"Augh, Merlin, the Professor has to be around here somewhere." Doc pulled one of Lockhart's larger portraits away from the wall to glance behind it.

"Have you noticed," Vania asked, "that you have a tendency to imitate the local speech style whenever we go somewhere?"

"I don't know what you're bloody talking about."

"Right." Vania rolled her eyes and continued checking the drawers of Lockhart's desk. "Why does this guys need so many copies of his own books?"

Doc dramatically threw open the door panels of a large cupboard in the back of the room. "Hey, I think I found the plothole! I can hear something . . ." He peered closer into the darkness.

Then a tumbling cloud rose into the air around his head, buzzing furiously.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah! It was beeeeees!" Doc started a frantic run around the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, flailing his arms in the air while the insect swarm pursued. "I thought it was a plothooooooole but it was only beeeeeeeees!" Doc ended by flinging himself out of the huge window that dominated one wall of the classroom. the bees returned to the cabinet while Doc's fading voice called, "Aaaaaaah! Castles are actually kind of sharp in placeeeeees. I feel like I should have known this alreadyyyyyyy . . ."

Vania gently closed the drawer she had just opened and started heading for the cupboard, a thoughtful look on her face. "You know, I can't for the life of me . . ." She frowned. "I just can't recall what my worst fear is."

She peered into the shadows of the cupboard.

". . . Huh. So that's what a boggart looks like."

Actually, Yocherry was doing a whole lot of things. Lying on the ground. Bleeding out. Steadily approaching death. Having a giant, smoking hole in his chest.
The gurgling was, however, in his opinion, the most important one of them all.
He was doing that, too, actually. Having opinions. And they were cloudy and weightless and as ethereal as ghosts, and they were drifting around his head like skybound porridge.

'Dude, ummmm, dude dude dude,' Maz was pacing around somewhere or other. Yocherry didn't really know. They could have been in space, right then. It felt a little like it.

'Oooh, duuuude, dude.'
She seemed terribly worried about something.
Yocherry twisted his head. It flopped, smacking an ear against the dirt. The vibrations warbled in his skull. Yocherry felt very strange.
He had something to tell her, he realised.

Yocherry gurgled at her.

'No, dude, don't, um, talk, dude! Just wait - I - it's, um, muscles, tearing. Um. Don't worry, uh, dude, it's alright!' She said, quivering like a leaf in an earthquake.

Yocherry gurgled at her. He thought that he smiled, but it came out as more of a crooked grimace.

'Dude, um, dude, please!'

Yocherry raised a smarmy eyebrow, and gurgled again.

'Dude, are you, umm, being sassy?'

Yocherry gurgled with even greater sass.
He was very interested in hearing her reply, but something inside of him gave up. Then the sun and the sky and the land and Maz all disappeared, and Yocherry was certain he actually was in space.




Maz was looking at the floor.
It had been a week since Yocherry had gotten thirty per cent of himself blown out onto the grass by an angry Stu with a very powerful gun, and he was as conscious as a brick, hooked up, plugged into, and being injected by some of the best medical equipment in the multiverse.
Yocherry hadn’t done much, except for wake up a few hours earlier, mumble about snails and batteries, and immediately drop back into sleep.
Maz had tensed up like a metal spring, listened sharply to the whole thing, and had remained tensed, prepared for any additions to his arguments and points, for the next hour. Nothing came up, needless to say.

‘Maaaaaaaz.’

Maz tensed up like a metal spring.

‘Heeeeeeeey, booooss,’ Yocherry murmured, eyes glassily staring in her direction.

‘Dude, um, are you, uh - you, um, I don’t think you should talk, um, dude,’ Maz babbled, dividing her attention between Yocherry’s sleepy, drooping face, and the plastic wires filled with odd liquids that were keeping it from giving up, rotting, and dropping off.

‘Got interuuuuupted…’ Yocherry said.

‘Um.’

‘You waaaaant…’

‘Um.’

‘To heeeear, booooooss?’
With that, he wobbled around slightly, attempting to gesture to her.
Maz stepped forward. She leant in. She was dead silent.
Yocherry was silent, too, for a few moments, remembering what he was about to say. He inhaled.

‘That ent nothin.’ His voice was low and secretive. He grinned sloppily. Maz stared at him.
‘I’ve had worse.’
His job finally done, Yocherry dropped back into unconsciousness.
Maz continued staring at him.

An evil spirit/alien takes possession of one agent, and the other has to find a way to free them.

So, this ended up being not only rather more suggestive than I feel comfortable just posting to the Board, but also rather long (more than two pages in a word document). If you want to read it, the link is here - it's safe for work, but contains discussion of sex.

Matthew nearly tore the RC's door off its hinges in his eagerness. "Ajax! Holy shpx!"

The beet red, stunned face of Levy and the rather ticked, though still red face of Ajax, who was unbuttoning Levy's shirt, was all Matthew saw before he slammed the door shut. "Just... check the Reddit when you're done," he yelled back into the RC.

He then punched out a text to Toby, over at DoSAT: Bruuuuuuuuh. You owe me 20 bucks.

((A/N: Revised version of what I posted in the chat. This is totally uncanonical, as I don't have Permission, and also because I haven't yet decided whether or not Meg exists.))

"You know, I've always admired you," T'Kat said. She glanced across the table at the other woman. Vulcan ideals were well and good, but this was definitely an occasion when she needed to figure out how emotional cues worked. She observed Meg look downward and start cleaning under her nails with her knife. However, she was nearly certain her mouth had twisted into a smile.

"Really? Why?" Meg asked offhandedly.

T'Kat shifted around to face her, almost knocking her cane from where it was propped against the table. She was surprised and pleased to see the wrinkles on Meg's forehead deepen with worry in the moments before she caught it.

"Well, you're a very creative exorcist, for starters."

Meg's laugh could almost be called girlish. It startled T'Kat to remember that the time-hardened woman she'd befriended was only thirty-six years old, less than a quarter her own age. Humans grew up so fast, especially in pre-modern continua.

"I have been impressed by how confident you are," T'Kat said, "Especially after having lived in such a repressive universe. I've heard Macbeth called Shakespeare's most misogynistic play."

"Oh, it wasn't so bad for me," Meg said, "According to the play, Lady Mackers had a hard time of it, but my husband was a good man."

"I'm sure that is true, but I would prefer you not speak of your husband unless it's strictly necessary." Meg looked up for a moment, and suddenly they were looking into each other's eyes. T'Kat looked away.

"My emotions are not the same as a Human's," T'Kat continued, "and I don't think that what I am feeling now is analogous to jealousy, but you are free to think of it as such."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Meg's cheeks growing pinker. Was that a good sign? It had been so long since she'd tried to seduce anyone but Anthek. And even that was years ago now.

"I suppose you're right," Meg said, "I have been making up for lost time." T'Kat furrowed her brow. Did that follow logically from what they had been talking about before? Perhaps this was one of those conversations that didn't need to make sense in the strictest way. She could use that to her advantage.

"Would you like to come over to my Response Center, feed each other chocolate, make out, and whatever would plausibly follow that?" Meg's eyes went wide at that, but she smiled.

T'Kat was about to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively when her partner galloped over, a bowl full of soggy enchiladas and what looked like an empty bottle of ranch dressing balanced precariously on eir abdomen.

"T'Kat! T'Kat!" Kebrdå stopped to catch eir breath for a moment. "T'Kat, what does a spoon look like? The cafeteria worker said I needed one."

T'Kat sighed. Not dramatically...but on the spectrum leading to that adverb. Meg burst out laughing.

T'Kat picked up her own spoon from her empty soup bowl and held it out in front of the still-woefully-undereducated Venusian. A piece of noodle flicked off and onto eir feeler. Ey pressed eir lips together in consternation.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Meg laughed even harder at that. Kebrdå's mouth opened slightly as he recognized her voice.

"Oh! That's the Human you are in a relationship with? Want to do a relationship with? I'm getting that wrong." Ey froze for a moment, eir feelers twitching from side to side, then turned and ran.

Dromeia
Beedrill @ Beedrillite
Ability: Swarm --> Adaptability
Jolly Nature (+Speed, -SpecialAttack)
EVs: 252 Attack / 4 Special Defence / 252 Speed
- Poison Jab
- U-Turn
- Protect
- Drill Run


Mooshroo
Amoonguss @ Black Sludge
Ability: Regenerator (well, how could one not?)
Bold Nature (+Defence, -Attack)
EVs: 240 HP / 252 Defence / 16 Special Defence
- Spore
- Sturn Spore
- Giga Drain
- Foul Play


Timewyrm
Dragalge @ Choice Specs
Modest Nature (+Special Attack, -Attack)
Ability: Adaptability
EVs: 248 HP / 252 Special Attack / 8 Special Defence
- Draco Meteor
- Sludge Wave
- Thunderbolt
- Focus Blast


Yssgaroth
Golbat @ Eviolite
Careful Nature (+Special Defence, -Special Attack)
Ability: Infiltrator
EVs: 236 HP / 44 Defence / 228 Speed
- Brave Bird
- Haze
- Defog
- Roost


Couldhavebeen
Nidoking @ Life Orb
Timid Nature (+Speed, -Attack)
Ability: Sheer Force
EVs: 252 Special Attack / 4 Special Defence / 252 Speed
- Stealth Rock
- Earth Power
- Fire Blast
- Sludge Wave


Adric
Drapion @ Choice Band
Adamant Nature (+Attack, -Special Attack)
Ability: Sniper
EVs: 248 HP / 252 Attack / 8 Special Defence
- Knock Off
- Cross Poison
- Rock Slide
- Earthquake

Ajax throws a ragtag Fairy team together, gets third, is dubbed Oberon The Fairy King

"I think I'd go for a fighting team," Matthew said, absent mindedly popping a Pokéball to from it's small to large forms and back again. "Most of my favorite Pokémon are in that typing."

Levy pondered for a moment. "I would say... Water," she said. "Sure they might not get my attack bonuses, but I tend to work well with watery things."

"Dragon, full stop," Nickul said, not even looking up from his book. "I mean, I am mostly dragon myself."

"Let's see, who's awesome... Mega Lucario, that'll be cool! And maybe a Primeape, or a Scrafty, or... hey, Mike, what are some cool Fighting-types?" Apecian asked his partner.

"I am not sure at the moment," Michael said, not looking up from the screen. "However, assuming they exist, I would recommend a Fighting and Rock-type or a Fighting and Electric-type to take on Flying-types, and a Fighting and Dark-type or a Fighting and Ghost-type to take on Psychic types," he said. "Now, please, Apecian, I hate to be rude, but please, may I have a moment? I have to run analysis on my team to see what happens if I replace Claydol with Gallade." Apecian sighed, and rolled over on the couch.

"You're no fun," he said quietly. Michael did not hear him.

"Steadfast, I believe, will be better than Justified. Hmm, I think Swords Dance will be very effective. Psycho Cut, of course, what kind of Psychic-type player would I be if I didn't have that?" Michael continued in this vein for some time, and Apecian kept sulking until Michael was finished, at which point he quickly began begging Michael to help him.

Apecian ran down the hall, gasping. True, he could clear up the tiredness with a bit of charge from his stone, but that'd be a waste, even when escaping from them. A line of red tape flew past him, narrowly missing entangling his legs. "Bunnies," he muttered between gasps.

“Get back here!” a voice cried. That voice belonged to the Notary, possibly the most annoying person in all of Headquarters, Flowers included.

“Nope!” Apecian yelled back, still running. Up ahead, he could see a split. Great! If he could just go through a few more of those, he could lose her! He should have known not to think that. The IO was always listening.

“We’ve got you!” The Notary cried, dashing out from the left corridor. She faced him, staser in her right hand and a ridiculously tall stack of paperwork hugged to her side by her left. Apecian turned, hoping he was wrong, but, of course, he wasn’t. The Notary was in front of him this way, too.

“Great,” he muttered. One of the Notaries has split off from the other one, and they’d somehow managed to trap him in this hallway. The Notary who had been in front of him, but was now behind him, walked up to him and pulled several papers off the top of the pile.
“These are the forms you’ll need to complete to get the item you requested,” she told him. She pulled even more papers from the pile. “And here are two extra copies. Please fill them all out.” Apecian looked around, trying to figure a way out, but it was no use. They had him boxed in, and without his hammer, he couldn’t even try and tackle one out of the way, because the other would shoot his feet off, and then they’d make him help put all the papers the one he’d tackled had dropped in order. He shuddered at the thought. No, better just to accept it. He sighed, and accepted the papers from the Notary.

“Do either of you have a pen?” he asked. The Notaries looked at each other. Should they…? No, that would be excessive, even for them. One reached into a pocket and pulled out a number two pencil, a pencil sharpener, and an eraser.

“Use these,” she told the Homunculus. “If you make a mistake, erase it thoroughly so that no confusion will result.” He groaned, and took it, and the forms.

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered.

“Would you like some help?” a familiar voice called from the end of the hallway. Apecian looked up, and grinned.
“Michael!” he cried, getting to his feet. Indeed, it was his partner, wearing his yellow Tracker’s Lenses, which explained how he’d managed to find his partner without getting lost. “Thank goodness. Could you fill these out for me? The Notary’s trying to get me to do it three times!” Michael smiled, and shook his head.

“I’m not going to do it all for you,” he said, walking to his partner. “But…” He paused as he bent down, then rifled through the papers, pulled out a number of them, and stood up again. “If you’ll do one set, I’ll do the other two.”

Apecian grimaced, but said, “Sure.” He snatched the writing materials from the Notary in front of him, and Michael graciously accepted a set from the other Notary. The two agents then sat down to work on them as the Notaries looked on triumphantly.

Kelly and September walked down the hallway.

September said, "It really wouldn't have been a violation of canon if she actually was an ancient sea goddess."

Kelly scowled. "We're just lucky that the story cut off before that."

September stopped as her foot encountered something small and warm. She looked down to see a puppy. "Oh how cute!"

"Don't even think about keeping him," Kelly said. "No minis and no pets. They'll tear up the RC."

September picked up the puppy, who seemed unphazed by the light kick. "We can't just leave him here."

"Then take him to the Cute Animal Friend Adoption Agency." Kelly began walking again.

He watched the little Absol run from the Pokémon Centre into the woods. Trainers often did that; Pokémon that didn’t make the cut when they were bred for specific natures or IVs were simply released into the wild— even if they were barely out of the egg. The little one darting to and fro, alone and confused, was obviously one of the undesirables. From his vantage point in the underbrush he watched her blindly flee deeper into the forest and disappear from his sight.

For a moment, he debated whether going after her— was it worth it in the end? The world was a cruel, harsh place. Things like this were commonplace. Not everyone had a place to go at the end of the day: case in point, the female Absol. Case in point, him. A sudden wave of curiosity overtook him: where did those without a place go to? He knew what his answer would be, but his circumstances were hardly normal. With that reasoning in mind, he silently left his hiding place and followed the young Absol’s trail, taking care to remain unseen and unheard.

---

She stopped her frantic race at the base of a tall tree and had tucked herself into a shallow hole by the roots. She sobbed quietly as she fearfully looked around at the sights and noises of the outside world. It was overwhelming: she had barely hatched when she was given a name— ‘Luna’— and her trainer had started studying her profile on their strange tablet-thing. The trainer looked at her, then at her profile, then back at her before going to the Pokémon Centre and releasing her into the wild.

Luna didn’t understand. What had she done wrong? Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? She felt the tears well up in her eyes and buried her face in her forepaws again. She wept for several silent minutes before she noticed another presence near her. A Zoroark had sat down next to her and was busy braiding several long pieces of grass together, weaving a few wildflowers into the design as he worked with his claws. Luna studied the newcomer closely. He wore a strange contraption on his snout: two circular pieces of transparent material framed by gold. He was clad in a large cloak that seemed to blend into the landscape and wore a vest that held several things in bulging pouches. He turned to look at her— Luna recoiled in fright but the stranger’s smile made her stop. He glanced back at his work and tied the two ends together, forming a little crown with the braided grass. With utmost delicacy, he placed the crown on Luna’s head and admired his handiwork.

The Absol looked up at him in wonder. “Are you my father?” she asked.

The Zoroark grimaced and briefly looked away before slowly shaking his head. He tucked his arms under his cloak and seemed to be debating something. Luna rose and took a step towards him. “Can I stay with you?” she said.

This question seemed to cause great distress with the older Pokémon. His grimace deepened and he removed his pince-nez, looking up at the sky as if it would give him answers. Again, Luna moved forward. “I think you’re nice,” she said softly.

He audibly sniffled at the comment and his eyes grew misty. Slowly— very slowly— he nodded. Luna padded over to him and looked at his teary face. This was a strange, strange ‘mon, but for some reason she felt safe with him. She settled in next to him and rested her head against his cloak.

---

And so they left, headed towards a new beginning for both of them.


((Not quite a puppy-- please forgive my liberal interpretation of the prompt.))

Tomash and Peregin were walking around HQ for some reason when they saw a small dog wandering the hallways.

"Aww, look, a puppy!" Tomash said, picking up the lost-looking dog. "It's so cute"

"Do you not think that we should report a stray animal wandering about Headquarters?" asked Peregrin.

"Well, yeah, maybe eventually. But we could keep it until someone shows up to claim the poor thing.?"

"I am not certain that we have the resources to care for it. And it would violate the — no, never mind, that doesn't apply here."

"You've got a point there. We've already got a bunch of other stuff going on. But he's cute, and I think we can hold on to him until we find someone who wants to take him in."

"I think that would be a reasonable solution. And much better for the young thing. I cannot imagine that there are many sources of food in the corridors."

(( Not sure if this is any good. Also, I can't endings. ))

Apecian looked down at the puppy in front of him. It was absolutely adorable. He couldn't tell what breed it was, but he knew it was perfect. "Awww," he cooed. He scratched the puppy behind the ears. "Who's a cute puppy? Who's a cute puppy? Are you a cute puppy? Yes you are! Yes you are!" The puppy's tongue slipped out of its mouth, and it rolled onto its belly, clearly asking for a belly rub. Apecian happily obliged. "Isn't he the cutest?" he asked his partner.

"Apecian," Michael sighed. "I don't think we can take care of a puppy. Besides, we already have Ron and Mayuku. Do we really need another pet?"

"Please," Apecian begged, looking up and trying to make his eyes wider. It didn't really work.

"No."

"Oh, come on! I promise, this is the last pet, and I'll take care of him!" Michael considered it for a moment.

"You'll feed him?" he asked.

"Yup!"

"And teach him to use Ron's box?"

"Of course!"

"And pick up after him when he forgets?"

"Uh huh!"

"And make sure he doesn't chew up my books?"

"Yeah!" Apecian said eagerly. Michael sighed.

"Alright, you've got a month. If you can prove to me you can take care of him by yourself for that long, you can keep him."

"Woo hoo!" Apecian cheered. He picked up the puppy carefully, and started scratching behind its ears again. "Aren't you just the cutest? Yes you are! Yes you are! You're gonna come live with us now, okay?" The puppy yipped. "I know! You'll love it. We'll give you food, and you can sleep in my bed, and- oh! You need a name. How about... Socrates?" The newly dubbed Socrates yipped again. Apecian smiled and kept scratching as he followed his partner to the next scene.

Wait, I don’t actually need that anymore. I got Permission now and can write them whenever I want to. Still, it’s a challenge, so here we go. (You may want to read this first.)

---

Increasing hunger is not a good distraction when one tries to find the cafeteria; it had delayed them further, making their hunger increase even more in an endless loop. Only when they had started to discuss recent developments in the Potterverse, they had suddenly found themselves in a large room full of tables and chairs, with a counter and some vending machines on one side. Hieronymus still wondered how he had not noticed passing a door, but a door was certainly there, since he had nearly been thrown out through it by a horde of angry agents when he had tried to jump the queue. After going through all this, Hieronymus was quite impatient when Androia, who had sneakily moved forward while half of the agents who had been in the queue were occupied elsewhere, finally put two dishes on the table. He grabbed the fork, but then he started.

"Are you sure that this is meatballs with mixed vegetables?"

"Yes, I am," said Androia, taking the seat next to him. "Why do you ask?"

"’cause it’s moving."

"Really? Mine only moves when I stir it." Androia stirred the food with her spoon to demonstrate the effect.

Hieronymus watched his dish suspiciously. "I hope this isn’t another meatloaf incident." He poked the vegetables with his fork. "What the F–"

"Watch your language! "

"–lying Featherduster is that?!"

A pair of triangular, furry ears peaked out between the broccoli, and a pair of wide, dark eyes lured form under the cabbage.

"Awww," cooed Androia and reached out to shift the vegetables aside and scratch the tiny head. "Who's a cute kitten? Who's a cute kitten? Are you a cute kitten? Yes you are! Yes you are!"

The kitten sneezed and shook off the carrots and cauliflower. Hieronymus glared at the mess on the table.

"Isn't it the cutest?" Androia asked her partner.

Hieronymus frowned at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Androia?"

"Hey, I am trying to develop some personality traits. At home, I was never allowed to do that. It was all running and fighting and casting spells, and the occasional flower-picking to gain proficiency."

Oh, crap. That’s what happens if you don’t keep your Player Character on a short leash.

Androia picked up the kitten carefully, and started scratching behind its ears again. "Aren't you just the cutest? Yes you are! Yes you are! You're gonna come live with us now, okay?" The kitten purred. "I know! You'll love it. We'll give you food, and you can sleep in my bed, and – oh! You need a name."

"Look," said Hieronymus carefully, "we can’t keep it. Seeing how we always skip months of HQ time while we are on a mission, who should be in charge of its litter box?"

At another table, Apecian nudged his partner. "Did you hear that? This plagiarizing b–"

"Stop!" Michael interrupted. "Give her some slack, she’s still learning."

"But that plagiarizing beast took all my words to put them in the night elf’s mouth!"

"Oh, that you meant. So you think it’s a copycat, then?”

---

HG, never resisting an opportunity.

This got long, folks. I'm not even sure it will fit in a single post, and I don't know what happens when it doesn't. It got long enough that I probably should have gotten a beta for it, but I want to hit as many of these prompts before the thread falls off the front page as possible.

I also know this is throwing a lot of new characters at you all. I've tried to balance explaining a bit about them without bogging down the pacing. I'll be making a separate story eventually about Millie/Mollie and Olsen/Ollie adjusting to life in the Nursery that will hopefully flesh out the other kids better. For now, enjoy my token single story of the year!

"Fake-A-Wish Foundation"

Sunday
"So . . . this clearly doesn't have an actual plot."

"Yeah," said Laquisha. "It's super-fun, though!"

Mollie and Ollie exchanged a glance. Ollie asked, "But . . . aren't we supposed to be learning new canons?"

"This is a canon!" Laquisha protested as her Lucina launched Mollie's Villager off screen. "Agents have done Smash Bros. missions, I swear! I can pull some mission reports off the net if you want."

"That's all right," Mollie said. "Just—"

"Relaaaaaaax, girl," Laquisha interrupted. "It's the weekend. That means—"

She cut off as a ghostly wail sounded around them. An orange figure flew through the door to Mollie's room. It had large, exaggerated facial features, turned down into a heavily pronounced frown, and a swirling hairdo that pointed upwards. Its torso trailed off into a little wisp at the end.

Mollie and Ollie ducked down against the floor, but Laquisha just said, "Time?"

"Yup!" replied the orange figure.

"I wish for a mozzarella-flavored lollipop."

"Done!" the floating creature replied happily.

A whitish lollipop appeared in midair next to Laquisha, who grabbed it and popped it straight into her mouth.

The ghostly figure, who was now the same off-white color as the sucker, clasped his hands and said, "Thank you!" Then he sank through the floor.

Mollie and Ollie stared at Laquisha as she swirled the lollipop around in her mouth. She stared back for a few seconds, then finally relented. "His name is Banda. He's a genie—Augh, I mean jinn. Grants one wish a day."

The new kids sat up straighter. "Any wish?" Ollie whispered reverently.

Laquisha glared. "It's not for fun. Banda hurts until he grants the wish."

The pair shrank a bit. "Oh," muttered Ollie.

Mollie asked, "But why mozzarella?"

Laquisha raised her eyebrows. "Because it tastes good? Obviously. Pick up your dang controllers, I'm unpausing in three, two . . ."

Monday
"Yikes," Mollie said as she left the classroom. "An essay on how the Mane Six's personality traits match up to their Elements of Harmony? This is going to take all afternoon." She marched along between Ollie and Laquisha through the corridors of the Nursery's classrooms hallway.

"Don't forget the extra credit question about Spike!" Laquisha chimed in.

Ollie scoffed. "There's no way I'm spending time on—"

"I always do the extra credit!" Laquisha continued. "It's fun."

"Good for you, Hermione!" Mollie teased.

"Psh. Hermione's got nothing on me."

"Wish!" came a cry from a side hall. Banda flew around the corner, still white like the previous day. "Someone wish something!"

Laquisha tapped Mollie on the shoulder. "Go."

Mollie froze. She stared at the jinn for a moment, then realized he was clutching at his stomach. She blurted out, "Uh, I wish for a, uh, a, hot dog?"

“Done!”

A hot dog appeared before her, sans bun or any condiments. She grabbed for it, but jerked her hand away as the meat burned her a bit. She fanned her hand as the hot dog fell to the ground.

Banda, now a pinkish-brown color, frowned. "A thousand pardons!"

"Don't apologize, honey," Laquisha said gently, then turned to Mollie. "Need to be specific. Banda doesn't control the wish, he just lets it happen."

Mollie noticed Banda's gaze drop to his right wrist, and the stamped gold circlet around it.

Tuesday
“What do you think?”

“Still reading.” Marty flipped to the next page of Ollie’s essay. “It’s good so far.”

“Just good?”

Marty glanced up briefly. “It’s homework. It’s never as good as when we’re writing something for fun. But it’s good so far. No worries.”

“Mm. Yeah.” Ollie put his head in his hands. “Sorry.”

Marty shrugged.

There were still a few minutes left before class would start. Although Professor Beans hadn’t shown up yet. Another group of their classmates trickled through the door, chatting. Banda floated in the air above the heavily dressed Riso and Edwin, the little rolling robot. Ollie waved to them as they all moved to their usual places, still talking.

Suddenly, Banda went ramrod straight, then hugged himself, making a slight “urgh” noise. Ollie felt Marty’s fist pound into his shoulder. “Go.”

Ollie straightened up. "I wish for a soda."

"Done!"

A green and pink metal can popped into existence on Ollie’s desk. He picked it up and read the name. “Slurm?”

I think not. A slim, leafy vine snaked around the can and pulled it away. Professor Beans lobbed it through the portal it had just used to enter the classroom. I’m told it’s highly addictive!

Marty pointed in Ollie’s face. “Specific.”

Wednesday
Ollie chewed. “Wow.” He chewed some more. “Wow,” he said again. “This is so much worse than I even imagined.” He pulled a white chunk out of his mouth. “Why is there cartilage in this cabbage sandwich?” He let it drop into the pile of grey film the bluish bread of his sandwich had left on the tray.

“And the grown-ups actually eat here? Every day?”

“Shush!” Anne whispered. “We don’t need the agents finding out about the secret good food in the Nursery.” Anne was a middle eastern girl who kept her black hair short and really liked wearing denim.

“And keep in mind,” Riso added, “the smell’s not usually this bad.” After the kids had sat down, a hulking, demonic agent dripping with yellowish fluids had arrived and claimed the table directly behind them.

“It’s not exactly helping,” Ollie admitted, forcing down another bite.

“So, um, with Banda . . .” Mollie began.

“Ugh,” said Riso.

“Newbies always get so hung up on that.”

Mollie plunged forward anyway. “It seems like no one ever wishes . . . big?”

Anne and Riso sighed. Anne fixed Mollie with a hard stare. “You’ve already seen how it is. The wishes don’t always come out right. It’s King Solomon’s fault.”

Riso corrected, “Suleiman the Great. Banda’s magic isn’t supposed to be used like this. Suleiman enslaved all the spirits in his empire to serve people.”

“Typical grown-up,” Anne muttered.

“It’s not that Banda is screwing things up on purpose. The magic itself is fighting back against being forced to do things the wrong way.”

“And the bigger the wish, the bigger the screw-up. Banda feels awful when he messes things up, so there’s no reason to make things harder on him and risk causing a big problem. And if you really have to go for it for some reason, you have to be a total lawyer about it.”

A Slurm-green figure rose up through the table. “Sorry to interrupt . . .”

Anne leaned in close to Banda and whispered, “I wish for this agent—” She pointed directly to the demon. “—to have a smell that smells good to the majority of human noises until he leaves the Cafeteria.”

Banda grinned. “Done!”

Behind them, Agent Chliever raised a pulsating arm and sniffed under it. “Ugh,” he growled, “better get that checked out.”

The human students all inhaled, then sighed in relief. Anne said, “Banda, thank you. That was perfect!”

Banda, now unfortunately the same color as the demon agent, moved into a reclining position in midair. “I have my moments.”

Thursday
For P.E. that day the class split into two teams of seven to play baseball in the Miss Cam Courtyard. Edwin sat out, due to its inability to roll fast enough to participate, but robots don’t need exercise anyway. Alfajiri, having no hands, remained in the outfield all game and played against whatever team was batting at the time.

Up to bat, Mollie talked quietly to Fox, who stood behind her as catcher. “So, Banda . . . his wish thing goes off a different time every day?” She let Anne’s pitch fly past, and heard Fox shift as he caught the ball.

“Ball one!” called Who.

“Um. I guess?” Fox said quietly as he returned the ball to Anne. “I mean, if you’re still trying to measure time . . . don’t try measuring time.”

From the outfield, Harry called, “So if I catch the old bally baller, I brosat to Who?”

“It stopped being funny the first class period, Harry,” Anne called over her shoulder. She threw again.

Mollie hit it this time, and the ball headed for the left side of the outfield. Banda floated over the ground towards it, with Harry and Alfajiri heading the same way.

“I’ve got it!” the jinn yelled. “I’ve goooaugh!” He clutched at his head, and the ball passed straight through him.

Alfajiri brought all four legs to a skidding halt. “Wish time? I’m hungry! I wish for a zebra!” Then Harry slammed into the young spotted hyena, leaving them both prone on the ground as a striped unicorn with a scraggly black beard appeared next to them, towering over them.

Who called out to the Courtyard, “Someone contact the Waterlily Commander!”

Harry swore as the zebra unicorn raised up and on its hind legs, but Marty suddenly appeared out of nowhere and yanked both his classmates away with a savage twisting motion, leaving the unicorn to stomp down on empty grassland. It gave a high, yelping cry and pointed its horn at the three students. It started to charge just before a pair of snow wolves crashed into it from the side, latching onto its neck and hind leg. The unicorn stumbled, then turned its horn towards the side of attack.

“Now, sisters! Strike at the exposed flank!” Five small, bronze wolves ran in from the other side and got between the unicorn’s legs, biting into its stomach.

Alfajiri was giggling. “Yeah, yeah, a hunt a hunt!” He ran forward to join roman’s pack

Mollie had been watching over Anne’s head, but suddenly realized the other girl was giving her a hard look.

Friday
“Now then, let’s have a bit of a review from last week,” said the male copy of Professor Vector who had been recruited from the Rose Potter missions. “What is the one number you can never divide with?”

“Zero!” Laquisha blurted out.

“Correct! Incidentally, you also can’t divide by skadzz, but most universes haven’t discovered that number yet. We won’t be covering it for several years. Now.” Vector wrote “1/0” as a fraction on the whiteboard. “In World One, it was Brahmagupta who first examined the concept of dividing by zero, though of course the wizarding world had a for more complex understanding centuries earlier, thanks to arithmancy . . . how curious . . .” He leaned closer to the whiteboard, where a tiny dot had appeared in the middle of the “0” he had drawn.

Banda dropped his pencil and grabbed one zebra-striped hand with the other, wincing.

“All right, keep all your rots closed,” Harry yelled, leaping from his seat. “It’s my turn, and I’m like wishing for Superman and Goku to reenact their Death Battle right here in the skolliwoll!”

Meanwhile, Professor Vector was distracted watching the hole on the board slowly widen. He gently felt the edge of the opening with one finger, which was promptly sucked into it up to the knuckle. “Oh, Merlin.”

Laquisha slammed her pencil down and stood up, glaring at Harry. “That. Isn’t. FUNNY. Make a real wish. Now.”

Harry smiled smugly. “Make me, little kisa.”

Laquisha stepped around her desk to stand over him, and Harry returned her glare. She quietly said, “You know that wish won’t work. He can’t pull main characters out of their worlds. Make a real wish.”

Harry blew a raspberry. “You all assume like, but we haven’t tried everything. Maybe a great, bolshy wish takes a while longer. Shall we have ourselves a little nokky?”

Vector’s hand was now up to the wrist in the slowly spreading hole. He held his wand awkwardly in his other hand. “Carpe retractum!” A rope slithered out of his wand, but was sucked all the way into the hole like a wet noodle. He stared for a moment. “Finite Incantatem?” He aimed at his wrist. “Accio hand! Impedimenta! . . . Ow.”

“Banda is hurting.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not.” He smiled and folded his arms behind his head, leaning back.

The jinn held his hurting hand in close to his stomach, and tears dripped from his eyes as he looked from Laquisha to Harry.

Marty started to say, “I wish—”

“NO.” Laquisha’s gaze never left Harry’s face. “Harry will do it.”

“Aaauugh!” Professor Vector cried. His entire shoulder had sunk into the whiteboard, and the edges were straining against his neck and ribcage. He had dropped his wand in favor of pressing his hand against the board, trying to shove himself out of the ever-widening hole. He cried, “I wish this wasn’t happening!”

“Done!” Banda cried desperately.

Professor Vector fell to the floor. The hole disappeared. He stiffly got to his feet and said, “And to, er, to summarize, it’s an . . . exceedingly poor idea to divide by zero. Er, yes.” He took in the shocked expressions of his students, and the very perturbed looks worn by Laquisha and Harry. “Oh, there’s no need to be upset, children! See: I’m perfectly fine!”

Saturday
From their seat on a couch, Mollie and Ollie watched across the main Nursery room as Laquisha talked to Banda. She was in tears, and Banda was holding her shoulders, looking down with a look of pity.

Eventually, Laquisha gave Banda a sad smile and left for the girls’ dorms. The jinn began to float away through the crowd of children.

Mollie and Ollie looked at each other for a second. Then Mollie called, “Hey, Banda!”

Banda heard and peered at them, then floated closer. Once he reached them, he said, “Greetings, new classmates!”

“Hello,” Ollie said, awkwardly. “Um, have a seat?”

“Surely,” said Banda. His wisp trail immediately popped into a pair of legs, which were white with math equations all over, like the rest of him. He floated down gently into a reclining position on the cushions between the human kids, who giggled.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” Mollie said.

Banda shrugged. "We haven’t really had a chance to speak before, no?”

“No,” Mollie admitted. She cleared her throat. “So, how . . . have you been?”

Banda didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the coffee table in front of the couch for a few moments. Eventually, he just said, “I am well.”

“Mmm.” Now Ollie cleared his throat. “So, um, Mollie and I wanted to ask—”

“You have a wish,” Banda stated, not looking at either of them.

“Well, kind of,” Mollie said. She took Banda’s hand. “We wish . . . we could get to know you better . . . and be your friends?

Banda raised his eyebrows and look both kids in the eyes, one after the other.

Then, he smiled.

"Done."

((A/N: Obviously uncanonical, I have no Permission to write for the PPC.))

The plastic bottle spun around, periodically throwing droplets of ranch dressing onto eir legs. Agent Kebrdå used to be proud of feeling things more strongly than other people. Ey felt as if ey had access to a higher plane of understanding. Why wasn't everyone else crying at the end of "A Rambunctious Animal Travel" [rough translation from Eastern Venusian]? They must be missing out on something. But right now, if Kebrdå had one wish, ey would get rid of all that just to not be paralyzed in the center of the Cafeteria, crying over a spilled and broken bowlful of enchiladas and a spinning salad dressing bottle.

Gaspard turned the cube over in his hands, studying the intricate carvings inlaid on five of the faces and the ornate ruby with the immaculately polished facets on the sixth. He looked at the cloaked figure in front of him.

“One wish?” he said.

“Only one,” said the man. “Say it aloud and press the button.”

“And this works?” said Gaspard, placing the cube button-up on the table in front of him. “Just like magic?”

“It is magic,” said the man, crossing his arms. “Go on. Make a wish.”

Gaspard looked back at the cube. There were a lot of things he wished for-- an end to war or to disease or to unhappiness. Or perhaps food for everyone on Earth or even--

The cloaked man leaned in. “You can be selfish, too,” he said simply.

Gaspard leaned back a little, wondering if this man was able to read minds. His gaze fell upon the cube again as he wondered-- what would make him happy?

“I... I’m not worth spending a wish on,” he said slowly. “I’m not the smartest or kindest or wisest person here-- there must be someone better qualified than me to be entrusted with a wish. I don’t deserve this.”

Even though the man’s face was obscured by his cowl, Gaspard could feel the disappointment in his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked.

The Spy returned the gaze. “Give it to someone who really needs it.”

The man wordlessly pushed the cube back towards Gaspard, who seemed to recoil from it. “I’ll say it again. You are allowed to be selfish.”

Gaspard stared at the wish-cube in silence for a long few minutes. Then, ever so slowly, he raised his hand and placed it on the big red button. “I wish to not die alone,” he said in a tiny voice as he pressed the button.

(Since I haven't changed them from their original author's portrayal yet.)

—doctorlit is working on that interlude

Feel free to use Marvin and Printworthy.

Finch and Bingle and Maz and Yocherry and John Johnson from Accounting. Those fellows.

Er. Assuming this's under same rules as the Discord one.