some kind of Master minion?"

Without really thinking, Dean's eyes swept across the room, taking in the emotions of almost a thousand high schoolers, enjoying their lunches to varying degrees. He was just about turn back to Vicky, when one of them caught his eye. There was a girl who Chris had been sitting with for the past few months. A girl with a scarred face, who had transferred in from Winslow.

Normally, he might not even have noticed. Except that, where every other student at Arcadia—Vicky, aside—carried a halo of colors with them, this girl had nothing. Nothing, at all. At the time, he had assumed that there was an emotion-based power at play, along the same lines as his or Vicky's. An event nasty enough to give her those kinds of scars would almost certainly have been bad enough to qualify as a trigger event. He had kept an eye on Chris for a few weeks, ensuring there was nothing out of the ordinary. When nothing happened, he had disregarded her. He didn't want to pry and approaching the girl in her civilian identity would be one of the fastest ways to push her away from the heroes.

But now, giving her a second look...

No brain would mean no emotions, wouldn't it?

Shit.

He actually might have to report this to Piggot, after all. Unless...

The scarred girl didn't seem dangerous. And they could always go to the PRT if they got too out of their depths. But he had watched Piggot's emotions once, while discussing a suspected biotinker based out of Philadelphia. Fear and hatred. In extreme quantities. He had no idea if the girl fell under that umbrella but, regulations or not, he was reluctant to report anything that could even conceivably be interpreted as such. Not until he knew more, at least.

Dean's eyes fell on Amy, then Vicky, in turn as he made up his mind.

"You know," Dean said. "I might actually have an idea of where to start..."
 
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Incubation 1.5
EXTRA LONG CHAPTER TODAY! :D
Special thank you to my coauthor and lovely wife @hellgodsrus and the many betas helping feed me validation. Feedback and thoughts are loved! Extra special thank you to @LacksCreativity , @32nd_freeze , and @Tamahori for their help in deciding some significant plot points!

Incubation
1.5
-.-.-

The one thing I liked about World Affairs was that the topic of the month was always cape-related. If only because capes were the only people making noticeable waves these days. That wasn't entirely fair, there were all sorts of giants of industry and politics stuff, but it still almost always tied back to capes somehow.

Oh yes, said small country was voting for a new leader because the last one was - wait for it - assassinated by a parahuman! Actually, I think that was how the african warlord states started. I hadn't been paying much attention to those classes. It was one of the first topics, back when I was still paranoid about having a seizure in front of everyone and making a fool out of myself. Curling into the back corner of the classroom and avoiding any potential scrutiny.

Mr. Jensen had been nice - one of the few teachers that actually noticed I didn't want attention and went out of his way to make sure I didn't get it. Treated me as close to a person as anyone did. No, bitter thoughts. I was past that. He had a couple of nasty scars too, so - maybe he got it.

And he didn't do cringe-worthy things like ask us to call him Adam or "Mr. J", like a certain teacher a suckup ex-bestie of mine had complained about when I definitely wasn't listening.

Anyway. Today's topic was… dun dun duuun, the Simurgh's attack on Canberra! Wait. When the fuck had she - oh. Probably while I was living under a rock in the bathtub. Well. That was awkward. I had the ability to sleep through Endbringer sirens?

It was actually something about the Cold War and how it had ended, but all anyone was talking about was the attack on Canberra, so Mr. Jensen had sighed and given in, turning the class into a roundtable discussion of the Endbringers.

"Everyone, before you start the usual discussion of fights, I'd rather you actually focus on the aftermath of them. The fights themselves only last hours, if that, but this is World Affairs, not a versus board on PHO. Talk about the effects Endbringer attacks have on the local economy, ecology, and our culture in general. At the end I'll assign a project for the class. This will be group work, groups of three - yes, I'll let you work with your friends. I'll give each group a location and an Endbringer, and you can all tell me how that will affect the area. Due in by next class."

Ah. Damnit, group work. Well, it was fine, but Mom wouldn't let me go over to others' places or let me invite them over to work. So… convincing people to do work at school during breaks it probably was. Fun. And there was the general issue of not really having friends -

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Uh, sure." I looked up, it was - shit, what was her name? She had sort of… golden skin, not in the tanned way that some very made up actors or capes did but naturally, and really long hair done up in a bun. Anne? Was it Anne? Was I forgetting that? Argh. This is why I avoided people. "Uh - this is gonna sound so rude - Anne, right?"

"Abby, actually." She smirked a little, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. "Mind if Al sits with us?"

I shrugged. "I didn't really have any plans for a group so… I guess so?" Why couldn't Chris be in this class, we'd probably work well together. Probably. Or spend our time verbally shitposting at each other.

"Sweet." Her eyes were lingering on me - was she - looking at my scars? But she didn't look disgusted - "I like the new haircut. It suits you."

Huh. That made three for three. "Thanks. Guess long hair just - wasn't for me, huh?" I chuckled, a little self-depreciative, a little nervous. Why were people paying attention to me all of a sudden? I should have worn a beanie.

Someone else slumped into the other chair at the table - glasses, reddish short hair, a face that was somehow both pointed and round. "Hey. Hey, Abby."

"Al." Abby smiled.

"Oh hey, uh… Taylor, right?" Al extended a freckled hand. "Al. They-them."

Oh. Kinda fit, they looked pretty androgynous. "Yeah." I shook. "Sorry, I must have looked like I was trying to figure it out."

Now the question was - was I the odd one out? These two clearly knew each other, but - Al was different, like me with my scars.

"Nah, s'cool, just giving pronouns is sensible, you know? I'm guessing you're she-her but if not…"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm - pretty happy with my body-gender alignment. You're assuming correctly." I'm not sure 'godzilla' was a gender, anyways.

Abby smirked. "Another joins my evil cis cult. Mwahaha." Cis? What?

Al elbowed her. "Idiot. So, uh. Endbringers, huh? Pretty fucking heavy."

"I'm sure we could find something heavier if we looked closer to home." I grimaced. "I mean - no offense, but isn't the whole 'cis slash not-cis' thing a bit of a risk in a city that's at least one-third infested with Nazis?" Wait - shit, that wasn't an invitation to make things heavier - people are hard.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and the Simurgh will come down to make them all glitter, rainbows, and gays." Abby pulled out a notepad and pen. "Honestly though, we can't let Nazis - literal actual factual Nazis - stop people from being who they are."

"Yeah, seriously. The Protectorate does not do enough about them."

I mean… I agreed. But I wasn't sure how they could do more. Maybe if Mom let me out of the basement - nah. Wasn't going to happen. I could barely fight off her; how was I meant to manage against a living blender like Hookwolf?

And Abby was still looking at me and I couldn't tell what that look meant. I settled for an awkward nod. A swallow that I felt pull at where my scars stretched onto my throat.

"Right. So… Endbringers. Uuuhhh… well, we've seen what Leviathan's done in general to shipping and stuff. But I can't remember if he actually targeted ships or just - seaside cities like Brockton and people didn't want to risk it." I fiddled with my hands. There weren't as many scars on them - more on my arms.

"I mean, in between attacks aren't the Endbringers asleep? He'd have to be attacking the ships during those attacks and I don't think that'd hurt the shipping trade that much. I think though he made people more afraid of the sea? Da always talks about beach holidays and I can't think of a single person who'd want to go on one now." Abby scribbled something down on her notepad. "It's interesting that there's still a lot of cargo planes though. The Simurgh hasn't made us afraid of flying."

"Yeah. Fun stat, but Leviathan's actually taken out more aircraft than she has. During attacks, I mean."

"That's because any city big enough to get his attention usually has an airport." I raised an eyebrow. "I'd wager there's more aircraft in the hangars than the sky during attacks."

"Still." Al shrugged. "Fun stat."

"Mm. And anyways, I think the Simurgh's made us afraid of going to space. Wasn't there that guy who tried to make a moon-base and the Simurgh fucked it all up?" I had a vague memory about the guy becoming a ziz-bomb, but it'd been a while. I could be remembering wrong. Wait. Waaait a second, it was coming back to me now - Mannequin! The guy in the Slaughterhouse Nine. Right. Heavy thoughts are definitely the theme today.

"Sphere! Right. In general given her tendency to do things like that, people have been afraid of making too much progress because what if Endbringer, which honestly is reductive and probably leads to the results they'd want anyway." Abby waved her pen dramatically. "Like with the Nazis. We can't live our life in fear." And then she gave me that look again the one I didn't know -

I wasn't going to live in fear. Well… not once Mom upgraded me. Maybe. Social fear didn't count, right? "Right." I nodded. "Can't live in fear. Might as well live it up while we can, yeah?"

"Yes." Abby had this - hooded-eye smile that I still wasn't understanding and it made me wriggle a bit. Was this a trick like the kind of ones Emma had pulled when in public? I just - I couldn't know.

"Abby. Be nice."

"But I am being nice. Very nice."

"I have no idea what's going on." I grumbled. "Can we go back to talking about the Endbringers?"

Abby's lips twitched. "Of course. So then…"

-.-.-

>Hey mom, bus is going to be late catching first one i can but a tinker broke into the garage overnight so a couple got dismantled

<stay safe, stay with others, don't draw attention to yourself
<sit middle of the bus no window seats
<keep firm grip on railings/seat in front of you and be prepared to brace

>mom you're being paranoid again, it'll be fine

<if it'll be fine, it'll be fine because you do those things

>there hasn't been a car accident or gang accident involving school buses for months
>the gangs sorta learned their lesson after the protectorate went apeshit on them for the last fight that a bus got caught in

Yup, she was still being… Mom. How as I meant to avoid drawing attention to myself and act like I was preparing for the bus to crash. If it did crash, I'd be interrogated about knowing beforehand.

>I'll just act natural and stick to not drawing attention to myself. Cos if it does crash, people are going to be wondering why i was prepared

<we will Talk about this

Fuck. Capital T talk. I sighed and slipped the phone into my pocket and started looking around for somewhere to wait for the bus. Or someone I knew. But I didn't actually know that many people…

I balanced myself as I strolled down the edge of the raised garden-thing by the front. Oooh, there was Chris. And Dean. They were talking about something, their backs to the garden edge I was walking along.

I couldn't help myself. I prowled a little as I snuck closer, listening in because I was a terrible person.

"... seem more relaxed. I don't think I've seen you look this happy this whole week." Dean bumped Chris gently. "Anything I should know about?"

"No. Just had a - a not-bad day. Are things going okay with, uh. The whole plan thing for you and Victoria?"

"You're deflecting, Chris." Dean was smiling as he said it, so - I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Was he being mean to my friend? Yeah. Chris was definitely someone I'd consider a friend. "Does this have anything to do with that girl you always sit next to at lunch - Taylor, right?" Wait, he was talking about me now?

"No!" Chris scuffed his shoe. "... a little bit."

"I know you were worried about her. Does… she know that you were worried?"

"No! No, I couldn't - and she is just a friend, really. Barely even that, she's just someone who tolerates me doing my - babble thing."

Well, now would be the perfect time to drop in and let him know otherwise. But I sorta felt guilty about listening in now. Fffff -

I sighed. "Y'know, Chris -"

"Gah!"

"I really do consider you a friend." I ruffled his hair as I sat down next to where he was leaning on the wall.

Dean grinned. "Hey, Taylor. It is Taylor, right? I'm terrible with names."

"That's me." I grinned.

"I don't think we've properly met before. I'm Dean." He reached out to shake my hand. Firmish grip. He was… handsome, I guessed, in a young-and-pretty guy fashion. Not really something I was interested in.

"So I heard you tutor Chris in math, and occasionally torture him with drama."

"Is that what he told you?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned at Chris, who was hiding his face in his hands with his shoulders shaking. I think he was laughing.

"Oh, yeah, you're planning to go all John Cussack on her, aren't you?"

His smile faded a little, but he shook his head. "Maybe. We'll see."

Aaaand once more we come across a prime example of why I don't do people. Fuck me and my inability to read the room. "Well, uh. Hope it goes well, whatever happens." A sort of awkward silence. "Chris, save me," I stage whispered at him.

He flashed a spasmodic smile. "So, uh, how about them buses?"

We both looked at him for a moment before we burst out laughing. He joined in, thank fuck. It was just so - 'aristocrats!' of him. "I heard a Tinker broke into the garage overnight. But that was mixed with rumours of Nazis breaking in to take them on drunken joyrides and other much less plausible shit. But the only Tinkers we have in the Bay are on the Protectorate side, right?"

"There's also Leet, but… maybe someone new looking for parts." Dean shrugged. "Don't know why they went for the Arcadia buses for that though. It's not like they're in the world's best shape, and I'd have thought there'd be pretty good security around them."

"Yeah, I'd go for a public bus terminal." Chris coughed. "If I were a Tinker, that is."

Suspiciously specific denial aside - "Why even do that when there's a junkyard? I can't remember where it is but - we've also got the trainyards, right? Pretty much abandoned, full of old trains nobody'll miss. Or, hell, even the boat graveyard - though I guess that'd be more for material than parts."

Dean shrugged. "There'd probably be parts there too. Maybe whoever it was just really doesn't like Arcadia."

"Maybe the bus driver forgot to pick them up one time?"

I snorted, putting on a fake villainous voice, "How dare they forget me! I'll show them! They'll never forget me ever again!" Heh. "... do you think that means we might be going to school with a Tinker that isn't in the Wards?"

"Speculating on identities is usually a fast-track to get on someone's list." Dean's face was serious. "I'm pretty sure it's actually against school policy as well."

"I know, it's just - well, the Wards already go here, it'd be kinda hilarious if Arcadia was like - cape-kid central. Or is underage cape central more accurate?"

"I think it'd be cape-kid if your parents were capes. Like New Wave." Chris looked kinda anxious. "Like how if you're married to a cape, you can get the 'cape-spouse' tag on PHO."

"Kid cape, maybe?" Dean raised his eyebrow.

"Young-adult cape's a bit of a mouthful, even if it is more accurate." I hummed. Like 'humanoid with extra bits'.

I looked back towards the steps idly, just in time to lock eyes with Abby as she strode down looking like she owned the place. She gave me another weird wriggle-inducing smile and a pretty little wave, which I returned in my hamfisted way.

"Another friend?" Chris noticed.

"Uh. I - I don't know?" I shrugged and let out the wriggle now that Abby wasn't looking. "She keeps - giving me weird smiles and I don't know what to think about it."

Dean blinked. "Huh."

"Huh what?" My head shot around so I could glare at -

"I think she's hitting on you."

"... what." I - what? My mind came to a screeching halt. "What? I - why would she - huh???"

"Oh my god." Chris was looking up at me with this - look of awe that I really wasn't sure what to make of. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"She's the president of the LGBT-plus club. She's, um. Pretty openly gay."

"Victoria helped her set up for a meeting one time, and I helped Victoria. She's pretty cool." Dean shrugged. "Victoria thought about joining, but given everything she figured she wouldn't have the time. And… between you and me, she has a tendency to absolutely take over groups, and that maybe wasn't the best idea."

My mind was still doing that 'everything is on fire panic aaaahh!' spongebob thing. "But - I'm hideous?" Why… why would she find me hot? I - okay, admittedly after a week of starvation, my 'too fat in some places' problem had been resolved in the unhealthiest way possible, but still.

"What?! Taylor, you're not hideous, you're really pretty!" Chris stopped, and began to turn scarlet. "I - I mean, you're - "

"I think what Chris meant was internalised views on how one looks has nothing to do with how people see you." Dean looked around. "I… really should be getting going soon."

"A-are you sure because it sounded like he was calling me pretty." My face was heating up so much.

"Well, that's just fact." He gave a little salute. "See you both around."

"Wait, Dean, you can't just leave - " Chris flailed. "Anddd he's already gone."

I'm not sure I could look at him and he couldn't look at me, so we were both just - god we're such dorks - standing and sitting around, red-faced and awkward. "W-wwell. Um. I'm - glad people think I look nice? Even - even if I can't really understand it… um…" Hood! I had a hoodie! I could hide in it! Come on where's my bus hurry the fuck up and save me please.

Chris coughed. Several times. "Um. Yeah. I. I um. I was - was wondering. Would you um." He shrunk. "Um. Forget it."

Was he going to ask me out? Or was that just my overexcited imagination getting away on me again? Don't hope too hard. "Haaa, uumm. Yep. Okay." I nodded. Just - saying things. "I uh. I think that's my bus coming in just now, uhm. See you tomorrow?"

"Yup. U-usual spot?"

"Of course." Um. Shit. Uhhhh. AAAAHH! "See ya." I awkwardly waved and stumbled a few steps away before fixing my gait. Yup. I had no idea if this was my bus or not, I was climbing on and going aaaall the way to the back where I could hide forever and never return to this mortal plane as Taylor Hebert, only Monster Girl. Hahha.

My phone buzzed. Fuck.

<taylor are you okay you seem uncomfortable

>I'm fine, just had a really embarrassing conversation with friends

<you just started twitching, just wanted tocheck it wasn't something i'd done
<wait what conversation

>uhhhhh i am in no way ready to discuss this with my mother
>could we um. Shelve it for until i get home

<no you can't go on a date

>MOM
>no i
>i dont want to go on a date!
>but apparently people want to go on a date with me???????????
>aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

How the hell was I was meant to - gah! Mom why are you like this. Dean was - smooth, in hindsight. Chris was nice, and adorably awkward, but - gah two, electric boogaloo! He was a good friend, but -

I remembered that smile Abby gave me and had to wriggle again. What was I meant to make of that?

<what are their names

>mom put down the knife

<i just want their names for background checks

>believe it or not that's exactly why I'm not giving them
>mom, i get that you're… paranoid, for lack of a softer term, but
>I am *not* interested in dating right now
>nor am i at all interested having my potential lovelife micromanaged
>plus if my potential boyfriend/girlfriend/whateverfriend breaks my heart, i can bury them myself

<ok
<I still want to do background checks

>and you're not worried that might bring the wrong kind of attention?
>like, the only people i can think of that do background checks are police or hitmen
>or i guess journalists but
>If anything actually gets far enough *then* i *might* give you names
>for now its just people tellig me i look good and me having no idea how to handle the fact that other people consider me pretty
>like, whyyyyyyyy?? I have hrorible scars and stuff

<Taylor of course you're pretty
<but you should be paying attention to your surroundings instead of texting

>mom you're biased though

I sighed and looked up. Oh. Ohhh, fuck.

>... do you think you could pick me up at the library?

<taylor what did you do

>i got on the bus because of awkwardness and it was the wrong one
>at least im going to end up at the library so i can look and see if they have the new book in that series ive been reading

<STAY IN PUBLIC VIEW IN THE LIBRARY NEAR A LIBRARIAN AT ALL TIMES OMW

Damnit. Well, she couldn't text and drive, so I had time to think about…

… about the way Abby's smile made me feel things that Chris and Dean's compliments didn't. Uuuuhhh. Okay, if I - thought of the extremes, like - super soft girls, hard muscled guys, firm bouncy breasts to rub my face in -

My face flushed as I realised I was thinking of Victoria. Of Miss Militia being harder and more toned, and Battery's suit was so skintight, wasn't it - and being held in Alexandria's strong arms, her lifting off her helmet -

Fuuuuuuuck. And - they -

I pressed my thighs together and dropped my head, biting my lip hard. Fuck. A week of starvation came with - well, a week of inattention to certain needs and boy they were making themselves felt now.

Alexandria was - so out of reach though. But Abby - wanted me. And I could only imagine us replacing Dean and Victoria, pressing her up against the wall and biting her neck - mmmph. Fuck. Fuuuck. I had it bad.

And I was… gay, I guess. Lesbian? I wanted to - curl up wrapped round a female someone and have them wrapped around me. Yup.

This is why I hadn't thought about this kind of thing before.

And it - it wasn't like Abby probably liked me anyway. It was probably - her being cruel and Dean being kind, or vice versa, or - something like that. And Chris was just being nice. No-one could like this face, after all.

But… I had another face. No, who am I trying to kid, if they didn't like this face they wouldn't like mine. Even if the tentacles could be put to good use on… girls. Gaaaah. No, that wasn't a helpful image. Especially as my tentacles were spiky, that would never work. And - only weird people would be attracted to that me like that. Yeah, no chance of that happening.

Eventually the bus stopped outside the library. I didn't bother with the whole public view thing, or librarian, I just grabbed a few books I was interested in, a few more that looked interesting, and checked out. Just waited on one of the benches playing some stupid game on my phone trying to distract myself while waiting for Mom.

Sigh. I understood her paranoia, but - it was still a bit overbearing. A lot overbearing.

The car ride home was horrible. I hesitated to actually get in, my heart racing, just - it never got any easier. Buses were okay. Buses were different in feel and sound and size and there weren't seatbelts. I knew they were there for my safety. But that didn't stop the feeling of my chest being constricted. Didn't stop me from - feeling like if I looked to the driver's side I'd see Dad again. Smiling at me. Reaching over as the light grew brighter and -

Mom understood. Even if she was quiet. She grabbed my hand, tightly, and didn't let go.

Not until I told her she needed both hands on the wheel to drive safely. I could - deal with the freaking out part when we got home.

-.-.-
 
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