#because it's soooo good at making you read all the choices and weigh them up against each other

[kirkwallguy]

i think something origins does that the da games have gotten incrementally worse at is using dialogue choices for effective roleplay. like yeah everyone complains about The Wheel but i think that dai and dav's choices would be equally shit even if they were presented origins style. trying to get into lothering, i was given two pretty much identical options to intimidate the bandits outside - i could either ask if they wanted to fight a grey warden OR if they wanted to fight a mage. and these choices literally don't matter, either way it's the same intimidation check, but choosing between them makes you think for a second about your characters' priorities and what part of themself they might think is the most intimidating. even if you're not the kind of person that gets super into making up a deep character while playing games, it really makes you feel attached to your warden and the world they're in.

[impinged]

here for the portrayal meme!!! gonna start by saying u write siffrin in a way that is SO visceral it boggles my mind. u replicate his thought processes during the bridge between act 4 and 5 so naturally i can genuinely picture all of it written within isat's text boxes-- it's like reading an extension of the narrative itself, it's that good.

it's also just super obvious that you have a lot of passion for sif, their struggles, and every facet included in that. you aren't afraid to show off their worse traits alongside their better ones (important, considering their canon point lol), and it's always a delight to just sit there frowning at my screen after each reply, agonizing over how well you're able to contrast what they say vs how they feel. it hurts.....

last thing: you app'd them while i was still mid-act 3 and i literally had to force myself to Look Away because i could instantly tell u knew Exactly what u were doing with his character and i'd only spoil the spiral myself if i indulged, even if i rly, RLY wanted to

beep beep…

THIS IS SOOOO FUNNY but also incredibly kind oml HELP

to tackle your last point, yeah... i don’t exactly alert anyone anywhere about it but my blog is definitely not spoiler free by any means ^^;;

i dunno if it is vain or not to agree with you but i'm also flattered you think the same as i do--i take a lot of pride in where exactly i pulled him from. it was a very deliberate choice, like, seriously i put off two whole app runs as i weighed the options. even just writing their app i was like... is this too much? will people think i'm insane?? will this dissuade them from writing with me??? it just felt like i was being extra for no reason LOL.... now, obviously, i've had great success in putting him in situations, which makes me very happy! and it's an honor to hear that my efforts to compliment the source with my writing also pays off ^_^

i need to be put down i just have the itch to yap now i should be banished to and just generally better at doing this in my government assigned echo chamber in the discord.

to get more into my thought process.. ultimately, i felt that ACT 5 was just too much of an emotional shift for him to like… interact? well?? not that it wouldn’t be possible, there is just such a stark contrast to him as i’m sure you’re aware lol... some of his castmates being from ACT 5 is so deliciously devious though. (sniles so sneetly at you.)

but i also didn’t really want ACT 6 either, especially when throwing him in here after the fact. i’d like to think i’m not too subtle with how much i play up the similarities between isola and The Situation in dormont so chucking him in here after such huge emotional payoff felt TOO MEAN. you can argue i am mean to them here (true, valid, and inarguable) but it was just a different breed to me and i don’t think there’d be any bouncing back emotionally from that. any other act felt "too early"... there was just too much they'd either lack to make him more than Just A Fella or even just too much for me to have to account for in describing my canon point so that potential future castmates could easily know how much siffrin knew.

i wanted to thread the needle and so the easiest compromise was just... after the bombshell that is ACT 4’s ending. fitting too, to end right after a loop. they basically just woke up here instead of dormont! i feel like this is the easiest way to like... he doesn’t have the full-on mental shutdown yet, to put it lightly, but also can easily be triggered into the horrifically despondent and callous behavior that you are hit with once ACT 5 begins. a very 'has given up but hasn't given in' type mindset i guess.

for example, one of my threads with uzi (and an ask from aury that i am still work-shopping) is absolutely delightful in discovering that even just simple words and phrases can trigger him in specific ways and i really enjoy this element to siffrin's characterization. even my most recent reply with loop has me going 'if siffrin's blog did those word cloud things the SIZE of the words break/fail/rot would be gigantic atp.' figuring out the things that have happened in countless loops that stick with him is a fantastic experience. there's even more i haven't gotten to explicitly reference that i want to sooo bad (though a Knower may be able to see when i implied them. also once again sniling so sneetly at you. teehee.)

there are honestly so many threads and interactions i could point to that have small, almost innocuous details that have me personally in shambles like. oh god. oh it's happening (go back starts playing.) i even have my own mischievous set up slowly building that may one day pay off IT'S SOOOO FUNN... i am having fun putting sif in my little torture chamber science experiment pear wiggler what have you

[capristormcloud]

Soooo I just saw the second season of KOTZ and now whoever's reading this is going to suffer, because yeah I abuse punctuation and caps and I grumble a lot, sorry.

(and yes I always watch things years later why do you ask?)

Where's my good-natured Aldebaran who laughs rather than frowns and gets all paranoid? At least develop him if you want to change his personality.

You had 12 episodes to cover ~7 Gold Saint fights and instead of developing the Gold Saints or the Bronze Saints you chose to flood the show with filler?

Very badly written and very badly timed filler that broke the flow of the show???

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO JUNE?!?!?

Did... did you think that Kiki was not annoying enough on his own? You had to give him a partner? And that partner had to be JUNE????? Was it like a "she's blonde so she can be the childish impulsive girl" kind of thing?

I mean yes Shunrei has a little backbone and Saori got to defend herself and do a little speech, so I guess that was enough empowerment and it justifies doing that to June.....???

I'm not even going to mention Shaun, to me this is original series Shun whose voice hasn't broken yet.

What... what was that with the butterfly???? I... nope. I just can't.

That whole thing on Star Hill was so very very very stupid.

The concept of Mu and Aldebaran investigating with Marin and June was intriguing, and then it got really boring and silly.

Why. The fuck. Were there SKELETONS??? did you think it was such a good scene in the original that you needed a whole episode of that? Totally pointless.

You know where the show actually holds up and has good moments? When it follows the manga/anime faithfully! Go figure!

Is it meant to look like the characters are plastic action figures? I'd forgotten about the textures on that show and... it's a choice, I guess? I don't hate it, but it's jarring at times.

The animation, however... most of them walk like they've got sticks up their butts. Or like their Cloths weigh 500kg. Which they don't. Because if your Cosmos is healthy the Cloth... oh nevermind.

I mean I enjoyed bits of it. I enjoyed it much more than Super Technology Talking Grate Saint Seiya from the first season. But there were some very very poor choices there that didn't make the show as delightful as it could be, shall we say.

[edendaphne]

"Discordant Sonata”- Ch. 12

TFW your rich AF dad is a stingy SOB who only gives you one shirt to wear 🤣

(And YEP! In this AU Adrien wears glasses! He wears contact lenses for photoshoots/modeling)  :3c

>Read it here on Ao3<

>Read it here on Wattpad<

CHAPTER 12: ANDANTE

Music glossary: Andante - to go at a moderate, steady pace

French glossary: “Les Deux Sots” = The Two Fools/Idiots

(La Dispute (Amelie Soundtrack)- Yann Tiersen)

Marinette was upset.

Not so much upset, really. More like… confused? Frustrated? And not even at Fu, necessarily. It wasn’t his fault. But Fu was the messenger, and therefore, the undeserving recipient of her current mental ire.

With the critical 48 hours of Chat Noir’s healing complete, she’d gone to visit Fu to discuss some of the concerns she had about her new partnership, along with some other pressing questions. The answers were… not quite what she expected (or wanted) to hear.

No, Marinette, he’d said. You must not know Chat Noir’s identity, he’d said. Yes, I know you just want to protect him as a civilian. No, don’t try to figure it out yourself. If you find out too early, you’ll absorb the negative effects from the misuse of his miraculous. Yes, that is always what happens with the Cat and Ladybug miraculouses. Yes, that’s why wielders must not know each others’ identities; not until their souls and energies are perfectly in sync with each other. No, Marinette, you are not in perfect sync with each other. Yes, I know you don’t like it. But that is how it must be. Have a nice day, Marinette. No, I’m not kicking you out. I’m just... going to the spa to get rid of a sudden tension headache. Goodbye.

“Understood, Master,” she’d said. And honestly, yes; she really did understand.

But she still didn’t like it.

The conversation weighed heavily on her mind as she went about her daily chores, and she couldn’t help but stomp around the house as she worked, a perpetual crinkle fixed between her eyebrows.

She just couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Negative effects? Truth be told, prior to this, she’d even almost suspected that Fu had exaggerated that aspect of the miraculouses, in order to keep her on the straight and narrow path and be responsible.

Such matters had been far from her mind while befriending Chat Noir. She’d never even thought to ask him about it. How long would these effects linger on, even after his change of heart and proper use of his miraculous?

More importantly, would the effects ever fully disappear? Fu said that every case was different. Sometimes the effects did fade. Other times, they did not; and in those cases, partners couldn’t ever reveal their identities to each other. In rare instances, the wielders would even have to return their miraculouses to the guardians, because they would never be able to work in proper harmony with the other. Marinette shuddered. She didn’t want to even consider that possibility.

In any case, Hawkmoth was suffering from such negative effects as well. What could his ailments be? Chat had mentioned that he seemed to be losing control of his akumas, and his judgment was becoming increasingly clouded. But was there more?

Frowning, she stuffed folded laundry into her dresser drawers with a bit more force than necessary. She quickly stood up when she was finished, yanking the laundry basket away with a huff as she headed towards her next task.

There was also another question, one she’d had even years ago, when she’d first become Ladybug. One she’d always been too shy to ask, always trusting in Fu’s judgment, never questioning him because of his seniority and experience (respecting one’s elders having been an integral part of her upbringing, particularly her mother’s).

But now that she was older, she’d finally gathered enough courage to ask him: Why hadn’t he revealed Chat’s identity to her years ago? With enough luck, she might have been able to steal back his miraculous when he wasn’t transformed while he was out of the house. So, why hadn’t he told her?

Fu’s answer had been remarkably simple: He’d wanted Chat to have a relatively normal life outside of the mask. He’d always held out hope that Chat would turn away from his unrighteous deeds on his own. Having people around him that treated him kindly and that he could trust would give him the courage to do so. If he didn’t have that, he would have felt that he had nowhere to turn to, and no choice but to remain as he was.

Fu added that if she’d had any contact with Chat, either as herself or as Ladybug, she would have treated him differently, possibly with hostility. Marinette had wanted to deny it at first, but she knew he was right. She would have treated him differently. Probably would’ve avoided him, spoken to him harshly, given him dirty looks from across the street. She might have even tried to convince her friends that he wasn’t a good person, much like her situation with Lila. Not that that had ever worked; that girl was just way too deceptive. After all these years, she’d given up on even trying. Without any concrete evidence, Marinette’s claims that Lila was a rotten liar wouldn’t convince anyone, except thankfully for Alya and Nino; but even they had been skeptical at first.

In any case, Marinette would have most likely become angry, cold, or maybe even embittered towards Chat if she wasn’t able to retrieve his miraculous right away. And Chat would’ve responded with confusion, hurt, and resentment towards both her and Ladybug, permanently eliminating any chance to become partners.

The troubled girl sighed wearily, walking towards the downstairs bathroom with a basket full of supplies for their feline guest, still mulling over her earlier discussion. There just had to be other options she hadn’t considered yet–

Still distracted, deliberating the myriad of possibilities and worrying over every potential outcome, Marinette swung the bathroom door open... only to be greeted by a tall, toned, and very much bare backside, whose modesty was barely concealed by a small towel wrapped around the waist. Rivulets of water coursed down the valleys and ripples of the lightly tanned skin, and her eyes couldn’t help but follow them down their path, gracefully gliding from the tops of the broad shoulders, still rosy and glowing from the shower’s hot water, and disappearing into the edges of the towel, which rode low along the hips. The shock of damp, golden hair gave Marinette the confirmation of who exactly the stranger in her bathroom was. Practically tripping over her feet, she slammed the door shut, a loud screech abruptly escaping her throat.

“OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH, I AM SOOOO SORRY!!!” she yelled in between pants. “I thought the bathroom was empty!!! I was just gonna drop off some muscles— I mean toilets— I mean toiletries!!! I’ll just... leave them here outside the door! SORRYAGAIN, BYE!!!”

Marinette sprinted all the way to her bedroom and plopped like a dead fish onto her chaise, letting out a long, shrill whine into the cushions. She flopped over onto her back, shoving a throw pillow onto her face, and considered smothering herself out of existence in order to avoid having to face Chat Noir ever again. Maybe she’d come back to Earth reincarnated as an actual ladybug, and she could flee from the city to go live in the country. Cannes was supposed to be nice this time of year.

Before her plans could come to fruition, specifically the one about becoming the insect she already felt like, she sluggishly removed the pillow from her face to get some air.

Only to be greeted by a small, floating… cat??

No, not a cat.

A kwami.

Chat Noir’s kwami.

“Boo,” he said flatly.

Marinette sat up, careful to not bump into the tiny god.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, although she suspected Plagg wasn’t so much staring as sizing her up. Gauging her adequacy, perhaps? He’d worked alongside countless other Ladybugs these past few millennia, so the thought made her a bit nervous.

“You must be Plagg,” she said, concealing her surprise.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Plagg replied with a showy twirl. “I am quite noteworthy.”

Marinette’s eyes crinkled in amusement. That wasn’t quite was she’d been expecting.

She extended her hand with a smile. “Hi, I’m Marinette.”

Plagg took her hand and turned it over, examining her palm. “Hmph, no Camembert?” he asked with obvious disappointment. “Introductions can wait. My stomach cannot. ”

Marinette snickered. She hadn’t expected such an ornery attitude from a kwami; nevertheless, she decided she liked him already.

She tugged open her shirt pocket and said, “Hop in. Let’s go fetch some from the kitchen.”

Plagg approached the pocket and Tikki poked her little head out.

Marinette chuckled. “I’m sure you remember Tikki.”

“Always a pleasure, Sugarcube,” he bowed deeply with an exaggerated flourish that was so entirely Chat-like, she could definitely tell that their mannerisms had rubbed off on each other.

“Hello again, Stinky Sock,” Tikki replied.

“Hey, Camembert is the most amazing fragrance known to man. It’s a shame you’re not enlightened enough to truly appreciate the beauty of fermented foods.”

Tikki rolled her eyes, but nevertheless scooted over to let him in.

Upon reaching the kitchen and making sure the coast was clear, Marinette ushered the pair out of her pocket. She pulled out a plate and made her way to the refrigerator with Plagg hovering nearby, watching her curiously.

Marinette had anticipated that he’d be hungry, so she'd gone shopping that morning after visiting Fu, specifically to stock up on cheese. Even still, she had grossly underestimated just how ravenous the kwami would be; her eyes widened as the pile on the plate grew higher and higher.

Once finished, Marinette set it down on the countertop, trying to avoid thinking too hard about how all that food would fit inside his small body.

“Uhh, do you also want some crackers, or some fruit, or…?” she trailed off, unsure of how else to be of service.

“Nothing more is needed when you already have perfection,” Plagg remarked before picking up a particularly pungent piece of cheese and taking a deep, long whiff.

Tikki’s tiny features scrunched in distaste as she put some more distance between herself and the odorous meal.

Marinette stood beside them, not quite sure what to do with herself or what to say. Maybe Plagg could answer some questions without revealing too much.

Deciding to give it a try, she asked, “So... Plagg. What can you tell me about Hawkmoth? You don’t have to go into any details. Just anything that you think would be helpful to know, so we can figure out a plan to defeat him?”

Plagg frowned, then followed up with an appalled grimace. “Seriously?! Right in front of my Camembert??” He harrumphed. “Let’s talk about that jackass some other time. Believe it or not, I lose my appetite anytime I think about him.”

“Fair enough,” Marinette relented. She puckered her lips, deep in thought as she took a seat on the barstool nearby. “Oh, I know! What kinds of hobbies does Chat have? Maybe I can get him some supplies or other stuff that he likes, so he can relax and feel more at home.”

“Hmm… Well, you already know he likes games, both videogames and tabletop,” Plagg replied in between bites. “He likes to read. The classics, fantasy, sci-fi, fanfiction, comic books...” Another bite. “He spends a ridiculous amount of time writing poetry and short stories. Also…” Chomp . “Sappy movies... Anime.” Gulp . “He’s not a great singer, but that doesn’t stop him from busting into song and dance numbers from his favorite musicals. He is a decent dancer though.” Another gulp, punctuated with a smirk. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

Marinette averted her gaze, a surge of tingles invading her entire body as she remembered that first night together. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet she remembered that evening full of dancing as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.

Plagg gobbled up the last bit on the plate, then wiped his paws on the napkin Marinette had provided. He followed up with a mighty stretch of his small limbs, sighing in contentment.

Marinette’s posture straightened upon seeing that he’d finished his meal. “We should head back to the bedroom. Chat will be looking for you soon.” She hopped off the barstool and the trio made their way back towards Chat’s bedroom.

Marinette grimaced as she placed her hand on the doorknob and let out a pathetic groan. “I better figure out what to say when I apologize for walking in on him.”

They entered the bedroom and she shut the door behind them. She raised her eyebrows, looking hopefully at Plagg. “Do you think he’ll be furious with me?”

Plagg shrugged off her concern. “Oh, puh- lease . I bet he’d actually be quite pleased that you got a good look at him half naked, if he knew who you really were.”

Marinette could only splutter incoherently, her arms waving around like noodles. “WHAT?! WH-WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??”

Plagg gave her a smug look and crossed his little arms . “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Bugaboo , but my boy is majorly crushing on ya.”

“A-a crush…? On me? O-or rather, on Ladybug…?” Heat instantly rushed to her cheeks and all the way to the top of her ears. “I-I wasn’t sure, he hasn’t said anything about it, and, um…”

Plagg shrugged. “Kid’s pretty insecure. Way more than when he first became Chat Noir, thanks to that no-good father of his.” He sighed. “Simply put, he thinks you’re way out of his league and that you’d never go for a guy like him.”

Marinette sputtered, “Out of HIS league?? Have you SEEN him?!” She whipped her arm around, pointing it towards the bathroom door. “He’s more chiseled than a Greek statue! He could be a model!”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s the cat’s pajamas, I know,” Plagg scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, he’s still sorting out his feelings, and definitely too afraid to say anything out loud.” A teasing glint twinkled in his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know what it’s like to be too shy to confess to someone, would you?” he inquired slyly.

Marinette felt the heat travel down her neck and towards her back, and she pursed her lips in shame, having nothing to retort with.

“Plagg!” Tikki rebuked, whizzing in front of him. “Whether Marinette can confess to her own crush is no concern of yours!”

“He’s right, though, Tikki,” Marinette admitted. “I guess it’s not always always totally obvious until you actually say it to them. I just… freeze every time I try to confess to Adri– t-to this guy. It’s like I haven’t progressed at all after all these years.”

“Don’t worry, little bug,” the cat kwami reassured her. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words. I’m sure this mystery man knows you care about him.” He rolled his eyes again and added, “Even if he’s too oblivious to realize it’s a romantic attraction.”

Before Marinette could reply, they heard the bathroom door crack open.

“Plagg...?” a familiar soft voice called through the small opening.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Marinette whispered. “It was great meeting you, Plagg.”

“Likewise. See ya!”

With that, Plagg zoomed towards the bathroom and phased through the door, and Marinette quietly snuck out.

Minutes later, a rather sheepish Chat Noir emerged from the bedroom. Their eyes met and he stiffened, his body gluing to the spot.

Marinette leaped out of the couch and rushed over to him, utterly mortified, body trembling, spewing out apology after apology without taking a breath in between, looking seconds away from bursting into tears from remorse.

Chat placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “It’s okay, Marinette, really! I guess I forgot to lock the door. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to traumatize you or anything.”

Marinette’s eyes blew wide open. “Traumatize me?? No way, you are SO FINE! – Umm!!” Her hands shot up, waving back and forth. “What I mean is, I’m fine!!” She composed herself and continued, “Anyway, I just feel really bad about intruding and violating your privacy. So, please, please, pleeeaaase, is there a way I make it up to you?”

Chat was just about to reassure her again, but paused. He gave her a timid smile. “Actually, there is one thing… Could you teach me how to do laundry?”

(Under Paris Skies - Pearl Django)

As he had only one set of clothes, Adrien resigned himself to the fact that it was time to do some shopping. He didn’t want to go by himself, however; it didn’t feel safe. He had no idea if Gabriel knew he was still alive. He might have dispatched people to search for Adrien and... “collect” him back to the mansion.

Plus, he disliked shopping and could use some company.

So here he was, standing outside of Chloe Bourgeois’ room at the Grand Paris Hotel.

He’d scarcely knocked once when the door swung open, a clearly miffed Chloe standing on the other side.

“You’re late!! Where have you been– Oh, Adrikins! It’s you!” Her face softened and gave him a brilliant smile, kissing his cheeks in greeting, then brought him into a tight hug. “Come in! It’s been ages!”

Before he could get a word in edgewise, he was quickly ushered into the room.

They sat on the elegant, pristine couches of her lounge room. Chloe crossed her legs and reclined into the cushions, placing her hands behind her head in her usual carefree way.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure, my dearest Adrichou?”

Adrien took a breath and opened his mouth–

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted, holding her hand up, then sat up straight and leaned forward. She took a pause, looking him over. Analyzing. Scrutinizing. She scrunched her face in consternation, brows creasing in the middle. “I know that look,” she finally said, crossing her arms. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide and he suppressed a wince. How were all these women able to read him so well these past few days?? He shrugged indifferently for her benefit, mentally preparing himself to attempt to convince her that everything was fine and she was just imagining things.

Before he could say anything though, Chloe interjected sharply, “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, Adrien Agreste. I’m your oldest friend; I’ll know. Tell me everything, or I’ll kick you out.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled. How is she doing this?!

Eyeing Chloe to make sure she didn’t have anything else to say, he began, “Father and I had a... disagreement.”

“I knew it!!” Chloe declared, throwing her hands up in the air.

He continued with a cringe, “And I... kinda sorta ran away from home.” He looked up at her timidly, hoping she wouldn’t yell at him for his recklessness.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” she asked instead, without missing a beat, her voice now serious and full of concern. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Just say the word and it’s done.”

Adrien smiled broadly. Despite all her faults, Chloe’s loyalty never faltered.

“I really appreciate that, Chlo. It means a lot.” He sighed, plopping backwards onto the couch. “I can’t though. Father knows this is the first place I’d go. But don’t worry, I’ve got… housing arrangements elsewhere. So I’ll be fine.”

She sat up straight, scooting towards the edge of the couch and leaning towards him expectantly. “Yeah?? Where at? It’s okay, I can keep a secret–” She stopped herself. “Err… wait. Actually, no. No, I can’t. So don’t tell me or I’ll accidentally blab everything to the first person who asks.”

Adrien chuckled. “Alright. Anyway, since I left in such a hurry, I didn’t bring any clothes with me. So I was wondering if–”

“OOOH, A SHOPPING TRIP!!” Chloe squealed, clapping and practically bouncing in her seat. “Yes, I’d love to join you!”

Adrien gave her a grateful grin. “You would? That would be awesome!”

“Oh one condition,” Chloe said, raising a finger for emphasis. “I get to pick out everything.”

“Wha–?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Everything??”

She casually examined her nails as she answered, "It’s for your own good. We can’t have you looking like a hobo. ‘Cause I KNOW all you're gonna pick is nerdy t-shirts, baggy hoodies, and ripped jeans. And that simply will not do."

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Oh, alright. I agree to your terms.”

“Wonderful!” she replied, eyes twinkling with delight.

Just then, there was a knock. They both stiffened, glancing at the door, then back at each other with trepidation. Chloe wordlessly guided Adrien into the bedroom portion of her suite, making sure he remained concealed behind the adjacent wall.

She all but tiptoed towards the door, careful not to make the floors creak. Adrien held his breath as he cast a furtive peek from behind the wall, watching Chloe cautiously peer through the peephole. She sighed in relief, throwing the door open and placing her hands on her hips in indignation.

“You are LATE!” Chloe declared, then soundly smooched the person outside the door.

“My sincerest apologies. The appointment ran long,” the guest replied as she entered the room.

Adrien recognized that voice.

Chloe scoffed. “UGH, stop it with the politeness! You always sound like you’re about to make a business deal.”

Kagami gave Chloe an unamused stare. “As you wish... ma’am,” she replied with a mischievous smile.

Chloe waved dismissively with a tsk as she made her way to retrieve her hidden friend. “Anyway, suit up. We’re going shopping!”

“Shopping? What for?” Kagami asked.

“Adrien needs a new wardrobe and he cannot be trusted on his own.”

“Hey!” Adrien objected.

Kagami shook her head. “Oh, I agree, he is definitely going to need help. Otherwise he’ll end up dressing like a hooligan.”

“Exactly!” Chloe gestured wildly to show approval.

“Hey! Not you too, Kagami!” Adrien protested.

“Let’s face it, Adrien,” Kagami replied, folding her arms behind her. “Don’t get me wrong; I know you are perfectly aware of what fashionable clothes are supposed to look like. But your…” she wrinkled her nose, “...geek ‘impulses’–”

"FETISHES!" Chloe included.

“-are just too strong for you to resist. You need us.”

Before he had a chance to argue, Chloe called for them, already opening the door. “Well? Let’s go already!”

The trio exited Chloe’s limousine and made their way into the shopping center. They pointedly avoided the “Gabriel” shop and instead entered the Audrey Bourgeois Boutique.

The girls went straight to business, grabbing and piling clothes left and right, scouring through rows of garments and quickly creating matching ensembles with clearly practiced efficiency. Before long, they had a large pile of outfits waiting to be tried on and modeled on the fitting room platform.

“But Chlo, I don’t have my wallet on me,” Adrien whispered into Chloe’s ear. “How am I gonna pay for all this?”

Chloe scoffed. “Pfft, who needs a wallet?” She turned to the nearest store employee. “Hey, you. Add everything we pick out to the Gabriel Agreste tab, will you?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Bourgeois,” the employee replied politely.

Chloe turned back towards Adrien and gave him a wink, then sat down next to Kagami in front of the gigantic mirrors of the dressing area, sliding her hand into her girlfriend’s.

A couple of hours and countless outfit changes later, the three teens exited the boutique. Adrien carried more shopping bags than he could keep track off, all of them plastered with with Audrey's icon; and a part of him hoped that with this many bags from one of Gabriel's competitors, it would somehow get back to his father. Served him right.

Back at the hotel, the concierge assisted in bringing the haul into Chloe’s suite. Chloe whispered something to him as Kagami and Adrien made their way to the bedroom area to begin the task of unwrapping and organizing the new wardrobe. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door, which Chloe answered. A few moments later, she returned with a large yet unassuming black suitcase.

“Here you go, Adrikins,” she said, placing the suitcase on the bed. “You can store your clothes in here and take them back to whatever quaint little cottage you’re staying at.”

Adrien chuckled. “Thanks, Chlo. You’re the best!”

Chloe waved off his compliment. “Yes, well... We already knew that, didn’t we?” She hid a smile, busying herself with packing his clothes into the suitcase.

When they had finished and it was time for Adrien to go, he gave each of them a tight hug and thanked them again for all their help.

“Before you go...” Chloe reached into her back pocket, taking out a cell phone covered in glitter and faux diamonds, and handed it over to him. “Here, I had this old thing lying around. You'll need a SIM card, but the phone works fine.”

Adrien turned the phone in his hands, examining the exceedingly bejeweled exterior. “Wha-? Chloe, I can’t use this! I might go blind from all the sparkles.”

She scoffed. “Well, it’s not like you can be nitpicky at a time like this.”

“What’s the matter, Agreste? Too good for a bit of razzle dazzle?” Kagami heckled.

“You can make anything work, Adrikins. You’ll probably even start a hot new trend.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and pocketed the phone.

“Remember to call if you need anything.” Chloe gave him a stern look and jabbed a finger into his chest. “ANYTHING, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he quipped with a salute, exiting the suite with his luggage.

“Ugh, you two will be the death of me,” Chloe groaned dramatically. “Now go, enjoy your last couple of days of freedom. I’ll see you at school.”

“Bye, girls!” He waved back at them. “I’ll let you know my new number as soon as I buy a new SIM card for the phone.”

With that, Adrien turned and walked down the hall towards the elevators.

Back at the door’s threshold, the pair watched him walk away in silence.

Kagami reached for Chloe’s hand and squeezed. “Do you think everything’s going to be alright? I worry about him. Mr. Agreste has not been himself for quite some time.”

Chloe squeezed back and sighed. “I dunno.” Then she added with a sneer, “Gabriel Agreste is a sad, old bastard whose soul died long ago along with Aunt Emilie. But, he’s connected and powerful. Who knows what he’ll do to try to get Adrien back under his thumb.”

Kagami let out a small, disapproving grunt. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Chloe lightly tugged her back into the room. “Oh, relax, you sound like a Star Wars character.”

“Star Wars? Now who’s the nerd?” Kagami teased.

Chloe sputtered. “Hush, you.”

( Life with Masks - Mystic Messenger OST)

After Chat dropped off the suitcase in his room at the bakery, Adrien embarked on his next mission: Going to the bank and withdrawing enough money to purchase everything else on his list, which included a new SIM card for Chloe’s old (and extremely bedazzled) phone, and a laptop for school.

He made his way to the bank, wearing the hood up on his zip-up hoodie, and pulling it down over his eyes whenever he saw any suspicious looking men in suits.

At the bank, Adrien filled out all the necessary forms, grateful that he’d taken the time to memorize his savings account number years back, when they’d first opened it.

However, today he encountered a different problem.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Agreste,” the bank teller said. “Like I said, I’m afraid that all your assets and accounts have been frozen. You can only withdraw money if your father accompanies you, or if he unlocks them himself.”

Adrien sighed dejectedly. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” she replied. “You would have to speak to your father to have him undo the restrictions. We can’t do anything until then... or until you turn eighteen years old. At that time, you can regain access without needing his permission, since you would officially be an adult.”

Adrien pursed his lips into a thin line. His birthday was still a month away.

All his savings, all the hard-earned money from his modeling work... Gabriel was keeping it all hostage, hoping Adrien would come crawling back to him, like some pitiful prodigal son.

Well, two could play that game. He filled out all the necessary paperwork to reclaim what was his, so everything would be all set up when his birthday came around. He also made sure that Gabriel would be permanently locked out of his accounts at that time.

He thanked the teller and left the bank, feeling morose and surly. He couldn’t even afford to get his used phone working, and was therefore cut off from all communication; save for whatever computers were available at an internet cafe or library. What else could he do?

Maybe Nathalie could help him figure out if there was anything else he could do legally. If he could even get ahold of her. He’d been worried about her while he was recovering at the Dupain-Chengs’; now was his chance to try to contact her.

Adrien walked to the nearest library and convinced the starstruck librarian to let him use their telephone.

The phone rang… and rang… and rang…

So he tried again. And again. And again.

But the same monotone voice repeated the same discouraging phrase:

“The number you have dialed has been disconnected.”

The boy frowned. Was Nathalie alright? He’d left her all alone with his father. He wouldn’t do anything to her, would he?

Mind whirling and chest tight, he sped to the computers to create a new email account (not risking logging into his usual one), and sent her a simple, nondescript message:

“u ok?”

He couldn’t help but remain glued to the computer, clicking and clicking to refresh the page, hoping for something, anything in response. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Crossed his legs. Uncrossed them. Crossed them again. Fiddled with his shoelaces. Opened a new browser tab to distract himself by reading the news, only to switch back every 30 seconds. Minutes ticked by. But still, nothing.

Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t stay in the library forever.

This wasn’t bad news, right? No news oftentimes meant good news. Receiving a reply in such a short amount of time was rather unlikely... Even though Nathalie always replied within five minutes, because she never turned off her email notifications… Ever. But her not replying this time surely didn’t mean anything, right?

Right… It’s fine, everything’s fine. Nathalie’s fine.

She has to be.

Adrien trudged aimlessly down a nondescript sidewalk, lost in thought, his attention eventually drifting back to his livelihood. Could he make do without a single cent for an entire month? Probably not… He’d have to find a job.

But who would hire celebrity Adrien Agreste to work in retail or flip burgers? They’d either laugh at him, or think he was pulling some elaborate prank on a hidden camera show. How would he even begin to explain that he’d left his home and was on the run from his very own father?

Adrien had seemingly no reason why he would choose to run away. He was a privileged young man who had everything: a famous and well-respected family, wealth, good genetics, people at his beck and call… the list went on. To the outside world, Gabriel was a devoted husband and father; a bit of a hermit after his wife’s “disappearance”, but not unusual for someone who was mourning a loved one.

Chloe hadn’t asked him why he’d left, but other people would. Obviously, the truth was out of the question. So, what was there to say instead? That he was just a spoiled rich kid having a rebellious phase?

It was a mess and there didn’t seem to be a way out; he was cornered. He knew it, and he knew that Gabriel knew it.

His only ace in the hole was that Gabriel didn’t know Adrien actually had a place to stay, thanks to the Dupain-Chengs. But he couldn’t rely on them forever. And, as he was quite literally penniless at the moment, his options were severely limited.

He was broke, with a famous identity and an infamous alter-ego, and near impossible to contact since he didn’t have a functioning phone. Things were looking bleak. If only he could–

“AAAACK!!!”

Adrien turned the corner on the sidewalk when a blur of pink and black slammed against him hard. Both bodies clattered to the ground, along with a myriad of bags and boxes the other person was carrying.

Adrien raised his head sluggishly with a small grunt, then opened his eyes to find–

“Marinette??” he said, eyes widening in surprise.

The girl groaned as she lifted her head, slowly pushing herself off of him. One of her eyes cracked open, then both popped wide open in recognition.

“A-ADRIEN!!” she squeaked, her face turning ruby red in an instant. “Gosh, I am so sorry!!” she yelped, practically leaping off of him. “Are you okay?!”

She offered her hand and he took it. “I’m alright, no worries,” he replied, adjusting his glasses, which had shifted on his face when he fell.

He knelt down to help her pick up the items that had spilled out of their containers. “So, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh! I- uh,” she stammered. “I was just getting some things for a friend!”

Adrien took note of some of the books, games, and movie titles as he put them back in their boxes. “Your friend has good taste.”

She squawked out a weird laugh and mumbled in agreement.

As they rose from the pavement, something caught Marinette’s eye. “Oh!” she exclaimed, bending over to pick it up. “Here, you dropped this.” She opened her palm to reveal several Euro bills and coins, and a ticket stub.

He stared at the contents of her hand. “Are you sure these are mine?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, there’s about… maybe a hundred euros or so, and a ticket stub for that new movie, ‘Les Deux Sots’. ” A flash of recognition flickered across her features, and her cheeks flushed. She continued haltingly, “D-do you remember wearing this particular hoodie to the movie theater recently?”

Adrien contained a gasp and mindlessly ran his hands over the fabric, realizing that this was the same hoodie he wore on his date with Ladybug. He hadn’t worn it since then. Not until three days ago: the day of the last akuma attack, and his subsequent fight with Hawkmoth.

“Oh,” he replied quietly, accepting the items. “Thank you, Mari,” he uttered, almost in awe.

She smiled widely at him. “No, thank you for helping me pick up all this stuff I dropped! Sorry again for knocking you over,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it, it was my pleasure. So, where are you going with all this?”

“Uh… Home, actually,” she replied. “My friend is gonna... pick them up later today.” She stepped forward to take the boxes and bags from his arms.

“Can I help you carry it back? It’s a lot of stuff; and you could barely see over the top of it,” he offered.

Marinette fidgeted with her hands, stammering, “O-oh, I mean, I-I wouldn’t want to impose, that is– I’m sure you’re very busy and have important things to do, I don’t want to bother you, and it is a lot of stuff, plus it’s pretty heavy, and–”

“Really, it’s no trouble at all; I’m not busy right now. And I’d love the company.” He added, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh!! A-are you sure?? Wow, you’re amazing! I-I mean, th-that would be amazing! Thank you!” she said, practically vibrating with elation.

“I’m happy to do it!” Adrien replied as they began the trek to the bakery. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other,” he replied with a wink.

Marinette’s head swiveled towards him, looking like she’d swallowed a golf ball, then exploded into a loud giggle-snort, which made him snicker in turn.

The pair walked together, enjoying some friendly, light-hearted conversation, with Marinette becoming more and more comfortable as they went. He was always thankful anytime she was able to relax around him and just be herself.

He dropped her off and they parted with a tight hug, which caused Marinette to let out a flustered squeak. While she wasn’t aware of it, thanks to her discovery, he’d be able to buy himself that prepaid SIM card for Chloe’s old phone and become reachable again. And the first thing he would do with that phone would be to send Marinette a text message, thanking her for everything she continually did for him and their friends, and for always being such a sweet person.

(Somewhere Only We Know- Keane (Max Schneider, Elizabeth Gillies, and Kurt Schneider cover)

Evening came and the city of Paris buzzed with activity, as it was the last weekend of summer vacation. Ladybug breathed in the crisp night air, hopping from roof to roof to rendezvous with her partner. A few blocks away from the Louvre, the quiet, unassuming edifice of the Saint Germain l'Auxerrois stood tall and stoic, as it always did; its stately gothic arches and ancient pillars contrasting with the chaotic energy and noise of its modern surroundings.

Ladybug spotted the distant figure of Chat Noir at the balcony of the church’s bell tower, where they’d agreed to meet. He leaned on the railing, looking content as he observed the scenery.

She nimbly landed beside him and chirped, “Hey, you!”

He turned around, his countenance brightening instantly. “My Lady! It’s so great to see your lovely face again.”

Ladybug’s insides fluttered upon hearing him use her usual nickname, the feeling becoming increasingly familiar the more time she spent with him, both in and out of the costume.

“Um, I brought some snacks from a little shop down the street,” she said, lifting up a small bag to demonstrate.

“Yum! That sounds wonderful, thank you!” Chat reached into his belt pocket, bringing out a small, rectangular box. “And I brought some playing cards!”

“Cool! I love card games! Where’d you get them?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

Chat rubbed the back of his neck and smiled wide, his cheeks becoming rosy; a look that was simply adorable on him. “Marinette gave them to me, actually. She got me some boxes full of really amazing stuff she thought I’d like. And I swear, she’s gotta have magical powers or something, ‘cause they were all totally spot on.” He rubbed his arm absently. “She’s so nice... I can’t believe she went out of her way just to help me feel more at home.”

Ladybug’s cheeks grew warm, feeling almost guilty for hearing him talk about her secret identity in such a favorable way without him knowing. Unsure of how to reply, she wordlessly offered the bag so he could pick out a snack.

“So, how did the cashier react to seeing Ladybug walking into their shop?” he asked, reaching inside. “Was he surprised?”

She chuckled. “I didn’t buy them as Ladybug, silly. I got them as myself. My civilian self, that is.”

“Oh! O-of course,” he replied with an embarrassed smile. “It’s easy to forget you’re not always Ladybug. Th-that is– obviously you’re always Ladybug, b-but not necessarily walking around as Ladybug, it’s just… y-you– uhh…”

She giggled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. We don’t know what the other looks like, so it’s hard to mentally picture anything else.” She placed a finger on her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “I bet that in real life, you’re actually a pirate with a peg leg. A daring, swashbuckling outlaw with a hook for a hand and a secret cave full of gold,” she said jokingly. “Oh! But you like music, right? So, maybe you’re actually a professional violinist. World renowned! Or, since you’re pretty athletic, I bet you’re secretly a circus acrobat! Are you in Cirque du Soleil, by any chance?”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. Then he leaned forward, quirking a flirtatious smile and waggling his eyebrows, and replied, “Obviously, I’m the quick-witted and dashing Han Solo type. Breaking hearts and taking names. People stop in the streets, jaws dropping, and they gape as I walk by, admiring my charms.”

“PFFT!” Ladybug snickered at his clowning and replied, lilting, “Oh, I’m sure. I can see it now.” Her voice went into a falsetto and she swooned, clasping her hands together, “Oh, Monsieur Solo Noir, you are such a handsome rogue! Won’t you whisk me away in your Catmobile into the sunset?”

He gave a small, amused hum. “So... you think I’m handsome, huh?” he asked, turning his body towards her, and straightened up his spine, placing a hand on his hip and cocking it with a smug grin.

Heat exploded throughout the girl’s body, all the blood rushing to her face. Plagg’s words about Chat’s crush suddenly popped to the forefront of her mind, and her thoughts became a jumble.

She stammered, “W-well, I mean, obviously you must already be aware th-that you’re conventionally attractive, b-but I-I, that is, it’s not like I just sit and ogle you like some kind of perv or something, but you’re definitely— y-you’re very– uhhh...” She continued babbling, hands flapping like flags.

Chat couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so adorable when you get all flustered, Buginette. And I really mean that in the best way.”

Ladybug pursed her lips together into a thin line. AUGH, this… this GUY!!! Why did she have to act so foolish around the two blond boys that she’d hung out with today?! She never knew she had a type. But that must be it, right?? That she apparently had a thing for tall, green-eyed blondes? Was that what was going on, or was she actually crushing on Chat Noir while already in love with Adrien? Was that even possible?? Was she simply projecting her desire to be loved onto Chat because she knew he had a crush on her, whereas Adrien did not? That would be unfair to him; he didn’t deserve to be some rebound love. She needed to figure out whether her feelings were genuine, or if she was just being shallow and largely motivated by hormones.

UGH!! Why was everything so incredibly confusing?! Not that it mattered. By this point, they both probably thought she was a giant clod, what with her tendency to constantly make an utter fool of herself.

Thankfully, Chat took pity on her and changed the subject back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. And actually, you were partly right. I am into music. Although I play piano, not violin.” He turned back towards the scenery, leaning on the balcony railing, and asked, “So, how about you? What are you like?”

Settling down from her utter failure at being suave, she replied, sighing, “Well… it’s hard to say. I’m a bit of a hot mess, actually.”

“Pfft, you?? No way! You always seem so on top of everything,” he replied, incredulous. “Although... I definitely believe the ‘hot’ part,” he teased with a wink.

Stifling a squeak, Ladybug’s insides seemed to seize up, and she fought the urge to jump off the belltower to prevent him from noticing her surely crimson-colored face. Attempting to sound aloof, she replied, “You flirt. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Would it upset you if I did?” he asked, voice inscrutable.

Her eyes popped open and she whipped her head around, the heat in her body inexplicably replaced with an uncomfortable chill down her spine. Was she... jealous?! She didn’t have any right to be. She had no claims on him. But knowing that didn’t make the thought of Chat lauding praise and paying special attention to someone else any less unpleasant, and she couldn’t help but feel mad at herself for feeling as such.

“Uh… I’m–” her gaze darted away nervously, trying to figure out what to say without embarrassing herself.

He scooted closer to her, shoulders almost touching, and leaned back on the balcony. He playfully bumped his hip against hers. “No need to be jealous, Bugaboo. Believe it or not, I’m actually kinda shy in real life, and pretty socially awkward; almost painfully so. Any attempts at flirting are clumsy at best, if I ever even bother to try.”

“I-I wasn’t jealous!” she huffed.

Veeerrrrry convincing, Marinette, she thought to herself.

“B-but anyway, I never knew that you were actually shy,” she continued. “You always seemed so confident.” It seemed there was a lot more to discover about her new partner; things she never would have guessed based on his demeanor, back when they were enemies.

Chat shifted the topic away from himself and began shuffling the cards as he sat on the floor. “So, before I interrupted you with my lame attempt at flirting, you were gonna talk about yourself. What do you do when you’re not Ladybug-ing and saving Paris from corrupted butterflies?”

Ladybug giggled and joined him on the floor as he dealt the cards. “Well, I enjoy making crafts, especially designing and making clothes. I’m great at baking. I love scrapbooking and journals. My favorite subject in school is art...”

A few hours, several games, and countless laughs later, the pair reluctantly agreed that it was time to part ways.

“Thanks for meeting up with me tonight, Ladybug,” Chat said, voice a bit quiet. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time, so it really means a lot,” he added, timidly rubbing the back of his neck.

Ladybug’s stomach did a tiny flip. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy that he’d enjoyed himself because of her, or if she was sad because he’d hardly ever been allowed to have fun.

She shifted her weight, twiddling her fingers and replied, “I had a lot of fun too, Chat. I’m really glad we did this. We should turn it into a regular thing.”

He replied, voice husky, “I’d love that.” A shade of pink spread across his face, and he cleared his throat. He abruptly straightened up and sauntered towards her, wearing a smirk. “Soooo… can I walk you home?” he asked playfully. “I do want to be a gentleman for My Lady, after all.”

Ladybug snorted and lightly shoved his shoulder. “Nice try, Chaton. But a Lady’s gotta have her secrets.”

Before he could reply, Ladybug’s communicator beeped urgently with a notification, which could only mean one thing:

An akuma attack.

Ladybug sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “Welp… looks like our time together just got an extension.” She winked at Chat and asked, “Ready to go kick some akuma butt?”

He smiled, his hand reaching for hers and giving it a tight squeeze. “With pleasure.”

[void-knights]

Babysitting

Square Filled: Morgan Stark Pairing: None Tags: Babysitting, Baking, Fluff, Dress Up, Summary: Pepper and Tony need to go to a meeting, Loki is the only person they can call upon to babysit Morgan. Word Count: 2784 Written/Created for @lokibingo

AO3 Link

He hadn’t been either Pepper or Tony’s first choice, but given the fact that the other avengers were either already tied up on assignments, unreachable or unsuitable to babysit that left the pair with two options.

Thor, the god who was lounging about eating junk food and watching comedies after spending the morning training. Or Loki. Pepper choose Loki, at least he managed to wear pants that weren’t covered in some sort of dip and crumbs.

Morgan Stark looked up at Loki bemused, she might only be young, but she could clearly see this was way out of Loki’s comfort zone. Nobody left their offspring with him, occasionally he had saved children as he was now a hero and avenger. But nobody said “here you go Loki,” and then proceeded to go off to some sort of business meeting.

“Why do your parents not simply hire a professional to look after you?” Loki asked the young girl who shrugged. How was she supposed to know?

“I’m bored,” she announced like that was Loki’s problem, the god blinked at her, “You’re supposed to look afta me.”

Loki having no experience when it came to Midgardian childcare differed to the child he was looking after, “So how do you suppose we remedy that?” he asked her, as smart as she was she found Loki’s mannerisms weird, he picked up on her confusion, “What do you usually do?” he corrected.

The young girl grinned, he had no idea! She could say anything, and he would probably do it, that’s what happened with the last babysitter and then there had been an explosion, “Daddy lets me play science with Dum-E!”

As amusing as it was to be lied to by a five-year-old Loki feared the percussions of letting Dum-E out of the labs, “Did your parents not inform you that I  am the god of lies?”

“My dad says you have a stick up your butt and pretty eyes!” Morgan just blurted out as children tended to do. Loki saved that little piece of information for later, “So you always lie?” The girl asked.

“No, I am the god of lies, it is my sphere of influence, as thunder and lightning is my brothers,” Loki explained as simply as he could.

“Okay!” Morgan smiled taking hold of Loki’s hand which surprised the god, apparently she was a very tactile child, “Lets eat chocolate cake!”

“We do not have a chocolate-”

“-Lets make one!” Morgan tugged on his arm, but she could not move him like other people, “You’re strong,” she pointed out as though he were not aware of that fact. She tugged again, and he followed, not sure if this would be a good idea.

FRIDAY was the first to point out that this was in fact a terrible idea, but Loki silence the AI’s concerns as he searched Morgan’s tablet for the perfect chocolate recipe. The extreme chocolate cake recipe seemed promising, though Loki detected an eye roll from the surrounding AI.

Loki’s first problem was the fact that the recipe called for cup as a measurement, “Who uses cups for measurement?” he asked the girl who had asked to be dressed in a lab coat (one Loki himself crafted with a simple spell) and goggles, because safety! “That is not accurate, all cups are different sizes!”

The AI of course provided the answers, Loki wrote down her conversions, “It sounds like an overly complicated way to measure ingredients, why not simply use weight as a measurement?” Loki demanded to know.

“Because it’s easier?” Morgan asked.

“Quicker certainly but not easier,” Loki groused after measuring out every ingredient they would need, he needed to keep Morgan from sticking her fingers in the sugar and licking it.

“So we must first pre-heat the oven,” Loki read out loud and walked over to said oven.

“NOOO!” Morgan squealed pulling on his black and green cacti print apron, she shoved a pair of gloves into his hands, “You need ta wear gloves, the oven is hot!”

“The outside of the oven is not hot,” Loki protested, but Morgan stood her ground, stubborn like her mother she refused to move until Loki put on the gloves. Rather inconvenient, but he did not want to cause her to have a meltdown. “Happy?” he asked her showing her his gloved hands.

“Yep!” She nodded and proceeded to get out of his way, that was the oven taken care of. He discarded the gloves and handed Morgan a pan to grease while he greased the other.

As Loki placed the ingredients into a bowl Morgan stirred, she was overly careful making sure to keep everything inside the bowl. It helped that Loki discretely used his magic to actually keep everything inside the bowl while the child stirred haphazardly.

It was like watching a miniature Stark working in a lab, her tongue stuck out as she concentrated her brows furrowed and her attention was all but consumed by mixing ingredients. She didn’t even notice Thor come into the kitchen to grab food and leave, miffed that she had not even noticed him. She had one job, and she was going to do it to the best of her ability.

“I think that is enough,” Loki assured her, pulling away the bowl he stirred in the bowling water making sure everything as it should be. Well he used magic to stir the bowl, much to Morgan’s fascination.

“How do you do that?” she asked him.

“Magic,” Loki said creating a small ball of green light and tossing it into the air where it exploded, of course a Stark would applaud an explosion!

“Soooo, could you like turn the chocolate a different colour with magic?” Morgan asked her tone suggested mischief, her intentions suggested mischief but for the life of him Loki could not understand what was so mischievous about changing the colour of chocolate.

Chocolate on Midgard (the only place in the nine realms that produced the stuff) came in various colours already, so why should this request illicit mischief in the girl? Was he starting to lose his grasp on the basics of mischief? Surely not?

“And why would we want to do that?” Loki asked her curiosity weighing heavy on him.

 Morgan beamed, “Mommy says that when things are weird colours people don’t like to eat them. So if we make our chocolate cake a weird colour nobody else will eat it!”

A child’s logic, but surprisingly it made a lot of sense.

Natasha had once bought black ice cream (enough for everyone) and nobody had eaten it save Natasha. It had been an overly hot summers day, everyone craved ice cream but  that ice cream had not appealed to anyone.

“What colour do you suggest?” He asked.

“All the colours,” Morgan whispered heavily excited by the prospect.

“Well that would be impossible, there are colours that even a gods eye could not detect given the limited biological-” Morgan scrunched up her face she was lost.

“Like a mantis shrimp? They got more eyes but can’t see as many colours!” Morgan said Loki did not know what a mantis shrimp was, could one eat one? He did like shrimp. “What next?” she asked.

“Now we must make the frosting,” Loki read carefully, while the cakes cooked in the ovens.

Staring at the frosting Loki wondered whether he could actually change the colour using magic, Morgan sidled up to him curious to see if he could actually do what he claimed.

“What colour would you like?” he asked her.

She thought about it then obviously said, “Red and gold!” because of course she did.

It took an obscene amount of work and concentration to shift the colour, while he worked he failed to notice Morgan sticking stickers to his back. His entire back was covered in various brightly coloured animal stickers by the time he managed to shift the colours of the frosting.

One bowl contained gold frosting that resembled gold leaf and the red of the iron-man armour.

It was time to take the pans out of the oven, Morgan was stood there holding up the oven gloves expectantly. She had that look her mother used when she used to corral people into doing whatever she wanted.

It worked, Loki slipped the gloves on to take out the pans, leaving them on the side to cool he returned to Morgan. “It says to wait twenty minutes,” She pointed out, since a comment on the recipe called for an additional ten minutes, it was to be a moist cake it needed the additional time otherwise it would fall apart when removing it from the pan.

“That’s sooo long,” Morgan complained.

“Well what would you like to do in the meantime?” he asked her.

The girl thought about it, what could she do in twenty minutes? She studied Loki then broke out into a grin, “Makeovers!” she said. He didn’t understand until she broke out the large plastic box of cosmetics.

 “No,” He warned her.

“Please,” her lower lip wobbled which for reasons he could not explain broke down his defences.

Morgan Stark might be a budding genius when it came to the sciences, but she was not good at makeup, which came as no surprise given her young age. She used chalk to colour his hair, used powders to colour his face and all he could think as she tried to paint his nails (black because it would match his tunic) was what they would say in Asgard if they could see him now.

That was until Morgan smiled at him, “You’re not so bad Loki!” she said in that overly friendly tone that mirrored her father.

“You thought I was bad?” He asked her, she blinked up at him confused, before returning to her rather messy painting job.

“Grumpy,” She said, “You frown a lot,” she continued accidentally brushing black nail polish over his finger.

“I’m a frowny sort of person,” he said.

“Yep,” She nodded, “Ta-Da!” she said, not the best paint job but it was reasonably okay for a little girl.

“Not bad,” he complimented using magic to dry his fingers before removing the excess polish.

“Mine now!” She said holding up purple sparkly nail polish for him to use, yes he could imagine the ridicule he would face if this were Asgard. But this was not Asgard, she smiled as he painted her nails, drying them with magic she beamed at him, “Thank you!”

“You are welcome,” Loki patted her on top of the head, this for some reason greatly pleased the girl who was very used too much better forms of praise, affections and platitudes, “Now to decorate our cake.”

“Yes!” Morgan giggled.

It had all gone so well, it started off with the pair of them watching a video on how to ice a cake and make it look halfway decent. Both Morgan and Loki looked at their own cake and then back at the video, then back at their attempts at icing.

“What matters is how it tastes,” Loki said.

Morgan however said, “It looks like runny poo!” and how did she know that and what was he supposed to say to that?

“Nonsense,” Loki said cutting a slice for himself and the girl, the cake  did taste good but the longer he looked at the cake the more he could see what Morgan meant. It was rather off-putting.

“Now what?” Morgan asked with cake smeared all across her mouth and face.

“You’ll have to wash your face,” he said she ran away, “ Really! ?”

To his surprise Morgan was quite a slippery child, she managed to use their sizes to her advantage. The biggest surprise came when the kid slid along the floor between his legs and out into the garden. What had gotten into her? She was usually so calm and well-behaved.

He chased her out into the garden, where using his shapeshifting abilities he managed to catch her and drag her back inside. Now she was covered in grass, mud  and chocolate.

“What has gotten into you child?” He asked her.

FRIDAY was the one to answer, “You have fed a child inordinate amount of sugar, she is currently experiencing a sugar high.”

“Why are you humans so complicated?” Loki hissed as he held the squirming girl at arms length. “Now you will need to bathe yourself and change your clothes.”

“Nuh uh!” Morgan violently shook her head, “Dad says you don’t need to bath until you smell, I don’t smell!”

“Your dad also says it’s okay to eat two day old pizza, it is not,” Loki pointed out.

“I saw you eat two day old pizza as well!” Morgan said.

“Don’t lie,” she wasn’t, but he wouldn’t have her defaming him. The little girl however giggled at him, children in Asgard would never laugh at him like this.

“More cake?” she asked.

“No bath and change of clothes,” Loki argued.

Morgan stuck her tongue out at him and was surprised when he mirrored her expression, the pair of them childishly stuck in a series of stupid expressions and taunts. He would not loose to a child!

*****

Pepper returned worried, FRIDAY had assured her that everything was fine and Loki was managing surprisingly well. But Pepper tended to worry whenever she had to spend too much time away from her daughter.

Tony had just a smidgeon more faith in Loki, mostly he was exhausted and eager to go home and curl up with his family. It was less that he had faith in Loki and more that he trusted FRIDAY to alert them should the worst come to the worst.

“…So then Thor ran into the hall, a goat under one arm, the second chasing him and said ‘I found the key!’ his goats had eaten it!” Loki finished her story causing Morgan to fall backwards giggling.

Well that was a story Tony wanted to hear! The bigger question tough was why was Loki (as a woman) wearing Elsa’s dress complete with sparkly ice bits? Why was Morgan dressed up in a miniature suit that resembled one of Tony’s and was that a fake goatee?

“Do we want to know?” Tony asked them.

“Yes, but we’re not gonna tell ya!” Morgan giggled running over to her parents and hugging them.

“Did you have fun?” Pepper asked hoisting the young girl up into her arms.

“Yep!” Morgan smiled, “We made you a cake, then we ate it, we made pasta! Loki can cook did ya know?”

“No,” Both Tony and Pepper said utterly surprised.

“We painted our nails, mine are purple, Loki’s are black,” Morgan showed her mother her nails, then her dad.

“Very pretty,” Tony grinned, Morgan nodded, of course they were! Pepper handed Morgan over to her father, who balanced her on his hip, soon she would be too big for this. He savoured every moment he could get.

“Then we played games, we ate more food and Thor even played with us,” Morgan continued without missing a beat.

“And where is Thor now?” Pepper asked a little worried but more amused by everything she was seeing or not seeing. Shockingly the entire compound was clean, tidy, nothing seemed out of place. It was hardly like this especially when the avengers were home.

“He’s tied up outside, he’s a grumpy storm cloud and I had to save princess Loki, DUH!” Morgan explained joyfully.

“Duh,” Loki reiterated while rising to her feet, “Morgan is a fine hero,”

“I saved a princess!” Morgan nodded quite seriously.

“Sooo… we should untie Thor?” Pepper asked wondering how they had managed to tie up Thor.

“He’ll break free eventually no need to worry,” Loki waved off without a care, completely trusting either Bucky’s goats to recognize the god and chew through the ropes or for Thor to get bored and break through the enchantment.

“Well… thank you, Loki,” Pepper smiled at him grateful that he had done such a fantastic job, at least if Morgan was to believed as she continued to praise the god to her father, “If we’d known you’d be such a great babysitter I’d have asked sooner.”

“I’ve had centuries of practice,” Loki smiled.

Morgan hopped out of her fathers arms and ran over to the god tossing her arms around his waist she squeezed him into a hug, “Thank you, Loki!” she grinned at him, much to the surprise of her parents. The pair had never really interacted before so seeing this was good, it was nice, it reassured their parental worries.

“Yes, you are most welcome,” he said patting her head, “It was a pleasure,” and to his surprise he had meant it.

[brbaabs]

The Dornish Bird - Chapter 4

Hey guys! I’m so sorry I missed the last update. I’ve been soooo busy these two weeks, I barely had time to touch my phone. College is killing me mercilessly. I’m sorry I couldn't answer your comments but I assure you, I read all of them and loved your kind words. Thank you so much for being here, it means a lot to me to have such amazing people enjoying my work.

Before you read this chapter, I have some things to say. We had Bran’s fall in the last part, so I’m sure you know we’ll have dark themes from now on. That leads to a question I’ve been dying to ask: Do you guys mind a little smut here and there? I mean, I guess we all know GOT. I’m quite used to so see naked bodies by now, but I know some people might not like it. Though my sex scenes are always delicate, respectful and important to the plot, I’d like to know if you’re okay with it. Please, share your opinion on the comments of this chapter.

Anyway, the song I chose today kinda matches the first season’s mood in my opinion. I hope you like it just as much as I do, this song is simply magical.

Word count: 2.445

Eddard Stark waited for his eldest son in his private study.

He had his wife’s triumphant smile still fresh in his head, reminding him of the decision they both agreed to make. He was somewhat happy with their agreement, choosing his first born's wife was something he'd always considered a difficult task. His own wedding wasn't appealing to him at the beginning. Ned was happy to choose a girl that he and his wife could trust their son and their house.

(Y/n) surely wasn't the first option. She did not belong to a house, would not inherit any properties or soldiers. She was not even born in the north, his general would be mortified with the idea of having a Dornish woman ahead of House Stark. Ned esteemed the girl, he truly did. But he needed to weigh all these details before making a big decision like that. He could marry (Y/n) and Jon without hesitating, but Robb's future bride was a totally different case.

However Catelyn was skilled in argumentation, and her point was too solid to hold any defect.

'I was an outsider as well, do you have any regrets about how it ended up for us?' She stated.

Eddard could not deny his wife's cleverness. Her argument put an end in the discussion. It was settled, Robb would wed her protegé.

The Warden was still lost in his thoughts when Robb entered the study with Theon by his side. The two lads were sparring for the previous hour, sweat was still present in Robb's forehead. Theon has mud is his pants, indicating his loss. He was a good fighter, but Robb was just excellent in the sword art. 

"Do you wish to speak to me, father?" Robb said.

Ned examined his son's expression for a second. Both boys seemed to be in a good mood. Theon still had a little smile on his lips because of a pun Robb had made in their way to Ned's study, and Robb looked relaxed. In his mind, Ned wondered how long that good mood would last.

"It's a serious matter, so I suggest you take a seat." He said.

Robb's face immediately showed his concern. He shared a look with his friend. Theon looked puzzled but nodded almost imperceptibly to indicate his curiosity. Out of choice, Robb took a seat in front of his father, and the Greyjoy stood behind him as always.

"What is it, father?" The Young Wolf asked.

Satisfied with his son's compliance, Ned took a deep breath. 'This won't be so hard.' He thought. Robb was a good kid, he never disobeyed his father. If it were Arya in Robb's shoes, Lord Stark would have a huge problem in his hands.

"Your mother and I have been discussing a really important matter since your eleventh name day, but only recently we've found a solution." Eddard spoke with determination in his tone. "Catelyn suggested a bride to you, and I accepted. You're going to marry (Y/n)."

Robb's eyes widened with Ned's statement.

The young man searched for a sign of humor in his father's words since that information seemed too good to be true. His whole life was filled with worry about his future wife. He knew it would be his parent's duty to choose a bride for him, and yet he feared for their choice. The chances of Eddard ending up choosing an attractive woman was minimal, considering Catelyn's looks. Robb loved his mother with all his heart, but he couldn't say she was the prettiest woman he'd seen in his life. The possibility of ending up with an unattractive woman by his side for the rest of his life wasn't appealing in any circumstance. He was aware of the stupidity of his concern, but he feared it anyway.

But (Y/n) was gorgeous, he couldn't be more fortunate!

"I am not quite sure if I get it, father." Robb said, still not believing in what his ears had heard. "I am not complaining, but (Y/n) is my friend. And she is not a noblewoman, is it truly the best match?"

While Robb felt his heart beating fast in his chest because of his excitement, Theon's heartbeat was increased for a very different reason. The Greyjoy lad could not believe in what Ned had said.

In Theon's mind, Eddard would never consider marrying his firstborn with the Dornish girl. How could he? She was a commoner, for The Drowned God's sake. She was Catelyn's protegé as Theon was Ned's. If anyone should take (Y/n) as his wife, it should be Theon.

That was the Greyjoy's theory, at least.

"Catelyn has been shaping her into a proper Lady for over a year, she will be a fine suitor when the wedding time comes. Until then, she will come to King's Landing with me and your sisters." Eddard answered.

"How long will (Y/n) be away from Winterfell?" Robb asked.

'How long will (Y/n) be away from me?' He wondered.

"Only three years, I believe." Ned said. "She will be Sansa's handmaiden until she comes to age to marry. You will be in charge of Winterfell with your mother while (Y/n) is away. I believe you understand what is going to happen once she returns."

'He will be able to bed her.' Theon thought.

Robb took a deep breath, trying to process all that information. He would be married in three years, with a girl he had always seen as a dear friend. It was difficult to believe in his fate. They would be separated in the meantime. How would (Y/n) look when she comes back? Would their friendship still be the same?

When Robb pictured (Y/n)'s smiling face, he felt his heart calming down. He fancied her, that was a fact. No matter what his mind would say, his heart desired her. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to touch her warm skin, to see her pleasured face as he claimed her body. At that point, the lad could not think about any other thing.

He wanted her.

"I accept, father." He said, raising his head to look into his father's eyes. "I will marry her."

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

(Y/n) was not sure about what she should feel.

Catelyn never forbade her from walking in Godswood. The girl loved to spend a little time by herself, with her only company being the small creatures that lived in the forest. She would always dive her hand in the lake, gather small stones to throw at Theon's back when he wasn't looking or just sit by the trees to observe the birds in their nests. That was her favorite time of the day.

But today, her lady asked her to stay in their house for the day. (Y/n) was confused at the beginning, but Catelyn said she had some matters to discuss with the Dornish girl. (Y/n) was not in place to object. Such request led to the current situation.

Lady Catelyn was leading (Y/n) towards the maester study. The girl had no idea why her lady would want to take her there, but she followed the woman without saying a word. Perhaps Maester Luwin had something to discuss with her, she would find out soon.

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" The girl asked.

Catelyn smiled. She was eager to tell the news to her dear protegé. The Lady of Winterfell was aware of how curious (Y/n) could be when someone was preparing a surprise for her. Right now, the girl's frow was evident. Catelyn was having so much fun.

"Be patient, girl." She answered. "You'll know soon enough. Now be careful with the steps."

(Y/n) pouted, but decided to keep her curiosity to herself. At least for the time being.

"Yes, My Lady." The girl said.

Catelyn could feel the confusion in (Y/n)'s voice. She smirked, enjoying the moment far more than she should. The pair walked for three minutes more, then arrived at their destination. The woman knocked on the door twice, attempting to conceal her excitement. She felt (Y/n) standing behind her. The girl still had that pout on her reddish lips, too curious to hide it. Catelyn chuckled, amused by the girl's mood.

After a few seconds, the door was opened by the faithfull maester of Winterfell. That made (Y/n) smile a little, forgetting her worries for a moment. She absolutely loved the old man. 

"Do you have my order, maester?" Catelyn asked.

The old man smiled at his lady with respect and amusement.

"I have, my Lady." He said. "Do you want me to bring it here?"

"If you would be so kind, yes." The woman said.

(Y/n)'s eyes flashed with curiosity. She bit her lip while the maester disappeared into his study, leaving the girl in the company of her lady. She looked at Catelyn, the woman smiled warmly at her.

"How much do you know of birds?" Catelyn asked.

Her question puzzled the girl even more. She blinked once, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"Not a lot, I fear." She said honestly.

Catelyn chuckled.

"And they call you 'The Dornish Bird', aren't you supposed to know about your kind?" She said.

(Y/n) pouted again, making the older woman laugh wholeheartedly. She reached out to the girl's head and caressed her soft hair as she would do to her youngest sons, but stopped after a short moment. That girl would be her daughter in law soon, Catelyn shouldn't treat her like a child anymore. The woman sighed happily. She would have to find another way of showing her affection towards her sweet bard.

At that moment, the maester returned to where the two women waited. (Y/n) noticed a big steel cage in his hand.

"Here, My Lady." The maester said.

He held the cage a little higher, revealing a beautiful creature resting peacefully on the inside. (Y/n) gasped, amazed by the regal-looking animal.

"Is this an eagle, maester?" She asked.

The old man chuckled at her mistake, while Lady Catelyn sighed. That girl wasn't lying when she said she knew nothing about birds.

"It's a Snowy Owl, my dear." Luwin said.

"Oh."

(Y/n) blushed under the wise man's gaze. She never had much knowledge about flying creatures. The girl knew how to cook them, though. That experience she acquired from her days on the road. Sometimes, her father couldn't find an inn, and they had to sleep somewhere in the forest. The dinner would be a delicious animal her father hunted with his old bow. She missed those days.

"A Snowy Owl, then." The girl mumbled. "She is gorgeous."

"It's a male owl, (Y/n)." Luwin corrected, earning himself a light snort from the girl. "It was trained as a crow to deliver messages.  The only difference, though, is the hunting talents these creatures have, and it's intelligence. They can follow orders and obey their master."

"So it is like an eagle." (Y/n) whispered to herself, being heard only by her lady.

Catelyn sighed and shook her head. 'This girl can be impossible sometimes.' She thought.

"You can let It hunt twice a day." Luwin said. "Speak to It regularly so It can be familiar with your voice. Don't try to pet it. This one is quite short-tempered."

"Sounds like it's a match then." Catelyn said, smiling to the man. "Thank you, maester. They will be very happy together."

She took the cage from Luwin's hand with a little difficulty, since the weight of the object was more than she anticipated. Without hesitation, the woman shoved the bird and its cage into (Y/n)'s arms. The girl gasped, surprised by the sudden motion.

"Congratulations, girl. You have an owl." The lady stated.

The girl blinked, shocked. She examined the bird in her hands carefully, only to realize she was being watched by its huge yellow eyes. Its gaze was heavy like it could see her soul. The girl shivered under that gaze.

"I'm honored, Lady Stark." She panted. "But I don't think I need an owl. Who would I send a message to?"

Catelyn remained silent for a moment. She looked deep into the girl's eyes. That shiny (E/c) eyes reminded her of the day she met the girl. She remembered how much the girl had grown under her protection. (y/n) evolved her skills and learned new things while living with the Stark family. She had changed so much since then. From that humble young girl to a fearless woman. That's what she has become: A true woman. At that moment, Catelyn knew she had made the right choice. 

Without a warning, the Lady of Winterfell took the cage from (Y/n)'s hands and put it aside. Confused, the girl frowned but had no time to think about it. Catelyn opened her slender arms and locked her protegé in a warm embrace. (Y/n) gasped, surprised for the sudden display of affection.

The girl was used to hug the Stark children all the time, especially the younger ones. She even considered hugging Theon, but only when she had too much wine in her blood. But never the Lords of Winterfell. She was taught to respect them, to admire them as her leaders. As much as she loved them, she knew physical contact could be considered a tremendous disrespect. That was a delicate line she could not cross.

And yet, in the comfort of her lady's embrace, she felt safe.

"I need you to be strong, girl." Catelyn softly spoke. "I will trust you with the things I love more in this world. I need you to take care of my girls and to watch over my husband. Care for them as they were part of your family since you're already part of ours. I'll not send away only two, but three daughters."

The world seemed to crumble under (Y/n)'s feet. As much as she wanted to conceal her uneasiness, her worry was too strong to hide. She understood her Lady's words far too well. That wasn't a strict order, but a genuine plea. A heartfelt farewell from a mother's core.

With those heavy words and a duty recently put upon her shoulders, (Y/n) knew she wasn't a girl anymore. She was now responsible for her Lady's family. She needed to be stronger, wiser. It was time to put her childish heart at bay and cast her fears aside to reborn into something new. She wasn't the Dornish Bird anymore. 

She was a woman.

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

That’s it for today, thanks for reading!  Reblog to help me, leave a comment if you liked this chapter.

Tag List: @evilunicorns4minions, @black-widow-fangirl, @aristocracy-y, @aspiring-fangirls-world, @thedeacywaltz, @riddlersriddlet, @nialeesato, @peachyblinderss

I hope I’m not forgetting anyone.  If you wish to be tagged as well, please tell me. Thank you all!

~ See ya!

[periperimommy79-blog]

Don't give up

This is my first scribble - knowing me it'll be a novel sized scribble, apologies -, and it will be about my breastfeeding journey in the UK.

Nothing I write should be considered medical or professional advice, it is only my personal experience and loads - no, really, LOADS - of researching the internet (even translating Spanish, Italian, French and German articles - thanks Google). And of course my final conclusion on the matter. Which is: do not panic or stress, relax and it will fall into place. Emotions are more important than I believed before. Mind over matter? Sure. But heart and soul over mind. Always. So do not despair as it will hold you back.

My journey began in May 2013 when I've truly understood love, holding my baby girl for the first time❤. I was set on breastfeeding and never gave it a second thought. I believed it was the natural way, so formula feeding was a choice for those who did not WANT to breastfeed.

5 days after her arrival we were back in hospital as my little angel lost over 16% of her birthweight. When we talking of a 6.8 lb baby that is a lot.

She wasn't getting fed enough, probably was getting some as she managed to stay hydrated... just above the ouchy line, but not enough to sustain her weight.

So we were told to supplement after offering the breast. She needed to get stronger to be able to suck properly, as feeding on the breast takes a lot of energy, especially if the reward is near nothing.

I was devastated. It felt like I've failed my baby. I kept beating myself up for starving my child. Up till today when I look at her early pictures my heart goes out to that baby with so much pain and sadness in her tiny eyes. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not pressing harder when my instinct told me something was wrong after 2 days. As a new mum I was not given credit by the seasoned professionals visiting us every day for 5 days when I said she sleeps too much, she doesn't eat only goes on for a few sucks then falls asleep. Her latch was checked and seemed good, so I was labelled a worrier. Until the day 5 weight check when our world collapsed.

Not for a moment did I want her to starve any longer but I also wanted her to get breast milk. So I've followed professional advice. Increased and increased then increaed the formula again and kept offering the breast before each feed. Also followed the set time for feeding, every 3 then 4 hours, and so on as she grew.

Tried expressing after feeds as well, but it was a disaster and disheartened me even further. The lack of milk when expressing made me accept that I am one of those women who just can't produce milk. It happens. It's not my fault. It's just how it is. I gave exclusive breast feeding my best shot and by offering the breast until she was 6 months old I did give her the "best of both worlds".

5 years down the line I can see where I went wrong. In November 2018 my little man arrived. He was a surprise: we were trying for nearly 5 years with no luck, then decided it isn't happening for us, sold all baby and toddler stuff. Was about to sell the nursery furniture when we found out about him 😊 everything else had to be bought again 🙈

What did I do different?

1. With my girl we had help, honest help, but untrained and unexperienced help from lovely people. If you want to breastfeed and it's not working, having professional help is important. Finding the right one is key. With our son we had picked up on the "not enough milk" on day 3. Again, started formula topups. We were upping it to 30ml each feed and he wa gaining well so we stopped the topups. Then weighed him 3 days after. He lost weight again. Back to formula. Gaining again, decrease formula. Baby lost weight again. Hospital as his weight is up and down. We know why but go in anyway. So luckily we went. And met 3 amazing and experienced feeding specialists.

Turns out if you look at an already latched baby feeding you will not be able to establish if the latch is good or not. You'll need a feed observed from start to finish to tell. He wasn't latching properly. So with help and instructions he was latching fine after 5 hours of trying. He fed with big gulps for 10 minutes on each breast then followed with lots of sucks and fewer swallows on each. We were in there for 2 days, BF, express, topup. I felt more sure of myself when we left and very greatful for "my 3 angels" and their knowledge.

2. Have support. With my girl I had the understanding and backing of our family - I was shaken of what happened and feeling an utter failure. But I was not pressing breastfeeding, scared of her losing weight again I accepted formula as the only way.

With my boy I decided I will not give up as I did with my girl. Unfortunately my partner and our family did not believe I can breastfeed and my partner was very agressivly against it - being told I'm selfish for trying to breastfeed, that I rather starve him than accept that I will never have milk and the best one: he'll call social services if I don't give up the idea of not giving him formula - not the support I needed.

His whole family gave me the cold stare for carrying on and even my own mother said just give him the bottle and spend the time gained with my daughter. Emotional pressure...hmmm, mother knows best. Good thing I'm now a mother too, so took the tiny gold out of this comment and spoke to my girly, explaining what and why is mommy doing what she's doing. I swear that little girl is more supportive than some of the adults close to me.

So I ignored all negativity, got courage from 3 of my friends and told my other half if he can't be supportive then at least keep his mouth shut and stay away from me as stress has serious negative effects on my supply. He stayed away and kept his mouth shut and I've carried on. It was hard times. To carry on and not give in. Even harder that the people I expected to back me had turned their back.

So surround yourself with people who raise your spirits, who will assure you and make you believe that you can do it. Ignore the nay sayers. It is your baby and body, as long as you're both safe you call the shots and do what feels right.

3. Research. Knowledge is power. Gather as much info, as many tips and methods as possible. Watch videos, read, go on forums and ask questions. Find groups. Shape all info so it fits the two of you.

With my daughter I just accepted what I was told by the professionals in the hospital and after we left it. I did not know of other moms who struggled but succeeded. I did not know there are ways to try to increase milk supply. I did not know I was breaking the demand and supply ring by increasing formula and not boobie time.

With my boy I was constantly reading, watching, getting in touch.

What worked for us? These:

1. Did not follow rules of timed feeding.

Yes, I've kept to the 3 hrs with him, but only that I didn't let him go longer than 3 hrs between feeds. Not even at night. Not until he was gaining weight well. If he wanted to eat 30 minutes after he came off the breast then I've put him back on.

Ever heard of supply and demand? SOOOO TRUE! When your baby is sucking for 3-5 hours non stop (cluster feeding)? Or eating for 1 hr then 40 minutes break and another hour session aaaand repeat? They just ordering their meals ahead. Telling your body they need more. Let them.

When we were topping up with over 30ml formula, I did it in smaller portions during his cluster feeding periods which were always evening meals - 60ml topup: 2x30ml or 3x20ml and put him back on the boob in between. It is time consuming, but works. Sometimes he refused the last portion cuz he was too tired/full. If it was only one meal, I let him skip that formula amount.

2. I started expressing only after his last feed before his big sleep each night. It saves time during the day and I can sleep more during the night. It is app. the same time each day, so my body is expecting it.

Now I can get 3x as much out as what I've staryed with. He drinks this still as a topup after his last meal of the day the next evening. Past few days he doesn't even drink it all and it makes me happy! They're hungrier in the evenings - getting filled up for longer time to sleep - and if he refuses his favourite meal with the easy access (he prefers breast milk over formula, but prefers the bottle to the breast as it is easier) must mean he had enough already 😀.

3. I had looked at pictures of how my breast is built up, where he needs to press to get the milk going.

I finally understood that I did have milk, even with my daughter - she kept sucking for 6 months and never took more than 90ml of formula, looking back I was such a fool not to realise that she wouldn't have gained weight as well as she did on 360ml of formula a day - they just could not get to it efficiently.

Once I worked out where his mouth needs to be on my aerola I looked for ways to put it in. It sounds funny, but my aerola is rather large and his cute mouth is so little, so he needed help to "stuff it in". Now he doesn't need it as he learnt to do it himself as well as his mouth is a bit bigger.

4. Made myself realise, understand and trust that I have enough milk for my baby and stop worrying over it.

I looked for proof and reminded myself every time I started to doubt myself again (maybe because a look from other half, or baba wanting to eat and eat - not because I did not have enough now but because he will need more soon so he is ordering) that I have milk. So when he was gaining on 420ml formula a day until he was 7 weeks old I convinced myself and reduced the amount to 360ml. Then 300ml. Always checked his gain. Now we're 180ml a day and reducing. And he is gaining.

It was hard not to increase formula as suggested by some people, but I knew he is safely gaining and worse case senario he will not gain enough, but he will not lose weight again, even if my supply decreases or can't keep up with his demand.

5. Stopped timing our feeds. I take note of the bottles still - will do until they're out of the picture -, but not of how long he is on each breasts. It is not important. I'll put him on when he asks. And because he is gaining he will ask when he is hungry because he has the energy to let me know. He will now not sleep if he's hungry no matter what I do. Dare to go shopping too long and the roof comes down!

This way feeding feels natural, not a must do thing which commands my day and full attention. I even enjoy it now, that I relax. No clocking in and out 😊 honestly? This is one of the best feelings other than seeing the numbers go up on the scale and down in the bottle.

Do not get me wrong. I have nothing against formula, we're lucky that is available. I do not judge anyone who chose to formula feed their LO. Mixed feeding has it's advantages as well. Not the way I am doing it now, but when you replace meals with a bottle to gain some time off boob duty.

But to me exclusive breastfeeding is the end game, so at mo formula is an unwanted must.

I will stop here for now, my eyelids are getting glued at each blink.

[maximuswolf]

Do your parents try and change the subject when they run out of arguments too? via /r/atheism

Do your parents try and change the subject when they run out of arguments too?

Fair Warning: MRA (Mild Rant Ahead)

I'm an atheist since like 2016, when some things that happened in my life made me realize I'm an atheist.

Coming out and getting my parents to accept that I wasn't going to church was a BIG issue, but that's a story best left for another time.

Today, in my (catholic) school they were offering the confirmation for high school students.

This was via zoom, and I was with my camera off, which is important, as my mom passed by my desk, and saw that I was ignoring the lecture and playing on my phone, because frankly, it didn't interest me in the slightest.

My mom talked (calmly) with me about it, and I told her my points for not wanting to do anything with it, which can be summarized in:

1.- Risk of Covid: The classes would be in person, with 8 students per group. Given that some of them are irresponsible and actively partying, the risk of COVID from them is high.

2.- Monetary waste: Given that I would learn nothing from it, paying the fee for entering seems wasteful.

3.- Lack of interest: I would basically do and learn nothing, as I'm not interested in it. I didn't pass 7th grade religion class because of this, I did literally nothing except the group presentation. It doesn't count towards GPA, so I'm good with it.

4.- Time Waste: 2 weekly hours, 17 weeks. 34 total hours. Even if I spend that fucking time just jacking off, the dopamine for my brain makes it more valuable. (Didn't actually say this)

All in all, 4 points, explained, which gave me a good backing. What was their super intelligent response?

"We want you to make an informed decision to reject religion"

That was it. That was their fucking point.

My rebuttal?

5.- Good info on religion: My school has a religion class, as I've mentioned before. 9 fucking years on that shit. My last teacher liked to particullarly rant about how atheism doesn't exist. 2 hours of that shit, PER WEEK.

Additionally, I went to church weekly (by choice til 13, forced til 15) and when I was still catholic, the only book I was allowed to have at school was the bible (because anything else would distract me) couple that with 45 minutes wait for them to pick me up, when, by school policy, I couldn't talk with anyone else or do anything else than be quiet on my seat, maybe reading quietly. 45 minutes daily reading the bible, times 5 because of weekdays, times 52 for yearly hours, times 6 for years that I did it. I'll let you do the math. Please do. I don't have energy for it.

Good rebuttal, right?

Well, no. My mom was calm about all this, but then she told my dad. And shit hit the fan.

My mom has an habit of taking things out of context, and as I made an emphasis on point one, that's the one she told my dad.

Well, 5 minutes after talking to my mom, I was playing calmly in my room, thinking "Hey, even if I couldn't make them change their mind, maybe they'll think about it."

Ha. Haha. Ha.

My dad stormed into my room, fairly angry. He told me about using excuses, and that, given that I used COVID as an excuse, he wouldn't let me go out at all, because I was "Soooo worried about COVID"

Now, to be fair, after this I saw red. In less than two weeks, it's the birthday of a friend (that I might or might not have a crush on)

She was planning to do something on her birthday, and the fact that I would've to say "No, my dad won't let me" and explain his reasoning extremely angered me.

I like to think that I kept my cool, I don't know if I achieved it.

I explained him the same points I did my mom, and when I rebutted each of his points, suddenly it became about obedience. That I should hear them because they know what's best for me. That they know better. That the pro I didn't see was making them happy.

I rebutted this saying my happiness was also important, and that I didn't see the church as good, when you weigh it against the bad it has done.

Suddenly it became about my sleep patterns. That me having trouble in the mornings is my fault, and that I should sleep by nine pm, etcetera.

I rebutted this with studies that said I should sleep by 12, and that it's normal.

And then it became about my time usage. That I play too much. (This is to unwind after their rants)

I didn't say anything to this, because he was angry. Stupidly angry. I just let him rant and go out of my room.

Now, I want to know. Do any of your non-atheist parents do any of this? Because it tires me out.

I mean, maybe I'm just posting this to take a breather, or for a change, hear people who support me and won't rat me out to my parents if I complain about them.

Submitted February 01, 2021 at 08:53AM by PyRoddit via reddit https://ift.tt/2MKguhX

[jlf23tumble]

(1/?) Hi – x files anon here, from @alienfuckeronmain’s blog. I saw your reblog and now have more thoughts! About what you said about first season mulder and scully characterizations – I don’t know about “high-talker” but I just watched the pilot, and pilot-Mulder is just.. *off*. Way, way too hyper and manic, with the crazy theories and the pressured speech. I mean, it’s a pilot, and we have make allowances for the fact that the show hadn’t settled into

(2/?) what it was going to be, but I’m glad that they toned down that part of his characterization, because it made it even more implausible that someone like him would be working at the FBI. Also… I know that the premise of this show that you have to accept is that Mulder will ultimately be proven right, but I just can’t help watching those first episodes as an adult and thinking, “oh Scully, you’ve got SUCH a promising career ahead of you. PLEASE don’t hitch your wagon to this nutcase.”

(3/?) And for the wardrobe stuff… I guess I never really noticed early-season Mulder having a bad wardrobe. But then again, Duchovny was hot in anything, and everything – including those high-waisted 90s jeans – looked good on him. The man had a seriously beautiful body, but one that didn’t look like it was chiselled out of clay, or synthetically made in some gym-lab the way Hollywood male bodies typically look.

(4/?) As for Scully’s wardrobe, I kinda like the characterization of it being a bit plain and unvarnished. She’s obviously very early on in her career, and she spent her 20s in med school and residency, where your wardrobe is limited to scrubs and jeans and sweats with the name of your undergrad school stamped on them, so I totally buy that she doesn’t have a clear idea of what a high-achieving career woman should dress like.

(5/?)And I see both sides of the argument – Gillian Anderson is a pretty lady, and maybe she’s not as conventionally pretty as Duchovny, so the wardrobe frumpiness weighs more heavily on her, so it would be nice if they dressed her up a bit better. But, I’m more of the opinion that… sigh… why does everyone have to be glammed up? They’re government agents, not fashion models. The frumpiness fits, no?

(6/?)And as I’m writing this, I wonder if the earlier suit choices were an homage to Clarice Starling – didn’t she look a bit frumpy, with kind of the same brown gingham jacket that scully had in the pilot, that Hannibal mocked her for? I also clicked on your links for x files fanfic, and omg the internet was soooo cute back then! I wanna pinch its cheeks! I’ve been hitting AO3 for M/K fanfic, but I’ll try those too – thanks! If you’ve got any specific recs though, I would love to hear them!

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

HELLO TO YOU, TOO, X Files anon! I’m so glad @alienfuckeronmain sent you my way because yes, yes, I can talk about these topics for hours and hours, and I’ll try to keep it at a normal level for everyone else, but it’s Halloween! If you can’t go awf about these two today of all days, when can you? Apart from 2/23 and 10/13, amirite?? Before we get too far into casting and clothing, I’m going to rec a fabulous time-waster from mid-fandom times, and that’s Jessica’s brilliant recaps on Television without Pity....here’s the link to the X Files in general (they’re ranked from most recent, and don’t ask me why, but there are a ton of gaps??? Are these just Jessica’s greatest hits or what?). but if you read nothing else, check out the recap for the pilot here because it does a FANTASTIC job of gently mocking everything about the place where it all started (and the manic high talking).

You are absolutely right on the money about the link to Clarice Starling, she seems to be the blueprint for early Scully in all kinds of way, and if you watch the pilot, you, much like Mulder, will wonder exactly who she pissed off to draw the short card here, but she’s eager and curious and coming from med school, and he’s a total pariah (not wrongfully so), and she was hired by the Cigarette Smoking Man and Blevins and the other assholes running the joint to basically spy on him (worst case) and discredit him (best case), but that’s not how it all pans out. 

I think the beauty of this show, especially in its earlier days, was that Mulder was not always right--he usually had wild hunches and went for it, but a lot of credit went to Scully for actually trying to ground his crazy ass in cold, hard facts. Spooky Mulder was in the basement for a reason, and one thing I loved about this show was that he totally Got It, he could mock her hard on for science all he wanted, but he also appreciated the credibility she brought to the operation, and he respected the hell out of her. Hard to believe how ground-breaking that was and still is, tbh. To me, some of the more interesting episodes in that regard were when they switched POVs: when Scully was faced with something related to her faith that made her believe something she couldn’t see or prove, and how whatever that thing was turned Mulder into a scathing asshole skeptic, how he couldn’t believe she’d “fall for that crap” when he basically fell for it every day. Much to think about, or so the writers were hoping, lmao.

As for casting, I’ve read alllllll the interviews, and from what Chris Carter says, Fox (of course) wanted someone who was hotter, more of the “Pam Anderson” type to be Scully, so the studio fought hard against casting her, but everyone, including Duchovny, pushed to keep her, which was pretty amazing when you consider how young she was, the overall lack of a budget here, and just what a weird show it was in context. She got pregnant a year or so into it, but by then, Scully was rock solid, and it turned into a pretty great storyline, so no worries.

As for clothes, even to this DAY, I have friends in Washington who swear there’s a deliberate style of dress for certain offices to prove how “serious” you are about your work, and this would have been doubly true for 1990s FBI...one of the gripes was that in later years, Armani or someone was dressing Mulder, and Scully had this killer wardrobe, and howwwwww on their budgets and with these types of jobs? Won’t someone think of the GS-10 pay grade???

Anyway, I’ll shut up now, but I love people revisiting it from day one! It’s probably even MORE dated with every passing day, but check out all the fic and read those recaps! I wish I had actual recs for you, but I’d need to go back and dig--you couldn’t really save them without literally copying and pasting, and I simply didn’t do that since all the archives were there to, uh, archive. Have I mentioned lately how wonderful it is that ao3 lets your bookmark, download, and subscribe? Because it’s pretty goddamned wonderful!

[captainwhogotthecanary]

Something In Your Eyes (5/?)

Soooo, remember I said this would be 15 chapters and an epilogue?

Yeah, I just replotted it out to include the rest of her pregnancy and also nods to s2 where possible, sooooo it’s now weighing in at 33 if I stick to the outline.

Whoops? Blame Tavyn and Claudiarain <3

Thanks too to SylvanHeather starting this chapter, who also read through for feedback. Assume these three lovely ladies are giving me general feedback, at minimum, going forward, unless otherwise stated.

Starting this week and until I run out of buffer (which is almost month at this point, if I stopped writing today), SIYE will update Tuesday and Fridays. There’s still roughly a week happening in/between each chapter until otherwise stated.

Content warning this chapter for some violence, but not even as much as we usually see in canon.

Also on AO3.

Sara yawns again. She’s been trying to get to bed at a decent time, but life gets in the way.

Okay, spending time with Leonard gets in the way.

They’ve been keeping to their agreement, keeping things platonic aside from some harmless flirting neither of them seems able to turn off. There’s also been an increase in solo activities starring Leonard as inspiration when she isn’t too tired, but he didn’t exactly seem to mind when she let that slip. Her cards are on the table, and taking the edge off can only help, right?

Only, it doesn’t really help. Every moment between them is still charged. They went out to the bar with Mick the night before—Sara stuck to club soda because alcohol just didn’t sound particularly appealing—nominally to celebrate her working with them, but they just sort of kept forgetting Mick was there.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the other man’s company; she actually thinks they could get to be pretty good friends, too. It’s just that every cell in her body felt like it was being pulled toward Leonard, like every accidental touch set her ablaze.

Luckily, Mick didn’t take offense. He seemed tickled every time one of them blinked at him after he spoke. Still, she knows they need to work on that, especially since they’ll be working together.

Her first training job is today, and she’s spent five minutes trying to wake up enough to get out of her car. She needs to make it upstairs to his office to run back over the details, then back down and over to the location.

It really wasn’t the morning for her to realize she was out of coffee. She makes a note to grab some caffeine before heading to the job, if she has time, then takes a deep breath and gets out of the car.

As she makes her way to Leonard's office, she smiles at new coworkers who are already growing familiar. She waves at Felicity, who she’s found out is the tech wizard who got Leonard into her vault, then raps smartly on the office door.

“Come in,” Leonard calls. She walks in, finding Mick and Leonard already pouring over plans.

“Am I late?” she asks, glancing at the clock.

“No,” Mick answers. “Boss just wanted to get a head start since you’re the one going in.” There’s a slight edge to his voice, and Sara makes a note to ask Leonard about it when she gets a chance, but he doesn’t look upset, and his body language says she isn’t the target of his ire.

“We don’t usually let trainees go in on their own so early,” Leonard says, glaring mildly at Mick before looking at Sara, “so yes, I’d like to be a little more cautious than usual. Given your expertise and the ease of this part of the job, though, I don’t foresee any problems.”

There’s an empty chair next to Mick’s, a new addition to the room, and Sara sits in it and starts looking over the publically available information.

“You know what you’re doing today?” Leonard asks, and Sara nods.

“The target is a high-end department store,” Sara says, “with the main entrance on a busy street. They sell a lot of big ticket items, and they attract a lot of the type of clientele who can afford to pay in cash, so it’s high risk if there are any security holes. The owner wants to make sure she’s not gonna lose out on hard-earned money. I’m going in, with a camera and earpiece, to scope out the place before you actually attempt a job.”

Leonard nods, and Mick speaks. “Trickier than a lot of ‘em. Department store makes it near impossible to attempt anything without upsetting customers. Means what ends up happening is we only get as far as handing over a note that says we’re pretending to rob the joint. I see that and let security know it’s a test at that point, but they still have to get at least one armed guard in range before it’s been too long.”

They spend time pouring over plans and what parts of the store Sara needs to get on camera. She’s also testing alertness of security guards by acting suspect around some easier-to-lift items, with no actual intent to steal. Mick seems like himself, or at least the self she’s come to expect, so she dismisses the initial edge to his voice as imagined.

By the time Sara’s walking into the department store, she’s confident in the job, and she’s more excited about the work than she’s been in years. She only has half the coffee she picks up on her way, because she’s already humming with anticipation.

“Alright, Sara,” Leonard’s voice says in her ear, “video and audio are both good. Go ahead as planned.”

“Will do,” she says under her breath. She goes through the center of the store before making her way back around its edges, making sure she catches as much of the walls and ceilings on camera as possible. Occasionally, Leonard will give her more specific directions, things she missed, places he wants her to stop, things he could only have guessed at until he had eyes on. She quickly gets a feel for it, and she can hear the pleasure in his voice when she next stops.

“Precisely,” he tells her, and she waits a few more seconds before moving on. “Okay, you see those earrings over by the closest register? I want you to hang out over there. Fidget, look nervous.”

“Look like I want to take them,” she confirms before moving over to them.

They’re pretty, she admits, but not at all her style. They look like they would catch on her hair every two seconds. Besides, when she lifts one up, eyes darting around before she sets it back down, she sees that the price on it is about what she makes in a month, and she’s not exactly underpaid.

“Who would want these?” she mutters, and she hears Len chuckle. She almost breaks character with a returning grin, but her eyes are suddenly drawn to a man standing near the register.

He looks even more suspect than she’s trying to.

“You getting this?” she asks Leonard without taking her eyes off him.

“I am. I’m ready to alert police, and Felicity’s running facial recognition, though the hat’s making it tricky.” He pauses. “Get just a little closer if you can, but not too close. You don’t want to end up a hostage if this isn’t a false alarm.”

She moves a little closer and is positioning herself in front of a sock display when the man suddenly makes a move. He yanks down a ski mask, the edge of it only barely sticking out under his cap, which he knocks off in the process. It’s a quick move though, practiced, and his face is covered before anyone else knows what’s going on. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun, which he points immediately at the surprised cashier.

Sara takes a step closer when the cashier starts shaking and crying. The gunman isn’t reacting to her hysterics well, and he starts yelling. Sara has enough training that she thinks, even unarmed, she can take him down before anyone gets hurt.

“I know you have to help even though I’ve already alerted the police,” Leonard says, predicting her next move. His voice is controlled, if not quite calm, in her ear. “I know you’re able, too.”

Sara tenses as she waits for an opening, watches the unknown assailant wave his gun at the sobbing cashier.

“But you aren’t in charge here,” Leonard says. “I know at your bank you’d risk everything to foil a robbery, but head of security? That’s not you anymore, not here, not today. You’re here as my employee, and I’m telling you not to risk your life to save some cash.”

Sara internally rails against the order, but he’s right; she shouldn’t risk herself to stop the thief from getting away with his haul. She can and will, though, step in if it escalates any further, if it looks like anyone is about to get shot. Minutes pass, and she shuffles closer still when the man’s back is turned.

“Sara…” Leonard’s voice holds caution, not censure, like he can tell the compromise she’s settled on. She watches as the cashier starts handing over the money in the register, the gunman impatiently gesturing for her to go faster. “Detective West is in the building, Sara,” Leonard says, and something in her loosens to know she’s not only got backup, but backup she knows and trusts. “Hold on for just a few more seconds.”

And she tries, she really does, but the thief hears Detective West too early, and as the assailant spins toward someone she considers a friend, arm tense and finger on the trigger and face contorted in anger and fear, Sara finds she doesn’t really have a choice. She’s only a step away, and that’s all it takes to put herself in the path of his spinning arm, letting her grab the gun without ever being in its sights. It takes no effort to disarm him, and she steps back immediately, giving Joe a clean path to the man.

Sara can hear Leonard breathing hard enough for it to come over the microphone, but she doesn’t let herself talk to him until Joe has cuffed and unmasked the robber. “It’s over,” she says.

***

When Sara comes out of the building as he approaches it, she’s looking a just little rattled and entirely unharmed, and there’s very little that could keep Leonard from wrapping his arms around her. She doesn’t resist, instead melting into his embrace, leaning against him like she suddenly needs the help standing.

“You made the right call,” he murmurs into her hair, and she chuckles, finally lifting her own arms and wrapping them around his waist.

“I had some help.”

They stand like that until Detective West approaches, and then Leonard reluctantly lets go.

“We got all we needed from you, Sara,” West says before turning to Leonard, “but the video feed from her camera would help us when it comes time for prosecution. I assume you recorded it like usual?”

Leonard nods. “I’ll get that sent over as soon as I get back,” he says, and the detective nods and leaves.

Sara turns back to Leonard. “Do you need me back at the office?”

He frowns. He’s pretty sure she just means today, but after the experience her first time out, on a job that should’ve been safe, he has to ask: “Today, or ever?”

She looks at him like he should know better, and she’s probably right. “Today. I’ve still gotta run some errands before I call it quits for the day, and I was already tired. I know soon as the adrenaline finishes wearing off, I’m gonna be useless.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “We have what we need from the video, and we can have you sign the incident reports tomorrow after they’re ready.” He hesitates. “Do you need a ride?”

“I’ll be okay to drive,” she says. “You didn’t need to come down here at all… but I’m glad you did.”

He stares down at her and reminds himself they still have a few weeks before he’s allowed to give into his almost overpowering urge to kiss her. Hugs seem to be acceptable, though, so he pulls her into one last embrace before they part ways.

***

Alone in her apartment a couple hours later, Sara unpacks her groceries, putting away the coffee for morning and leaving out the beef so she can cook it for dinner. When she opens the meat, though, she wrinkles her nose; it’s definitely gone bad, despite looking fine. She tosses the meat, deciding it’s not worth a return trip to the store after the day she’s had. She’s not gonna keep spoiled meat around just to get back less than ten bucks. She grabs a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner instead, and a few minutes later, she’s curled up on her couch, wrapped in her softest bathrobe and watching Netflix.

She looks at her phone as she gets a text from Leonard.

You okay? Want any company?

She responds before she can talk herself out of it.

Sure. Just watching tv but wouldn’t mind not being alone

You know where I live, she adds. I’ll unlock the door, so come on in.

I’m on my way, comes the almost immediate response. Sara smiles and gets up long enough to unlock the door before getting comfortable again. She starts eating, but her movements slow and her eyes grow heavy, and she falls asleep before her bowl is even half empty.

She’s dimly aware when Leonard comes in, managing a noise of acknowledgement when he calls her name from inside the door. She feels him lift her, and she snuggles into his neck until he sets her down in her bed, pulling the covers carefully over her. When she hears his footsteps leaving, she calls out without opening her eyes.

“Stay?”

He pauses, and she hears him come back over, feels his weight as he joins her on the bed.

“Go back to sleep, Sara,” he says, wrapping his arms around her.

And she does.

[evnoweb]

Who said that? – Answers

I hope that you enjoyed poking around looking for yourself in the comments from yesterday’s post.  It was a nice opportunity for me to revisit some of my old posts and some of the great comments that came to them.

As I promised, here are the answers.

Very fun! TY for the share! – Ramona Meharg – Your own coat of arms

Didn’t know Storify was going to stop. Storify 2 doesn’t make all that much sense and I won’t be paying for it. I don’t have a good idea how I will capture conversations in the future. Recently, Storify has been a really great way to capture conversations on #ontedassessment. I don’t see how Participate will work as well and Participate still seems to have a 140 character limit, so 2016! – Paul McGuire – Going, Going

I also used my own money to by bread and peanut butter for snack sandwiches. My idea of when the peanut jar was empty changes a lot once the cost was on me. Imagine that. – Alfred Thompson – Whatever happpened to … $0.99 Ponderosa steaks?

I’ve written a few times about the alumni community we’ve built and how it’s such an important part of a teacher’s career (at least mine). – Mike Zemansky – Whatever happened to … those lifelong friends?

What goalie was attributed with being the first one to use a mask in an NHL game? – Jacques Plante. Everyone knows that one. – Stephen Downes – Whatever happened to … straight bladed hockey sticks?

So if this was a kid in elementary school it would be ‘yes you can still go on the big year end field trip but we’ll suspend you for five days in September.’ – Lisa Cranston – Two Standards

Thank you for sharing Dylan’s story ~ and thank you to Lisa for suggesting it as well! It was such a cool experience for Dylan, and the entire class benefitted from learning together. I’m starting to wonder if there is such a thing as a potter’s swagger (lol), since he’s starting to make a name for himself — how amazing is that! – Colleen Rose – This Week in Ontario Edublogs

Agh. I’m asleep on the job. Now scrambling to figure out what I can quickly make today to celebrate pi day. Last year, we had mini quiches for breakfast, tarts for dessert, and a meat pie for supper. – Lisa Noble – March 14

For years in edtech we have been nibbling at the edges, with a number of different tools, for what explain everything puts in each students’ hands. It’s not necessarily revolutionary as much as it is the culmination of the revolution in which students are able to differentiate how they respond, and teachers are able to capture much more easily, the responses (in differentiated ways) of all of their students. It doesn’t look knew because you’ve been able to do things like this for a while. You’ve just never been able to do them this easily. – Jarred Bennett – 100 year old inspiration

Thanks for this, Doug. I’ve been trying to brush on my math skills so I’ll check it out. – Peter Beens – Having fun with mathematics

That student coming back to see me paralleled my own experiences so closely that it rocked me. Nothing has changed in the thirty years since I was in high school. Kids are still being punished by teachers in subjects they love because they don’t do it like they should (ie: how the teacher does it). You have to wonder how non-neuro-typical students do in this enforced compliance thinking culture. Many in education don’t value passion and uniqueness of approach, they value conformity of thinking. – Tim King – This Week in Ontario Edublogs

We are quite fortunate that significant latitude is allowed in the selection of learning materials in our schools. I have always appreciated seeing the red-and-white Maple Leaf sticker on books that is added by libraries (public and school) to highlight Canadian-authored materials. Just yesterday I borrowed a book from our school library for use in a Social Studies lesson and noted with satisfaction that it had the sticker. While the machinations of bodies like the CRTC don’t generate a lot of headlines in the larger scope of things, it is comforting to know that the importance of Canadian culture is valued, and that our options and choices remain informed. – Andy Forgrave – Perspective(s)

We held a contest to come up with a new name and asked the community and alumni what they thought of the whole idea. We ended up leaning towards ‘Wolverines,’ but three problems emerged: alumni were upset at the idea of change; the student’s artwork for the wolverine, which teachers and many kids loved, was clearly plagiarized from other institutions; and the students who had mispronounced the school and mascot’s name initially were sad to realize that the same could happen with any new mascot. – David Garlick – Whatever happened to … that school mascot?

I would say I am a big offender with Kleenex and bandaid. Interestingly, the spellchecker capitalized Kleenex for me but not Band-Aid . I used to work as a reporter for a newspaper in our area and once received a lawyer’s letter due to using the word rollerblade with a lowercase as a generic term for in-line skates! – Anne Shillolo – Genericide

Hi Doug. Enjoyed this post as many of us are weighing in on what it means to be a “connected” educator and the benefits of Twitter use both and the impacts it has on our teaching practices. I tend to agree with your last sentence. Social media has become a very easy platform for anyone and everyone to have a voice. I still believe that in fairness to all parties involved, any conflicts/ disagreements are best had face to face. – Peter Cameron – Yeah, it can happen

Thanks for including mine. I was thinking of a response – it boiled down to my students racing to solve the clues without pausing and evaluating the meaning of the clues and how they fit together. It will help me re-adjust my planning and presentation. Thanks! – Eva Thompson – This Week in Ontario Edublogs

Certainly we ‘own’ our learning when we are connecting with other educators far and wide. Donna Fry – The “P” in PLN

What a wonderful tribute to a great person who I’ve come to know this past year through RCAC, twitter and Ignite Parents. – Heather Durnin – @pmcash’s Bucket List – Taking the Bait

This is soooo timely! We were in a team meeting the other day and discussing having students create a product for design challenge. I suggested they do a toy for Xmas and referenced how excited I used to get when we got the Christmas Wish Book. We would mark all the pages and circle what we wanted before writing our letter to Santa. It is a huge part of my childhood! – Anne Marie Luce – Whatever happened to … Christmas catalogues

Interesting stuff there in Moore’s Law! – Sheila Stewart – This Week in Ontario Edublogs

and the irony that I had just recently left just north of Goderich

Makes me sad that Di zapped her flickr photos. I don’t hear from her much, the word is she’s active in Facebook. Say hi to her. – Alan Levine – Copyright thinking

This takes me to a summer in the late 90s when I had the privilege of teaching an OAC English summer course in Oxford. A couple of us tried, whenever possible, to attend the college garden performances of Shakespeare plays. – Noeline Laccetti – Free reading

We don’t start classes until Monday … but in the background we have a new Director of Teaching Innovation who comes from our Music Department, bringing a new perspective and really different voice to our academic leadership. And, in my role, we get “new” every month, week & day as updates continually roll out and we have to change a little bit. OneNote has new special-ed capabilities, Excel now co-authors, Desmos is now programmable, etc – Cal Armstrong – So, what’s new?

I wish I had the time to see the kids after school but with my own it’s hard. I also don’t live in the same city so that makes it harder. I also loved how you snuck in a 6th one about your kid. – Jonathan So – Defining Teaching Moments #5bestEd

I like receiving cards. (So much so that I don’t throw them away afterwards!) My favourites are the ones with photos of the people. I like seeing how children grow and families change. – Diana Maliszewski – Whatever happened to … Christmas Cards?

How did you do?  Hopefully, you at least found yourself in the list.

Perhaps you’re inspired to link back to the original post to see what it was all about?

And the spam one?

Grade A stuff. I’m untnusqioeably in your debt. – Darence – on one of the OTR links

  Who said that? – Answers published first on http://ift.tt/2gZRS4X