#so i feel as if it is my duty to post this here solely to ensure that the landscape is not entirely barren.

[villainvirus]

06:59:59

[poppadom0912]

The best babysitters

Warnings: Mentions of absent father but all fluff

Summary: Work prevents you from going home one night, thankfully you’ve got the best backup in Chicago.

A/N: This is being posted later than I planned. My mum was in hospital and it gave me a scare but she's all recovered now so here this is. This is in celebration of 1k, a few more will follow as my workload has decreased significantly.

This fic exists in the same world as my other fic ‘older sister’ but can also be read as a stand alone.

You were tired.

Work was beyond busy today and your clients were being unnecessarily stressful. All you wanted now was to go home, relieve your babysitter of her duties and enjoy the night in with your daughter.

It seemed that the universe had some sort of vendetta against you though because just as you were putting the finishing signatures on the last few papers, an intern, a woman you saw earlier at reception, came running into your office slightly out of breath.

You wanted to scream.

Letting the poor intern talk, you smiled at her stiffly, dismissing her after saying you’d make your way. There was no way you could ask your babysitter to stay late for God knows how much longer, you could remember her telling you she has a lecture tomorrow morning.

Getting up from your desk, you sighed, screwing your eyes closed when you caught the time on your phone. Your sigh in defeat could probably be heard all across Chicago.

Walking out your office, the sound of your heels filled out the empty space, majority of the firm had gone home, only a few stragglers staying behind to close up on any loose ends.

Turning your phone on, you ignored the several notifications screaming for your attention and went straight to your contacts.

Your phone only rang twice before the person on the receiving end picked up.

“Hey Will, can you do me the biggest favour please… You’re a life saviour, thanks, I owe you one.”

Hanging up the phone, you stared ahead through the windows at the bustling waiting room, raised angry voices overlapping and bleeding though the walls.

You could already feel your headache intensifying.

*****

Using his spare key, Will entered your house. Shuffling inside, he took off his jacket and shoes as usual.

Hearing the front door open, little pattering feet were immediately heard running across the house. Will smiled at the sound that he didn’t hear often due to all of your demanding jobs.

“Mama! Mama oh-“

The immense joy on Harper’s face disappeared as the nearly two-year-old rounded the corner on her little chubby legs, expecting to see her beloved mother who she missed all day only to suddenly be met with her redheaded uncle.

“Well hello to you too miss Harper.” Will smiled down at his niece nonetheless, crouching down to scoop her into his arms to which she didn’t argue and instead welcomed.

As soon as she was safe in his arms, the toothiest, giddiest smile broke out on her chubby face that was so scarily identical to yours that it could only be explained by witchcraft.

Harper giggled, such a sound making Will forget about all the horrors that stained his day from the emergency department.

“Hi!” She exclaimed, her smile remained upright and never faltered. “Hi!”

And soon after, she pressed her open mouth onto his stubbly cheek, her attempt of a kiss. Despite struggling with the tough task and all the slobber that remained on his cheek, Will’s reaction was instant and wouldn’t change for the world.

“Oh, thank you so much Harper! Uncle Will missed you tons. Look at how big you’ve grown!”

But, before Will could have all his focus solely on his adorable niece, the sound of the front door unlocking diverted his attention.

Lo and behold, Jay casually strolled in as though this was another random Tuesday.

Oh, that son of a b-

Harper’s scream that followed definitely burst Will’s eardrums.

Will winced, tipping his head away to protect his ears from any further damage before turning to glare at his brother who was taking his jacket off.

"What are you-"

"You said we'd meet at Molly's for a drink but you weren't there." Jay cut Will off, a smile on his face as he looked at Harper and spoke without looking in Will's direction. "Natalie told me you were here."

"Jay Jay's jealous Harper." Will said, his tone all factual and matter-of-fact as he looked at the toddler in his arms. "He didn't want to miss out."

Jay didn't even try to look offended or hurt by Will's remark because deep down, it was somewhat true because how could Jay let Will have all the fun by himself?

"Stop hogging her you buffoon and let me hold her." Jay told Will, not waiting for a reply as he moved forward and took Harper into his arms, the girl didn't protest nor did she willingly lean forward.

"What- Uh, I've literally been here for five minutes Jay."

"Am I your favourite uncle? I knew it!"

*****

Following Jay’s sudden and unprompted arrival, Will dismissed your babysitter, paying her what you usually did and a little more as compensation for staying so late.

Once she had left, there wasn’t much left around the house for them to do besides turning the dishwasher on and making Harper’s nightly milks, but it wasn’t her bedtime just yet and maybe if time permitted it, Harper could stay up a little beyond her usual bedtime.

Consider it a small treat for this special circumstance without her mother implementing her strict nighttime routine.

While Will was sorting away the finals bits in the kitchen, Jay easily made himself comfortable in the living room while Harper continued to babble nonsensically, a few discernible words welcomed themselves into the mix. Jay allowed himself to take a second to relish in the moment, trying to prevent himself from having an existential crisis as he realised he was both emotional but also proud of how much she was growing.

“Dada, look look! S’ Dada!”

Moment ruined, Jay’s smile instantly fell.

Jay followed the direction of Harper’s index finger to the tv, his face hardening at the sight of the man who failed his fiancée and his baby who just turned one.

Harper's 'dad' was a television reporter and it had totally slipped his mind that this was the channel he worked for. Seeing his stupid face yap away about the news made his blood boil.

Jay changed the channel without a second thought.

Your ex fiancé had suddenly decided to leave on Harper’s first birthday, not even having the decency to at least show up at her birthday party.

A year later, and Harper still remembered the man whose name was her first word.

It devastated you still to this day what he had done and Harper’s random interjections of ‘dada’ only made the wound deeper.

“Dada isn’t here harper.” Jay said, tone as soft as it could be as he tried to explain it without her crying.

“It’s just uncle Jay and Will, and mama will be home soon.” Jay continued, holding the toddler in his lap so there was no chance of her running away crying.

Luckily, Harper was a mummy’s girl through and through, so despite the large absence of her father, simply mentioning ‘mama’ or anything akin to that made her entire face light up in a way that no one else could.

“Okay Halstead’s, listen up!” Will said as he entered the living room, phone in one and a towel in the other.

“Y/N’s saying it’s mostly likely going to be another two hours minimum so we’re most likely going to have to stay over.” Will told Jay specifically before looking down at Harper.

“You wanna get into your PJ’s Harps? Jay Jay can make you some milk.”

And despite her highly energised state, Harper would never turn down the enticing combination of her pyjamas and warm milk.

Crawling out of Jay’s lap, Harper moved towards Will who in turn of carrying her gave Jay the towel he was holding. And as much as Jay wanted to fight his brother, he knew Will had more experience with kids - i.e. Owen - and so he could gladly change her diaper.

With Will and Harper standing over him, brown eyes wide, glinting with a hidden intent Jay had become familiar with since childhood. It really wasn’t fair that you and Will both had your father’s eyes which Harper just had to inherit. Jay found himself useless and always surrendering to those goddamn eyes, even as the youngest sibling.

Whenever Jay remembered his childhood, it never made sense why the two older siblings never folded as easily when he looked up at them with the biggest, most imploring eyes. Even now, three decades later, and not a single thing had changed.

“Okay, okay! Just stop looking at me like that.” As soon as Jay spoke, the two rejoiced, their happiness still discernible even as they made their way upstairs.

“Let’s get this party started then.”

*****

And so party they did.

Well at least according to Harper’s standards.

The night started off with warm drinks - Harper with her milk while Will and Jay spoiled themselves to the expensive coffee beans that you easily could afford but neither your brothers indulged in unless under your roof.

Following this, Harper had a short but very fun time running around with sudden newfound energy, causing as much havoc as humanly possible for anyone her size.

It was safe to say that she tired herself quite quickly.

As Jay opened himself and Will a beer, he walked back into the living room, his eyes landing on his older brother and niece, the younger scrunched up into a little ball on Will's chest. Her face completely relaxed and arms wrapped around his torso as she snored quietly.

"Now this, after today, is my kinda party."

"Amen." Will agreed, tapping his bottle with Jay's as a silent 'cheers'.

Jay settled besides his brother, both of them staring forward at the muted movie Harper randomly chose, the first she watched that didn't have any princess affiliations.

"Gosh, it feels like years since we last babysat her." Will said, a sombre but nostalgic tone lacing his words.

"It does." Jay hummed as he swallowed his beer. "We're all so busy with work we can hardly make time for each other."

Will scoffed. "I see you almost everyday, strolling casually into the ED like you own the freaking place. Who are you kidding?"

Jay rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless.

"Yeah, we need to visit more often. Make more effort and take out the time."

The silence that followed was filled by Harpers little snores and the occasional sound of a siren blaring past in the distance.

"I'm so tired I could knock out right here on the floor."

"Don't be such a doofus, go put her down in her bed."

"Aye aye captain."

*****

When you finally returned home three hours later, tired beyond belief. You were so close to dropping to the floor as soon as you locked the door but as you ventured into the house, you were met with the most heart warming sight.

On the floor in the living room remained your two younger brothers and your daughter. Harper was still scrunched up in a ball on Will's chest, her hand clutching his shirt while said man had his face leaning forward into her hair, his breaths causing Harper's curl to move occasionally. Jay sat besides them, hands crossed slightly on his lap and his head tipped backwards, resting on the sofa.

Even as your eyes burned with the need for sleep, you took a few pictures of the scene before you, your smile not going till your head met your pillow.

If Jay and Will woke up with sore necks in the morning, there was a very seasoned doctor in the house for a reason.

[selfinsertmadness]

i have a really cool prompt

hope you like my idea,

could you perhaps write a story about the current logan situation with loganxy/n ??

i love your blog soooo muchhhh

Logie and the Australian car incident

pairing: AstonMartin!y/n x Logan Sargeant (can be read platonically or romantically)

author's note: I haven't written any fanfic stuff in literal years (middle school me is quacking) but I tried my best with that one. Looking forward to any suggestions or critiques you may have :) (insert obligatory English is not my native language here) (please send promts!!!!)

The day starts off as any other day on a busy race weekend would and you are busy running around the Aston Martin garage making sure everything is in order before you return to your place at the back of the garage. You let your gaze sweep over the garage one last time before getting out your work phone and texting your boss, Lawrence, that everything is in order. The cars seem good, the mechanics had no complaints and Lance and Fernando were reasonably happy with everything. A satisfied smile washes over your face, your job was busy but reasonably easy, as the team caretaker your sole mission was to make sure the team was happy, the drivers taken care of, and the PR supervisors were not losing their minds running after their drivers while also texting Lawrence even the most minute details about his son and the other driver.

It seems quite redundant to you, but Lawrence Stroll pays well and who are you to turn down a job as a glorified team nanny.

You take a seat at the back and watch the first practice session absentmindedly, letting your gaze wander down to your phone occasionally, and scrolling through Twitter, scoffing at all the hate towards the current grid. It never ceases to amaze you how people can be so hateful, but then again, some people are just unhappy about their own lives. Looking up at the screen you watch a Williams car hit the wall on the right before sliding across the track and grinding its way to a stop on the left barrier. You gasp as you jump up, the rest of the garage wincing in sympathy as the car finally stops. You quickly turn to a mechanic nearby. “Who was that?”, you ask a little panicked as you watch the red flag fly and a driver in a Williams race suit climb out of the cockpit. “Albon, I think”, the mechanic replies helpfully as you try and suppress a relieved sigh. You still feel sorry for Alex but simultaneously thanking your lucky stars that Logan was not the one in an accident this time.

When Logan first got signed by Williams you both were ecstatic, you had met years ago when your parents had taken you on a vacation to Florida where you met Logan and you’ve kept in touch ever since. You had already been working for Aston Martin when Logan started in F1 and the fact that you could spend a lot more time together now served as further motivation to both of you to give it your best. You quickly shoot him a text, knowing he won’t be responding until later, before sending your boss a quick update and making sure the crash had not affected your team.

You honestly had forgotten you texted Logan in the first place as you watch the cars head out for the second practice session, Alex staying back in the pits, watching his teammate drive. You smile as you send Logan some memes you had found on twitter, knowing he would have a laugh once he got back to his room after the strenuous practice sessions of the day. Aston Martin, for once, had no major issues you had attend to and you could lean back and relax, as much as one in a Formula 1 garage can relax, in your seat while harassing the Aston Martin Instagram Admin with Memes you think they should be posting asap.

As the second practice session ends you help the team pack up and prepare for the next day as the drivers attend to their media duties and you stretch in relief as the first day of the Australian Grand Prix comes to an end.  After having everything sorted you get out your work phone and sign off for the day before taking out your personal phone and responding to some texts before checking your chat with Logan, seeing that he had read your messages but not responded. ‘You ok?’, you send him before shrugging off any worry you might have. Surely, he was just busy, after all, he was the only Williams driver that would be starting on Sunday. You really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, the weight of the entire team and all the fans’ expectations resting on your shoulders. You might have a lot of responsibility but at least you were free of the expectations fans place on the drivers, mechanics and team principals.

You quickly slip into the shower of your private hotel room, a perk you were eternally grateful for, and put on some pajamas before order room service. You had earned it after all and looking after your figure was thankfully not a concern you had. ‘Ignoring your bestie? That’s not how I know you Loggie!’ you text Logan as you open the door for the food you had ordered and sit down before digging into the pepperoni pizza you had been craving for a week.

You startle as you hear a knock from your hotel room door. You shoot a quick glance at your phone, 11pm. You quietly approach the door and look through the peephole cautiously. Who would disturb you that late on a race weekend? Looking through the hole you see Logan at the door, his face unusually pale and his expression unnervingly neutral. Quickly you reach for the doorhandle, pulling the door open. “Logie? What got you a-knocking that late?”, you ask jokingly but the lighthearted smile on your face quickly fades as he stands on the swell of your door like a man lost, his eyes suspiciously watery. “Oh dear”, you mumble as you quickly pull him into your room and heard him towards your bed, letting him sit down before standing before him and looking at him with a stern expression. “What’s wrong?”, you ask, concern written all over your face.

He sighs, falling back onto the bed. “They’re taking my car.”, his voice sounds wobbly as he explains. “Who is taking your car?”, you ask, your voice confused.

“James. He said Alex has a higher chance of scoring and I get it, but I tried so hard, you know? They said they trusted me, and I was ready to proof how much I have improved and now I can’t drive at all. I didn’t crash the car! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything…”, he rambles, his voice flowing between sadness, anger and betrayal before ending in defeat. You look at him, he still has his upper body lying on your bed, his feet dangling off the side as he continues explaining what had happened. Quietly you sit down next to him on the bed and gently stroke through his hair as you let him talk out his frustrations. “y/n? What do I do now?”, Logan asks as he looks up at you, his eyes still wet but trying his hardest to not shed a tear.

“I will put the fear of God into that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”, you explain very matter of factly. “I’m gonna walk down to the Williams hospitality and I’m gonna scream at your team principal!”, you declare with a huff as you get off of your bed and towards where you kicked off your shoes when you came back from the paddock earlier that night.

“Y/N, do NOT do that.”, Logan warns as he gets up and grabs your hand. “That is just going to make it worse.” “Okay but it’s also gonna make me feel a lot better ‘cause who does he think he is? Taking your car and giving it away. I’m gonna make him regret this entire week” you say angrily as you look up at him with determination and the wrath of someone who’s best friend was just wronged in your eyes.

“Please don’t”, Logan asks with sad eyes, gripping your hand even tighter. “Please just stay with me tonight, I feel sick. I just want to cry.”, he admits to you as you feel your resolve break. “But- “, you trail off as you watch him stand before you, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You sigh in defeat before squeezing his hand. “Right but only ‘cause you asked me to, if it was up to me…”, you stop, leaving the threat hang in the air of your hotel room as you head towards the small desk. “Pizza”, you declare as you shove the leftovers of your pizza into Logans hands. “My TV has Netflix, what do you want to watch?”, you ask as you throw yourself into the hotel room bed and turn on the flatscreen TV hanging opposite it.

Logan lets out a surprised laugh and sits down next to you, the pizza carton still tightly in his hands as he gets out a slice and lets you choose whatever show you find on the homepage. The evening continues in relative silence as Logan finishes the pizza and you sit in the bed, leaning onto each other. “I’m still sending him negative vibes, like spiritually”, you grumble as he giggles before slipping off to sleep for the night.

[lullaebies]

To Make It Up To Your Inner Child: Alicent with Helaena and Aegon with Jaehaerys

So, haven't been here for a while, but now that the season is back on I have some reflections on the Targtower family generational trauma and how parent characters take to their same gendered child. This post is of course about Alicent and Helaena, while comparing them to Aegon and Jaehaerys. This post speaks solely about the House of the Dragon characters, and not their book counterparts. We will start with Alicent. We know that at 14, she was an anxious child, scratching her fingers and being very visibly uncomfortable when Otto asks her to be a part of his plans to win over Viserys. She is abruptly shoved away from childhood to being a woman, queen and a mother, practically made to shove herself in a succession crisis and lose friends on the way, all in service of her own family and accepting her duties. And she has her boys, the duties she had for the crown fullfiled. Those boys are hard to handle. Aegon and Aemond as we see on the show, are very much hurting from their father's decisions and other circumstances. Aegon takes to alcoholism and sex, Aemond takes to hatred and eventually is revealed to also cope through sex, though it isn't evident in the first season. Alicent, although she tries, cannot connect to them on certain levels - she often feels unheard by them instead as she states in S2. She takes a different personality when they have to be handeled, which I would argue is in order to make a facade of strength for them to respect her. She lacks tenderness with them - in S1 it was very evident with Aegon, in S2 it clear Aemond is feeling shafted by her as well. Between those boys however, she did have on girl. Helaena is her secondborn, her only same gendered child. Despite being unable to connect to Helaena fully due to her personality, she is the one person Alicent is very clearly trying to connect to desperately. We see her trying to hug her several times, we see her being as gentle as possible in words and actions when she is speaking to Helaena. I think, we are made to understand, that Alicent thinks that her reflection is Helaena, though Helaena is far more unfiltered and raw about her emotions. She poses questions and challenges duty in a manner that Alicent can very much empathize with. Because she was there; Alicent didn't want to be Queen, and didn't want her son to be King, and didn't wish for any of the duties that had been placed on her. She can see Helaena hurting from the same thing she is hurting by. Her daughter is hurting, and she notices that she needs someone to help her, because she had felt once as helpless too.

"All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me" - Young Alicent Hightower, S1 "But what they’ve done to my girl…” - Older Alicent Hightower, S2

Note how the first quote is speaking of Alicent's late mother, her death, and how alone she felt at the time of her death. Alicent wants to connect to Helaena as a mother, and be the light that her mother had been to her. But duty overtakes that position from her, and all Alicent can offer is tender reassurances, to the best of her abilities, to connect to Helaena through the grief of carrying the Crown. She does her best to heal the inner lonely child she had been, because her only girl would only ever be tended by her, and she knows it - none of the other people who build the Crown would be there for her in the same way. Alicent views Helaena as a mirror to the past, and now, she may also be a mirror to the future, in more than just the dreaming, as the death of her own children is impending through this war. And yet, a mirror to her in a different way exists in her eldest, Aegon. Aside from the casting choices magic, that make it seems as Tom Glynn Carney and Olivia Cooke are truthfully family through visage, it has been noted by plenty of others that Alicent and Aegon both throw themselves into similar patterns of behavior, such as falling deep to vices that hurt them. (Alicent's reliance on the Faith while Aegon reliance on alcohol for coping, self-harming ways shown from both characters, and also having sex as coping mechanism - shown from Aegon in S1, and from Alicent in S2 due to the addition of Alicole). Aegon also seems to be trying, just like Alicent, to make up for his inner child's trauma through making it up and being there for his same gendered child.

"He could have, but he never did because he didn't like me." - Aegon II, on his father not naming him heir, S1E9

Aegon has been noted to have self-worth issues. He has been neglected by his father and pushed aside by him in what would many would consider his rightful inheritance; his father did not look at him as an heir to the Throne, or even a child worth caring for and minding the feelings of. Attention was not given to Aegon II by Viserys I, and struggled with that for many years. But immediately upon being given the power to make it different for Jaehaerys, to let him know that he loves him, he named him heir; he takes him to the councils, he makes a show in order to flood the boy with the attention he had never received. The throne, due to societal constructs, has been deeply tied for Aegon with love and self-worth. It is a gift from his parents and sign of belief in his capabilities. Jaehaerys is four, and hardly cares for any duty. He does not associate any of this with his father's love. But Aegon did not want him to grow feeling robbed of his inheritance, and of his parents' love, or think that his parents never fought for his rights. In him Aegon sees his little mirror, not yet tainted, not yet shattered, deserving of attention and titles he is able to bestow Jaehaerys as his father. Love is subjective, as is love language. Alicent and Aegon look at their same-sex children, and look at them as flowers to tend to. Flowers to make sure will not wilt the same way they feel they did. When they wilt regardless of their effort, it is the worst of grief. They have failed the next generation and somehow fell to the same trap of hurting them regardless. The mirror they thought they have is shattered and ruined, and they are left pained, at their breaking point...

"The gods punish us. They punish me." - Alicent Hightower, S2E2

And at the point of boiling.

"Fuck dignity. I want revenge." - Aegon II, S2E2

The stage is set for them to spiral further and further, now that hopes of healing the generational trauma had been robbed of them. The nuances of what they do next, I would only be able to explore in the future to come, but needless to say, mother and son are parallel lines, trying to navigate now that the ground had been robbed off their feet.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bright Eyes | 2

Part 1 2 3

Prince Aemond's marriage was borne out of necessity and political advantage. Let it never be said that he did not know duty, for duty was what kept Aemond Targaryen grounded. But in truth, the prince felt cheated by the match, for he felt his wife was getting scraps as her dowry. After all, she was chosen for him because of her family's wealth and resources. It was then rather scandalous when the icy prince became temperate to his bride.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage au, reluctant lovers ig, angst, family problems, typos, etc.

A/N: i'm finally posting the next parts because I finally finished p3 T_T HAHA This is part of the 'house of the dragon big bang celebration' that's also available on AO3 and my art was made by @ewanmitchellcrumbs <;3 yuh

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

I rap on Aemond's office door and rub my hands together as I wait.

"Enter."

I turn the knob and walk inside, "lord-husband."

Aemond lifts his gaze from his table. He spares me a second glance and turns back to his papers, "mmm."

I make my way towards him, hands clasped together in front of me. I stand there for a second, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. I could not make out his task and so I keep my silence, waiting for him to finish.

"Speak," he urges impatiently.

I flinch.

He apparently does not like that.

Aemond does not lift his gaze from documents.

I clear my throat, "I wanted to tell you that my mother and aunt will be visiting."

His brows furrow. He turns to me, "again?"

I lick my lips and rest my hands by my belly, "they've sent a raven. They are to bring me herbs to aid with conception, amongst other things. I suspect they wish to give me a lesson on mothering as well."

"Mothering?" Aemond's expression turns sour, "why in gods' name will they come here to do that?"

I purse my lips before answering, "it's been a month since we've wed. They were rather disappointed to know of the arrival of my womanly bleeding, and so they wish to help."

"And will they put a babe in you, wife?" Aemond raises a brow.

I turn to my feet then back to him, "they are concerned for me, my prince."

"Their concern is overbearing. They were here seven days ago," he gathers the papers and places them in a leather folder. He then stores the folder in his cabinet, "before they've even settled back in their houses, they've come again."

I release a breath and rub the back of my arm. That was the truth, plainly spoken. Still, I did not want to speak against my mother or aunt, nor did I want to stoke Aemond's annoyance. Instead, I smile and explain, "I will make sure to entertain them so not to interrupt you."

Aemond knits his brows and stands from his chair. The sound of it skidding back makes me cringe. He walks over to me as he says, "I've already been interrupted."

I suddenly feel guilty for bringing this up at this moment.

"When are they coming?"

I take in his annoyed features as he comes to my side. I rock on the soles of my feet and mutter, "later today."

Aemond's lone eye widens, "what?"

"They..." I sigh, "they did not yet leave King's Landing and booked lodging nearby."

Aemond's face falls. He releases an exasperated breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives me a look, "and when did they send a raven?"

"... last night."

Aemond mutters something I've learned to be a curse word in High Valyrian, though I'm not sure exactly what it translates to.

I follow after him when he walks out of the room. I do not say anything, though I was rather agitated because of his reaction.

I wanted to explain to him that my mother and her sister has been this way since I was younger. They needed everything to be perfect, for wives had to be perfect. I grew up trying to uphold their standards, so the idea that I've simultaneously disappointed them to a point where they have to over and do something about it, as well as upset my husband because that they are coming to me, makes me want to retch.

"How long will this mothering lesson take?" Aemond asks.

I rush to his side and give him a look, "if I am careful not to trigger their sermons, an hour or two."

Aemond blows air out of his cheeks, "then I will go for a ride on Vhagar."

I purse my lips at the thought but nod, "I shall see you off."

"As you'd like," he mutters, not once looking at me.

"Aemond."

Aemond and I stop at the end of the hall.

I bow and smile at the man before us, "Lord Hightower."

"Grandsire," Aemond addresses.

Otto looks at the two of us and nods in regard, "I was heading to your office to see what's become of the plans I've entrusted to you."

I turn to Aemond when he does not respond immediately. I watch him purse his lips and huff through his nostrils.

"I'm nearly done. I simply wished to clear my mind a moment and get some fresh air," he motions to me, "my lady-wife is going to see me off on Vhagar."

Otto turns to me.

I offer his grandsire a smile, "he's been working tirelessly as of late. I think it will be good for him to take a break, my lord."

Aemond flattens his lips and nods.

Otto shifts his gaze back to the prince. He nods and gives a smile that does not meet his eyes, "I do hope you enjoy your ride, prince Aemond."

He nods, "thank you, my lord."

With that the two of us walk away.

Aemond sighs, "be sure not to trigger your mother and aunt's--"

We freeze when we hear women's voices laughing and chattering from afar. I turn to Aemond instinctively. He looks at me like he was ready to jump out of the window. My face falls when he actually walks towards the window and opens it. In my panic, I grab his arm and repel his movements, "my prince, please!"

Aemond shoots me a look then turns to his arm. He takes a moment before speaking, "what are you doing?"

I stare at him.

There is a sound of a passing carriage. Aemond's mind click, "I'm not going to jump," he says with annoyance.

Upon hearing this, I release his arm and take a step back from him.

Aemond shakes his head, "do you honestly think I would risk my life merely to avoid those women?"

I press my lips together.

He narrows his one eye, "you are aware I ride Vhagar, the largest dragon in all of the kingdoms."

I nod quickly, "yes. Indeed, my prince-"

"Then why do you insult me by insinuating I would jump out of the window to flee my-"

His words are cut short when he hears voices calling out my name. I stiffen and look over my shoulder. I reach out to Aemond's shoulders, urging him away. I turn to him and mutter, "you should go the other way."

Aemond raises a brow, grumbling, "and why would I do that?"

"You remember last time. They made you come with me to the maester and watch the whole time I was being examined."

"Well," he grunts, "that was a necessary occasion. I would not have known that you have unpleasant reactions to lavender and citrus had I not."

The thought gladdens me for a moment, but then I am overwhelmed by dread when I hear footsteps and louder calls of my name.

Soon enough, my mother and aunt are upon us.

We greet them, they greet us.

I allow them to coddle me then give me backhanded compliments. Aemond watches the whole time, then finally excuses himself, saying he had to attend to his dragon, but the ladies dug their nails into his arm, literally. I watched as the prince was cornered into staying with us. Mentioning that the Queen had endorsed this meeting really tied Aemond's hands behind his back.

Now, we were both imprisoned in the solar, listening to the two matrons muse about things that could help with conception, none of which were methods we had not already heard of from other people.

Aemond tuned out the blabbering, opting to stand by the window, looking out of the keep where he could have been right now had he just jumped from the window.

"And we've bought you some oranges," my mother says.

I watch as she motions to the last pouch on the table that I had not yet opened.

Aemond knits his brows. He remains leaned by the window but averts his attention inside the room.

I straighten from my seat and pour out the contents of the brown bag onto the table. There were various objects before me: teas, herbs, oils, clothes, toys, and now fruit.

I turn to my mother and smile. I say for the twentieth time, "thank you."

"It's all the way from Dorne, niece," my aunt says with a smile, "I saw them in the market and bought some for you. I remembered how it helped me during my time carrying your cousins."

I smile at her, "how kind of you, my lady."

Aemond straightens from his spot as the two older women begin to reminisce. He recognizes the story; it was one they had told the last time they were here. He watches as I smile and nod regardless of this. He wonder how many times this story must have been recounted.

I smile at him when he walks over.

My aunt's story is cut off short when Aemond reaches for a vial on the table. He uncorks it and gives it a whiff. He turns to me, "lilac?"

Before I can respond, my mother does so for me, "lavender."

Aemond turns to her and corks the vial. He places it back on the table and hums, "lavender."

We lock gazes for a second then he walks back to his spot by the window.

A whole hour passes before my mother and aunt leave.

When they do, I am wholeheartedly relieved.

"You're going to eat this?"

I turn to Aemond as he walks over to table and grabs the orange. I spare him a glance and begin to tidy the table, "no."

"Then why did you accept it?"

I knit my brows, "my aunt troubled herself in procuring it. How could I say reject?"

"How could you accept, knowing you body rejects it?" he places the orange down and motions, "and the lavender. From your own mother."

I instinctively take the vial and push it aside with the oranges, "she does not know."

"Then why didn't you tell her? What mother wants to harm her child?"

"She does not want to harm me. She did not harm me," I turn to him, "I'll simply give the oranges and the lavender away. It'll be as though I was never given it."

"But you were," he retorts, "and you did nothing. What if someone had done the same to our child? Would you not say anything then either?"

"That's not the same."

"If you can't protect your body now, how will you protect it when you're carrying my child, or when they are born."

I take in a breath, "evidently, I am unharmed, my prince. And even now you are here also caring for me."

Aemond scoffs, "you think I can coddle you like they do?" He leans down, "I have an entire kingdom to look after, and I do not have time to mother the woman who should be mothering my children."

With that, he pulls back and walks off. I watch him as he heads for the door, "where are you-"

"I wanted to ride Vhagar, and now I will," he mutters just before exiting the room.

I huff and turn my attention back to the table. I tidy everything up and place the oranges and lavender into a separate pouch. I gather everything and head to my chambers.

I stop when I hear my name get called.

I smile at the approaching man and curtsy, "my lord."

Otto walks over to me, brows furrowed, "what is all of that?"

"My mother and aunt brought them for me."

He raises a brow, "have the servants bring them to your room." He immediately calls out to the hall for a servant then turns back to me.

I offer him a smile and thank him.

"Where is your lord-husband?"

"He is... still on dragonback."

Otto looks at the pouches in my hand and takes them from me, "you wouldn't happen to know about the plans I tasked to him. I need them now, finished or not."

"He keeps them in a file in his office, my lord. Did you check?"

Before he replies, a servant girl comes forward. She greets us and Otto immediately hands her the pouches. Once his hands were free, he turns back to me and says, "I did, but I've not the patience nor the time to find which drawer it's stored. If you know where it is, I would appreciate it if you brought it to me."

I bow my head in regard, "of course, Lord Hightower."

Otto nods, "good girl," he walks off, "I trust that you do so in haste."

"Oh, my lord!" I grab one of the pouches from the servant and check its contents.

Otto turns to me.

I hand him the pouch of oranges and lavender, "I cannot have these, so you should have them instead."

The man eyes the pouch and takes it from me. He checks its contents then nods in regard.

I nod back and smile, "I will find your plans at once."

I instruct the servant girl to take my things to my chambers and I head to Aemond's office.

It doesn't take much for me to find the plans Lord Hightower required because I remember where Aemond stored them away.

I glance upon the files and realize it was a list of complaints from lords and what the crown would offer to do for them. Some of the proposals were rather farfetched, some of them were effective but expensive. I take a separate piece of paper and write down some of the solutions I could think of, especially in parts where Aemond did not put anything.

I do so as quickly as possible and head to Otto's office. Before I do, think of leaving a note in case Aemond heads to his office looking for the papers.

When I get to Lord Hightower's office, he was preoccupied with his work so doesn't spare me a glance when I come in. He does mutter a quick thanks when I give him the plans.

Later, when I was about to get ready for bed, Aemond finally comes back. He bursts into the room and immediately barks, "you gave my grandsire the plans?!"

"He asked for them. He said he needed them, finished or no-"

"But they were not finished!"

"They are finished," I correct.

Aemond is about to speak but then he stops himself. He shakes his head, "what?"

"I wrote some alternative plans on a separate piece of paper."

Aemond's eye widens, "you what?"

Before I can explain any further, he is out the door again. I huff and follow after him, "Aemond!"

"You meddled with official business of the crown," he hisses, "and you've posed as me while doing it!"

He quickly makes his way down the hall. I have to sprint to keep up with him and gather my skirts in my hand.

"Grandsire," Aemond calls the moment he opens the office door.

I release a breath and heave through my nostrils, following after my husband as he walks into the room. I watch as Otto barely lifts his eyes from his paper, "yes? Need anything?"

Aemond stops in front of his desk, "the plans. My wife said you asked her to give them to you, finished or not."

"Yes," Otto says simply, "they're here," he flips a page, "well done."

It takes a moment for those words to register, and when they do, Aemond's eye widens. He stands in disbelief.

I look at him and his grandsire. A moment passes and I decide to take his arm, muttering we shouldn't disturb Lord Hightower anymore.

"Wait, the plans were well done?" Aemond asks.

Otto stops what he was doing. He looks at Aemond then sighs, "they were rushed but better than what I've gotten from others."

Aemond's lips part.

Otto raises a brow, "do you expect a prize for it?"

The prince turns to me then back to the man, "I didn't do those pla-"

"Don't be silly!" I cut him off, "you did the plans as well as you could."

Aemond eyes me as I pull him close.

"Prince Aemond attended to a lot of husbandly duties, which was why he had little time to attend to that," I smile, "I am glad to hear that his plans are still well done regardless."

Otto turns to me, Aemond, then his papers, "you should continue to direct your efforts into producing children."

I give a chuckle that no one reciprocates. I tug Aemond back, "good night then, my lord."

Otto hums, once again not sparing us a glance.

I release a sigh once we exit the office.

"What kind of proposals did you give?" Aemond asks.

I turn to him.

I do not get to respond when he presses, "why didn't you let me say it was your doing?"

Though his questioning was rather hostile, I offer him a smile, "they were proposals you would have thought of anyway. Your grandsire was pleased. Why change that?"

Aemond pulls his arm out of my grip. We stop to stare at each other in the middle of the hall.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing-"

"I'm not doing anything besides doing my duty as your wife."

Aemond's jaw hardens. He looks me up and down, "what did you do with the lavender and oranges?"

"I gave them to Lord Hightower."

Aemond furrows his brows. He stares at me for a moment, debating my words as he did, then walks off.

I allow him a few paces head start before following after him.

[pearl-star]

It's Not My Job

I had written and had this story finished back in August of last year, but just never got around to posting it. I revisited it again yesterday and decided to just go ahead and post it. It's crossed posted to my AO3 if if you would prefer reading it there, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54107548. (Also, fair warning, this fic is 10K words long. I didn't feel like dividing it up into different chapters so here it is in its entirely.

Summary: After becoming too stressed out from her class rep duties, Marinette talks to the other class reps about the work she’s been doing, hoping for some help. In a few moments, she discovers that none of the work she’s been assigned to do is what she should be doing as class rep. And when she goes to Miss Bustier only for her teacher to threaten her, her friends and family finally decide that enough is enough and take the issue to the higher ups.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was on her last legs. The swell of akumas over the past month was bad enough, but the extra work that came with it just made her life so much harder. On top of her regular school work and make-up work from missed classes, she had to handle her class rep duties as well. She had to be an example, help her classmates when Chloe acted up, check essays and homework, and do her other general class rep tasks.

 Not only that, but she had to hatch out a whole plan for the class trip. Not just a general idea but the specifics of where they would stay, the exact activities they would do, how they would get there and travel around, and so on. She also had to plan out the fundraising activities, and had to do enough of them otherwise she would have to put in the rest of the money herself. Chloe had no issues with that in the past, but she was also rich. Marinette couldn’t exactly use her parent’s credit card to get it all situated. 

Alya, by her sense of duty as both her friend and class deputy, tried helping her out but for some reason wasn’t allowed. She could help instruct people once the plans were made, but she couldn’t be a part of the planning process. Otherwise, according to Miss Bustier, the plans would have to be redone completely. The blogger had suggested working on it together secretly, but Marinette was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk Miss Bustier finding out and for her to demand that the plans had to be redone. So for now, the bluenette was working on her own.

Everyone in class had noticed the toll the extra work was doing on her. She barely made it to class on time and was always the last to leave. Her bookbag was stuffed with papers with notes and plans. She always had her shoulders slumped, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and her eye bags were barely being covered by her makeup. She never smiled unless Miss Bustier told her to be a better example, in which case she would stitch on a mechanical smile similar to that of Adrien’s model smile.

The model, for his part, was freaking out over the fact that the sweetest and most happy girl in class (besides Rose, who is just a sparkling ball of pink, glittery sunshine) was struggling. He went so far as to get her coffee order from Alya and made sure to bring one in daily, as well as leave a thermos of heavily sugared black tea on her desk after lunch. The fact that Marinette wasn’t reacting to Adrien’s actions with anything more than a thank you, with no stuttering or blush in sight, proved how tired she really was.

Marinette’s sole goal was to catch up with all of this work as fast as she could, otherwise she would get behind again and be stuck in this loop forever. So when she was asked to attend a lunch out with the other class reps, she hesitated. She didn’t really have time to do much of anything. Even patrols had been cut down, something her partner had insisted on when she almost fell off a building when she zoned out mid jump. Still, maybe they could help her.

Miss Bustier had said that planning the class trip and all that was only the job of the class rep, so her getting advice from the other class reps shouldn’t be against the rules. So Marinette found herself that Friday walking to the cafe where Aurora said to meet. Once she got there, the weather girl waved her over to an open chair next to her. 

As she walked over, she looked at the group. Marinette knew who most of the class reps were, but never got the chance to talk to any of them. Some were in the art club with her, but they tended not to discuss class rep duties there. 

“Sorry I’m late.” The bluenette apologized, sliding into the empty chair. “I had to show Miss Bustier my progress for the class trip.” 

There was silence, and then.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, my plans for the class trip. I’ve narrowed it down to a place and found a hotel that we could stay at, but I still need to figure out travel plans and the exact activities.” Marinette looked at the confused faces around her. Then a thought came to mind. “Am I late on this too?! Miss Bustier only brought it up to me at the end of last month, so I thought that I had plenty of time still but-”

“No it’s not that.” Kimberly said, cutting Marinette off from her panic. “It’s just that… class reps don’t plan out their class trips.”

Marinette blinked at the news. She had been class rep for the past two years. The first year, she didn’t have to be as in depth with the class trip. She proposed a general trip idea, fundraising ideas, and helped coordinate the fundraisers, but this year Miss Bustier said that class reps had to be more hands-on with the trip. The teacher had even given her a packet on the new rules.

“What do you mean? Yes they do. It’s in the newest handbook.”

“What handbook?”

Marinette dug in her book bag before pulling out the packet and handing it to Claude. He flipped through the pages, scanning them while a few other class reps looked over his shoulders. As he read, his frown deepened. 

“This isn’t right. The handbook has been updated last year, but not in this way. It actually had deputies taking on more of the load to help lessen the stress of class reps, as well as a newly added duty to help plan out relaxation days throughout the year to try and lessen the chance of akumas during testing weeks. Where did you get this from?”

“Miss Bustier gave it to me and explained it all. She did say how class reps were now responsible for helping to lower the class’s stress.”

All of the class reps looked at each other, before Aurora finally spoke up.

“Marinette… I don’t know why Miss Bustier gave this to you, but it isn’t right. I don’t have the handbook on me right now but there is one in Ms. Meedeveli’s classroom that I can show you once we get back to the school.”

Marinette paused, before nodding and thanking the weather girl. Slowly the conservation changed to something else, but the bluenette’s mind couldn’t stop from drifting. Why would Miss Bustier give her the wrong packet? Maybe the school had made this version and then changed it, but didn’t inform the teacher of the change. Marinette did become class rep for the first time last year, so it is possible that Miss Bustier went and asked for the newest handbook early so that she could have it at the start of her role.

The pigtailed girl was finally able to relax. That had to be it. Miss Bustier thought that this was the correct version and just didn’t know. Once she gets the new copy, they can figure out how planning for the school trip should really go.  

After lunch she walked back to school with all of the reps, and then split off from the group as she followed Aurora to Ms. Meedeveli’s room. The science teacher was already in the room, working on writing something on the board for the lesson later on.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Meedeveli. Do you have a copy of the class rep handbook?”

“Good afternoon to you too, and yes I do. It’s over on the wall next to the classroom rules.”

“Do you think Marinette can borrow it for the afternoon? There was a bit of a mix-up with the handbook in her homeroom.”

The teacher stiffened at that, and Marinette was worried that she would say no. Instead, once the woman realized the bluenette’s eyes on her, she shook her head.

“Go ahead. And feel free to keep it in your homeroom, Marinette. I can pick up another copy later. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Once Aurora handed her a packet, a by far smaller one than the previous one, Marinette nodded.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Meedeveli. I’ll see you later in class.”

She gave her thanks to the blonde as well before walking out of the room, looking over the packet. She was in such a rush that she didn’t notice the usually strict teacher give her a look of pity. 

As Marinette read through the packet, she felt less and less stressed already. It was definitely much different than the one she was given, and would absolutely help her catch up on all her other activities. Without having to plan the class trip, she would have so much more freetime. All she would have to do is tell Miss Bustier of the mix up and then she’ll be good. 

She decided to wait until after school though, since class was about to start and she didn’t want to be the reason they had more makeup work. However, once class was over and she talked to Miss Bustier, she got a rude surprise.

“What do you mean this packet is wrong? I got this from Ms. Meedeveli’s room. All the other class reps said that the handbook you gave me was the wrong one.”

“Yes, the other class reps have a different handbook, but you need to follow the one I gave you. You’re my star student, Marinette. You can handle more work.”

“I can’t though.” Marinette nearly cried, before composing herself. “I’m really struggling with just homework with all the akumas interrupting class time. And the handbook you gave me said that Alya can’t even help me with all of these extra duties. I’m gonna fall behind at this rate.”

“Now Marinette, that would be your own fault. You need to manage your time better. Also you do need to help prevent akumas. That thing in the other handbook we can include in ours. I want you to plan a destressing activity for the class to do by the end of next week. We can do a different one every week to keep things different.”

Upon hearing that more work was being put onto her, she opened her mouth to refuse before being silenced.

“I really wouldn’t want to have a talk with your parents about you becoming a problem to our classroom, so make sure to keep up your good job as class rep okay?”

Miss Bustier was… threatening her? The bluenette was so shocked that she could only nod, numbly leaving the classroom. As soon as she turned the corner, she bumped into Alya.

“Oh. Hi, Alya.”

“Marinette… did Miss Bustier really say that?”

It was then that Marinette realized how shaken up her friend was.

“What do you mean?”

“She really-” Alya started, before looking at the direction to the classroom door in contemplation. It seemed like she made a decision, as she pulled Marinette away.

“We’re telling your parents. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

The bluenette got a sense of dread with Alya’s suggestion, realizing that Alya had heard some if not all of the conversation she just had. The reminder of Miss Bustier’s earlier threat rang in her mind.

“No. Miss Bustier-”

“She’s forcing you to do more work. Quite frankly, I was about to ‘accidentally’ hide some of the work I’ve been doing for the class trip in with your notes so that you’d actually be able to get some sleep. But now? I can’t just sit by and let this happen to my best friend.”

“But my parents won’t believe me.”

“Don’t you have both packets? Show that to your parents. Besides, it's the entire class’s words against Miss Bustier. Your parents will believe us.”

Marinette still didn’t like the sound of it. She’d never gone against her teacher before. But Alya was hard to stop once she got an idea in her head, so the bluenette was dragged to the bakery.

Her mom was handling the counter, and was finishing up checking out a customer. Once they left, she finally noticed them.

“Good afternoon girls. Feel free to take a pastry on your way up.”

“Actually Mlle. Cheng, we need to speak to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Alya nudged Marinette forward, but when it was clear that she wasn’t going to talk, Alya took charge. She grabbed the two different class rep handbooks, walking forward and giving them to the women. 

“Miss Bustier has been forcing Marinette to take on more work as class rep. When Marinette asked her about it, she threatened to call you two up and tell you that she’s causing issues.”

Sabine blinked at Alya’s words, before her confusion was swapped for a blank stare. Her eyes shifted from the packets in her hands to her daughter. 

“Marinette, is this true?”

“We-Well I mean, I’m sure Miss Bustier didn’t really mean-”

“Marinette. Please tell me the truth.”

Yep. Her mom was definitely mad at her. She sighed and decided to just take the bullet.

“It’s true, but I-”

“What has she been making you do?”

Marinette flinched at the anger sounding clearly in her mother’s tone. She looked down at her hands. Alya kept a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her. When it was clear that the bluenette had no intention of speaking, the blogger took over.

“She’s been forced to plan the whole class trip by herself. Where we’re going, the hotel we’re staying in, activities we’re doing, the exact travel plans, fundraising, all of that. I wasn’t even allowed to do any of the planning process with her.”

“Anything else?”

“I had to help with grading some things.” Marinette finally added, sighing in defeat. “I also had to help when Chloe acted up.” She leaned back into Alya’s touch, causing the redhead to wrap her arm around her and give her a tight squeeze.

Sabine looked between the two girls and then back at the packets in her hands. She frowned in thought at the clear size difference between the two.

“I’d take it that this is the real one?” She asked, holding up the smaller packet.

“That’s the one that the other class reps use. I got it from Ms. Meedevelei this afternoon.”

“I’m gonna look these over during my break. That will be in… thirty minutes. For now I think you two should grab a treat and relax upstairs. Would you two be okay staying here in case I need to ask you something else?”

The two girls nodded, grabbing a pastry and heading back and up to the apartment. Marinette fiddled with the hem of her jacket, thinking about what had just happened. Alya sighed and pulled her towards the chaise.

“Don’t worry, let your parents handle this.”

“But what if I get in trouble in school? Miss Bustier could do to Principal Damcoles and say that I’m not cooperating and-”

“And then everyone will tell him off if he tries to punish you. Miss Bustier threatened you. That’s a whole other thing to consider, above her dumping a bunch of work onto you and making you do it by yourself.” Alya scowled. “I don’t understand that part. Why did she not want me to help with anything?”

Marinette didn’t have an answer to that. If Miss Bustier truly wanted her to do all of these things, then having Alya help her would have made life so much easier. Why not let someone else who was willing to help take some work off her shoulders do it? The redhead shrugged and reached in her bookbag.

“I guess it doesn’t matter right now. I know your mom said to relax, but I also know you can’t do physics for the life of you so let me help you out while I can.”

The bluenette felt tears prick up at the offer of receiving help, but she quickly wiped those away before her friend could notice. They were so distracted with the work that they didn’t hear the muffled shouts from below. 

“That woman did what?!”

“She threatened our daughter. All because Marinette asked her why the manual she was given as class rep was different from every other class reps’ handbook.”

The two adults were hard to anger. Their life was full of simple joys, being able to live peaceful lives despite running a business and being in a time when a magical terrorist was in their city. But let it not be said that they could never get angry. Because right now, the only other thought in their minds besides concern for their daughter was the anger towards the girl’s teacher. 

“I want to talk to Miss Bustier today. I know that Alya can be dramatic sometimes, but Marinette would never lie. Especially with something like this.”

“We can close the bakery. I want to be there as well.”

Sabine thought about it for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. I’m just gonna do a phone call for now. Besides, we can’t just close the bakery today. I’ll update you once I’m done talking to her.”

She thought that it would be a fifteen minute phone call max. Just her asking to confirm things and then asking for them to be changed to how they should be. She didn’t expect Miss Bustier to try and defend herself. Yes, Marinette was a bright kid and an excellent student, but that didn’t mean that she should be doing the work of her teacher. The more she tried to defend her daughter, the more the teacher defended her own actions. Sabine ended the call more frustrated than before, and she decided to instead talk to Mr. Damocles. Because surely he would be able to correct the teacher? After all, what Ms. Bustier was doing was an abuse of her power.

Alas, Sabine ended her night early. Both adults saw it best to just close the bakery early. Heaven forbid if that principal or teacher decided to pay them a visit. The cup of chamomile tea was not helping her to calm down in the slightest, and her husband paced around as he ranted. The woman herself, while not outwardly expressing her thoughts, did silently stew on the issue.

How dare those people do this to her child. It wasn’t a big deal? It absolutely was. Neither parent had missed the way Marinette was getting more sluggish and tired. It was part of the reason why they had stopped making her work in the bakery as of late. All that extra work was affecting her studies and normal life, and neither of those adults cared? It was an outrage! But who else could she turn to?

It was then that an idea struck her. Sabine grinned, leaving her half finished tea on the table and walking off.

“Calling them back is not going to do anything. I think we need to go in person and demand that they stop this.”

“Oh, I’m not calling them. I have a better idea.”

If those two wouldn’t listen to her, then she would have to get someone who would make them see the error of their ways. Sabine sat down at the computer, typing out a very detailed email before sending it off. She continued to check her inbox throughout the weekend, waiting for a response, but there wasn’t one. Not until Sunday afternoon. 

Dear Madame Cheng,

We have reviewed your complaints regarding Madame Bustier and Mister Damocles, and have officially filed for an investigation to take place. We will begin the investigation starting tomorrow, Monday XX/XXXX, and will inform you of any updates as well as the results. If you are worried about any misaction towards your daughter by Madame Bustier because of this investigation, please let us know. We will be happy to make arrangements for her to be situated in a different homeroom both during and after the course of this investigation. 

We ask that you and your husband be available during some point this week for a meeting to discuss the problem more in depth. We will try our best to be courteous and inform you ahead of time when we will be paying you a visit. If you have anything urgent to report before our meeting, please do not hesitate to reach out either through email or using the phone number listed below. We promise you that your concerns will be taken seriously, and the investigation will not end until a solution is made.

Jon Garnier, Dupont School Board Member

Sabine smiled at the email once she finished reading it. It was done. With the school board involved, Miss Bustier would be forced to take off the workload from her daughter. She sent a response email to him, thanking him and informing him that he could come to the bakery at any time and she would be sure to be available to talk to him. 

There were some other things, some very concerning things, that Alya had filled her and Tom in on Friday before the girl went home, but Sabine didn’t add those in. As awful as they were, they could wait to be discussed once she was face to face with someone.

Marinette was told that things were being handled, but the girl still seemed worried. She was given a choice to switch homerooms temporarily or even just stay home for a day or two, but she rejected both. Not only was Marinette behind on classwork, but she still needed to continue her class rep duties, even if her parents didn’t seem happy when she said that. Reluctantly, her parents sent her off to school on Monday.

Alya made sure to pick her up, trying to offer her support and then try to distract her with little success. It was very clear to anyone that Marinette had not gotten any rest, despite the reassurance from her parents and Alya. She was told not to do any of the class rep work and instead just relax and focus on her other school work, but she wasn’t able to feel calm. Her anxiety at what would happen now that her parents had talked to Miss Bustier and Mr. Damcoles kept her from sleeping. So she worked on not just all the extra class work, but also her guardian work. Tikki was not happy with her, but there was only so much that the kwami could do to stop her. 

The two girls slowed down a bit as they approached their friends by the steps. Both boys eyed the bluenette with great concern with one of them being… a bit more dramatic about it.

“Marientte! What happened? Why do you look more tired now?” 

The blond fretted, handing the cup of coffee he had to Nino to hold as he examined the girl, holding onto her face with one hand as he lightly touched the bags until her eyes with his finger. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Couldn’t sleep? You look more tired than I do when I have a night and morning shoot back to back. Maybe you should go home and rest for the day?”

“I can’t. I’m already behind on all my work. Besides, as class president it’s my duty to show up.”

The pigtailed girl couldn’t say it with as much conviction as she once might have, due to how much energy that would have taken. Even talking was just wearing her out. How she would be able to handle Chole’s inevitable fits, she didn’t know, or really care about right now. None of the trio were happy to hear that, and even the students who fluttered around looked at the girl with a mix of concern and pity. 

Adrien had always wanted to be able to have a straight conversation with the budding designer. One where she wouldn’t be so flustered that she would have to run off. But if she would have to be like this for him to get that? He would have never wished for it. For now he turned and took the coffee cup back from Nino to hand it to the girl.

“Here you go. If you refuse to go home then at least have this.” 

The small smile she gave him was genuine, and Adrien only wished that it had come at a time when she wasn’t so tired.

“Thank you. I need to get some things done before class starts.” Before anyone could stop her, Marinette started her walk up the stairs. Alya was immediately on her trail.

“She’s wearing herself out. I want to be able to help her more but…” The blond murmured, wishing that he knew what was happening to her. He knew that she was stressed out, but surely there had to be something else he could do besides keeping her caffeinated. Nino patted his shoulder, still looking at where the girls disappeared off to. 

“You’re doing what you can. Besides, Alya’s figured things out.”

“Figured what out? Marinette is still… like that.”

“She didn’t tell you? With the way Alya went off in the group chat and then to me, I thought for sure you would have known.”

Alya did what? Adrien had been on his phone, and he hadn’t noticed any messages coming in at all. Checking his texts, the last message from the class chat had been someone commenting on Marinette’s behavior, but it was just a message of concern from Rose. Nothing from Alya. Nino looked over his shoulder and let out an oh.

“You must not have been added to the chat. Here, let me do that real quick.”

In a few seconds, a request to join a group chat came in. Clicking accept, he quickly scrolled to the top of the conversation before pausing. He blinked once, twice, then screamed.

“She did WHAT to Marinette?!”

“Yeah, it happened on Friday. Alya overheard it and went to Marinette’s parents. They-” Nino went on, but Adrien drowned him out.

He couldn’t believe it. He knew that Marinette was stressed out about her class rep position and he saw how Miss Bustier treated Marinette sometimes, but this? That woman just decided to threaten her? A growl sounded out, and it barely registered in his mind that it came from him.

“That’s it. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m-”

“Adrien.” Nino said, grabbing onto his shoulders and snapping him out of his thoughts. “You need to calm down. Trust me, everyone is upset about this, but you can’t get akumatized.”

He tried to calm himself, but it was hard. This whole time this was happening without him knowing. He was a failure to his princess, his everyday Ladybug. Did his partner have something like this happening in her life and he was failing her too? He knew that she was more tired lately, due to having more work in her civilian life on top of guardian work but she didn’t give specifics. He had tried offering to do some of the guardian work too, but she had declined citing how it would be too dangerous to do it in the open and they had nowhere private to go. Maybe he should have pushed more?

“Dude, calm down.” He instructed again, once again jostling him from his thoughts. “Alya already told Marinette’s parents. They have things covered.”

The question of “how” popped into his mind, but before he could voice it he spotted two adults walking up the steps. Adults who he did not recognize, but felt like they held an air of authority to them.

“Trust me,” Nino said, and it was then that the blonde noticed his friend’s knowing look. “They have things covered.” 

Adrien knew that there was something else to Nino’s words, but decided against asking exactly what. For now he would simply keep a closer eye on both Marinette and Miss Bustier. No one would be allowed to hurt his princess on his watch.

Inside the school, whispers had already begun. There had already been some talk about the bluenette before. With her being one of the only two people in the akuma class who hasn’t gotten akumatized yet, they figured that the noticeable stress she was under would due her in. 

But now the whispers were revolving around the reason for the two adults who entered the building. A man and a woman, both dressed in business attire and wearing the same stern expression. They came in to get answers, and they would get just that. 

Walking straight to Mr. Damocles' office, they gave a sharp knock before letting themselves in. The man, for his part, seemed confused by someone bursting into his office. His confusion quickly turned to concern as he recognized the people standing before him.

“We’re here from the school board. There’s been a recent complaint filed and we will be investigating it.” The woman’s tone left no room for an argument. “I’ll be discussing this issue with you while Mr. Garnier does an observation in one of your classrooms. Depending on what happens, we may have to pull some students out of class to ask them a few questions.”

Mr. Damocles only had enough time to realize what the recent complaint was before the man walked out. The woman sat down in the chair across his desk, setting a file in front of him. 

“So, tell me about your response to the mistreatment of one Miss Marinette Dupain Cheng?”

There would be no use lying. As required with all staff members, their school issued phones recorded every phone call that took place on them. It was meant to protect them if a parent tries to deny something that they said over the call, but in this case it would be used against him. He cleared his throat, trying to figure out a way to save himself. He remembered that last time these people came in they said that then was his final warning, but surely he would be fine. He was an excellent principal, and this issue wasn’t big enough for him to be fired, surely. So he began his defense.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Gariner walked through the hallway, trusting that Mrs. Monet would be able to handle things. She was slightly biased in this case, as she had a soft spot for the victims in cases like this, but she was a professional above all else so she should be able to prove well into finding out exactly what Mr. Damocles’ thoughts were. 

Truthfully, they should have done an investigation at this school sooner. They had seen the news reports about the students in this class, but since Hawkmoth was a new thing they had waited. He took his victims by using their emotions against them, and since uncontrolled emotions tended to run higher among adolescents they didn’t push investigating directly as their top priority. 

They had simply decided to send an email and request that something was done within the classrooms to allow for some form of relaxation or meditation to be done. That had gotten accepted without any issues, and they foolishly had allowed their attention to relax from the school. But now they noticed the repeated pattern of akumas forming from one specific class, and something had to be done.

Even without Madame Cheng’s email, they would have been investigating Miss Bustier and her class anyways. Of course, what was said in that email worried them. From what it sounded like, it seemed like Miss Bustier was fostering her work onto a student. That would be bad enough, but threatening said student to continue doing the work was an extra layer that they would have to address.

For now he tried to clear his thoughts, knocking once on the classroom door before walking in. The students were all whispering to themselves, but stopped once they saw his presence. He simply ignored them, turning to the confused teacher.

“My apologies for interrupting your classroom, Madame. The school board sent me to do your regular classroom observation.” It wasn’t true, but it would at least help to make her not mask her true behavior as much. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be showing off her real behavior though. She seemed a bit flustered, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ll just be sitting in the back. Please just go on with your lessons as you normally would.”

Without another word, he walked up the stairs and took a seat in the very back. The woman eyed him wearily, but called the class to attention anyways. Throughout the morning, he noticed all the students at some point or another looking back at him. 

The one that caught his attention though was one blonde student in the front. Not because he was looking at him, but because he was turning around to look at another student. Marinette Dupain Cheng, he had to presume. He did see her photo when looking into her file, but even without that he could tell that she was the student whose parents had made the complaint. The amount of papers that were on her desk, as well as how the other students occasionally looked over to her in concern was enough of an indicator. 

There were no major issues that had popped up, but there were a few times when he noticed Miss Bustier looking at Marinette. The first came when another student (Chloe Bourgeois, he remembered her from numerous reports before) made an insult to the girl. Instead of calling the student out, Miss Bustier looked over to Marinette and waited. When nothing happened, she opened her mouth before looking back at him and closing it again. Whatever she was going to say was instead replaced with her continuing the lesson as if nothing had happened. 

There were a few other times, when she mentioned the graded homework and a quiz and she looked over to the girl, only to quickly say that she would be passing them back tomorrow. He caught her looking back at him then too. It happened several other times, one notable one being when she mentioned the class’s end of the year trip. The way Marinette’s body stiffened when the teacher commented that all plans would be finished and presented on Friday was noticeable to everyone but the teacher. 

Another thing he noticed was the same blonde boy from before making to stand up, only for his desk mate to pull him back down and shake his head. It was easy enough to tell why he did that when they both looked back at him. He didn’t know if it was out of fear that they would be punished or if they were hoping he would do something.

He was going to do something, of course, Mr. Gariner would never allow for this kind of treatment to continue past today, but he was required to wait until the students left before talking to Miss Bustier directly about these issues. Of course, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t doing anything right now.

A few quick emails and texts got sent out and exchanged. Another member of the school board would be coming to help with asking the students and other teachers some questions regarding both Miss Bustier and Mr. Damocles. The principal had been warned not even a few months ago that he needed to have better control on his students and staff members. 

Those issues had all stemmed from one Miss Bourgeois who had caused issues and hurt students all while never facing any consequences. He was warned to not let a student get out of trouble by threatening to call her father. He was even told that if the mayor tried to actually follow through on the threats his daughter made, that he would be abusing his power and would be kicked out of his position. 

They hadn’t received any complaints since then, but it was a wonder if students had been making them and they never got received. That thought was also troubling. Not all people would consider turning to the school board for issues, not at first anyways. Contacting the teacher or principal was what families were encouraged to do. The issue needed to first be, or at least, attempted to be, dealt with at the school level before going up to the school board after all. 

It was meant to stop unneeded cases from clogging up and stopping them from being able to work on more pressing issues, but it could be possible that people didn’t bother trying to contact them. It could be that they were promised that everything would be settled, or even that the school board wouldn’t be able to help out anyways. Another thought was that they could have been threatened as well. If Miss Bustier made a threat to her one student without a second thought, was it possible that other students were coerced into keeping quiet? 

Once the bell rang for lunch, all the students were packing up and Miss Bustier said one final thing. 

“Marinette, please stay behind for a few minutes.”

Those words caused everyone in the class to stop what they were doing and look between the two. The tension was noticeable, and Mr. Gariner decided to settle things. Walking down the steps and towards the front, he addressed the teacher, not even having to raise his voice to be heard by the rest of the students in the pressing silence. 

“Actually, Miss Bustier, I need to discuss some things with you.” When she opened her mouth to refute, he pressed on. “You can discuss whatever it is with your student later on.”

Seeing how he wasn’t going to budge, Miss Bustier nodded. Marinette quickly walked out, the rest of the students following right behind her. Closing the door after the last student walked out he waited a few moments just to make sure that no one else was going to come in before turning to address the teacher.

“Please take a seat. This will be a long discussion.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was freaking out. Not only did she not get the chance to hand Miss Bustier the homework and quizzes she helped to grade and would be getting in trouble for that, but she also would need to finalize everything for the class trip before Friday. Even with all the work she did over the weekend, she still wasn’t close to done. 

She hadn’t been able to book anything since she wasn’t an adult, and even if she could bug her parents to help she wouldn’t be able to since they wouldn’t be going on the trip and whoever booked things had to be in attendance. 

That left the only choice being Miss Bustier. She debated sending her an email, but Tikki had actually been able to stop her from doing that, unplugging the computer and causing enough commotion that her parents came up and brought her downstairs to get away from the work laid out on her desk. Her hope was to ask the teacher before class but then she didn’t come into class until the start time. And she wasn’t able to meet with Miss Bustier during lunch since then the man from the school board needed to talk to her, so she would have to put it off until after school.

Right now Alya was dragging her off outside the school and towards her house. She didn’t register the conversation that Nino and Adrien were having behind them. It was when she almost stumbled and felt arms wrapping around her body to keep her upright, while she could see Alya bending down to pick up her dropped items, that she realized they were outside the bakery’s doors.

“Okay. You’re eating lunch and then you’re gonna relax. Maybe you should take a nap too.”

“Adrien?” She tried to turn to look at him, but his arms pulling her back to be flushed with his chest prevented her from being able to do more than glance at him from the corner of her vision. 

“You need to let her go dude. Unless you want to carry her inside.”

There was a pause, and it seemed for a second like he was actually going to do it. As he was adjusting his arms, Alya stopped him.

“Let’s just let Marinette walk. We’re here anyway.”

Adrien did let her go enough for her to walk forward, but kept his hand ghosting her back. The four walked in and headed up into the main part of the house. Marinette was sat down on the couch, held down by Adrien when she tried to grab the papers Alya was still holding.

“I need to work on the rest of the arrangements for the class trip.”

“Nope. That’s not your job.” Alya said, leaving no room for argument. Before Marinette could try though, the blogger walked out of the room with Nino in tow.

“Everything will be okay.” She turned and blinked at Adrien, who was still holding her. “I won’t let Miss Bustier hurt you again. I promise.”

“What do you-”

“I heard about Miss Bustier threatening you. I don’t care how I do it, I promise you I won’t let her get away with that.”

Marinette turned to better face him. Half of her brain was trying to mentally arrange things for the class trip while the other half was too tired to fully comprehend what all was happening. It still hadn’t even processed the fact that Adrien was going to carry her earlier. Before she could even attempt to understand what he was telling her now and how he knew, Alya and Nino walked back in with a bunch of food.

“You’re going to eat then you’re gonna take a nap until lunch is over.”

“But I need to get back to school before lunch is over.” If she was lucky, Miss Bustier would be done talking to the man from the school board. Then she could try and get things figured out in time for Friday. 

“Eat. Then sleep.” 

Alya pushed the plate of food onto her lap. Deciding that she could just sneak out after she got done eating, Marinette began to eat the sandwich Alya had made. During the whole time they ate, their eyes kept drifting back to Marinette. As soon as she was done eating and made to stand, they acted. 

Marinette’s brain was able to conjure up the question of if all her friends were physic or if they had discussed this plan in front of her and she just didn’t realize it, because they all acted in sync. Nino grabbed her plate and cup from her hands, moving out of the way while Adrien pulled her down to lay on the couch. Alya threw a blanket over her body and adjusted it as a pillow got placed under her head. 

“Nap time.”

“But-” 

“You will be stuck here until the end of lunch either way. You might as well just sleep.”

Marinette let out a huff, making to move only for a hand to press her down. She looked up at Adrien’s face as he loomed over her.

“I will lay on you if you try to resist Marinette.” 

That reminded her of Chat Noir. Even though he had canceled group patrols, and he took over her solo ones, she had decided to go out for one last weekend. She couldn’t help herself. She was anxious and just wanted to go out for a little bit. Still, once he realized she was out and hadn’t slept at all, he ran off before returning with a pillow and blankets. Somehow she ended up wrapped up in what she could only refer to as a blanket burrito with a pillow under her head and Chat Noir laying on top of her. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his purring. 

Of course there was no way that Adrien would do that. But he did. As soon as she tried to sit up again, he laid his chest on top of her’s. He was still kneeling on the ground, so it wasn’t all of his body on top of her, but it was enough weight that it kept her from moving.

“Sleep.” He said, turning his head to look at her. His breathing began to slow, and her body mimicked it without thinking. Soon she was out like a light. He didn’t want to move, but slowly lifted himself off her.

“How did you do that?” Nino asked, his voice in a whisper to keep the girl asleep. 

“I read that if you are with someone you both subconsciously match your breathing to theirs.” 

He didn’t say it, but he had specifically looked it up on the off chance that he would have to help Ladybug fall asleep without being transformed. His purring only happened in suit, after all. Before anything else could be said, Madame Cheng walked into the room. Adrien quickly leaned back, hoping that she didn’t notice him laying on top of her daughter. She opened her mouth to speak, but the three teens shushed her and waved her off. The woman smiled to see her daughter asleep, but the expression slowly dropped. 

“You three are wanted downstairs.”

“For what?”

Adrien resisted the urge to lay back down on top of Marinette and hold onto her. She was finally sleeping, and he wasn’t about to let her have any chance of waking up from her nap too soon.

“There’s someone from the school board who is interviewing the students in your class. She was interviewing me and Tom, but when I mentioned the four of you being here she said she wanted to interview you all now.”

“At the same time?”

“No. Tom and I went separately, so I imagine it would be the same for you three.”

“You two go down. I’ll wait here until one of you gets done.” 

Even if Adrien wasn’t the one to watch over Marinette the whole time, he could at least make sure she stayed asleep while Alya and Nino got interviewed. They nodded, and soon Adrien was left alone. He waited a few seconds before laying his head back onto the girl’s chest, smiling as he closed his eyes.

“Oh Plagg, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Marinette is just a very good friend.” 

Adrien let out a huff before looking up and glaring at his kwami. He really didn’t want to argue today, so he tried to close his eyes and ignore the god.

“If you think that will stop me, kid, you’re wrong. I-” Whatever Plagg was about to say was cut off. Adrien opened his eyes and looked up, to see him sporting a look of worry. Slowly lifting his head off Marinette’s chest and turned to look off where the kwami was starring. Nothing was there. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked, turning back around. What Adrien did not realize was that Tikki was floating right behind him, giving Plagg her signature death glare. 

My bug has had no rest at all. Her eyes said. If you stop her from being able to sleep because you’re too busy teasing your kitten and wake her up then I won’t hesitate to end you. 

“Nothing.” Plagg said out loud, not wanting to unleash Tikki’s wrath. He was concerned for her bug too, which was why he was trying to get his oblivious holder to realize his feelings so that she would be cared for on both sides of the mask. Of course, he could do that later when he wasn’t at risk of being destroyed. 

Confused, but deciding not to question it, Adrien laid his head back down and shut his eyes, falling asleep to the sounds of her gentle breaths. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing that Marinette noticed when she woke up, was the voices drifting into the room. She sat up and looked around, confused as to what she was doing in her living room. She turned around and looked over the couch in time to see her papa coming into the room with another woman. 

“I guess she woke up.” Her papa said, before addressing her. “Marinette, this is Mrs. Blanchet. She’s from the school board and is here to ask you some questions.”

Marinette was immediately confused and also worried. She noticed the woman’s professional attire and immediately went to smooth out her messy hair. Mrs. Blanchet didn’t seem to care though, as she walked over and took a seat on the chair across from the couch, not once giving any judgemental looks.

“Sorry about my appearance.” Marinette muttered.

“It’s quite alright. I’ve heard from your friends that you haven’t been able to rest, so it’s good that you got some sleep at least.”

She had spoken to her friends? The questions continued to build up. She knew that there was a man from the school board who was speaking to Miss Bustier, but that didn’t explain why there was this woman here and why she would speak to her friends. The answer finally snapped into place with the next thing she said.

“So, Ms. Dupain Cheng, please tell me about your experience with Mlle. Bustier. And please, be honest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is she okay?”

“Relax, dude, her parents are with her.”

“But she should have been done by now.”

The trio had long finished their interviews with Mrs. Blanchet and were sent back to school. Miss Bustier wasn’t in class, but a sub was brought in to cover for her. Mr. Fournier was allowing them to work quietly together on the assignment, or really was just letting them have some time to discuss what was going on. 

He knew that there would be whispering and notes being passed anyways, so it was better to simply let them go ahead with it so they could not feel so anxious about things. Besides, a few students were still out doing their interviews. It wouldn’t be fair to teach with several students missing due to the investigation.

“Should we call her?”

“Adrien, she is fine. We asked her parents to call us if something bad happens, remember?”

It was the only way they were able to get Adrien to leave the bakery. Even telling him that his father would be upset to find him skipping out on class didn’t get him moving. The two bespeckled teens tried to keep Adrien distracted with the worksheet they were giving, but his eyes kept snapping to the door each time it opened. 

More students returned, none of them being Marinette, and Adrien was at the point of considering if he could run out of the room and to the bakery without being pulled back by Nino. So far the only three students out of the room were the bluenette, Chloe, and Sabrina. 

But then Sabrina came back, and quietly explained to Mr. Fournier that Chloe wouldn’t be returning to class today. Adrien assumed that it was because Chloe didn’t want to bother returning to class, but if he was paying attention he might have noticed Sabrina’s wide eyes and flustered tone. As if she was just exposed to some harsh truth and still trying to comprehend it. 

By the time the door came open again, Adrien was standing up to run to the bakery. As soon as he spotted the familiar pigtails, he got in front of the girl and hugged her as quickly as he could.

“Is everything okay? Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Marinette, for her part, did get enough rest to comprehend some things. Not enough for her to be flustered around Adrien yet, but enough to realize how he got to her so quickly.

“Did you just… jump over your desk?”

“Dude.” Nino muttered, head in his hands.

“Um… no?” It was more of a question, because Adrien truly didn’t know if he did that or not.

“Please sit down. I need to make an announcement to the class.”

It was then that Adrien realized that Marinette wasn’t walking in alone. Behind her was another woman, one who he hadn’t seen before. It also registered in his mind that if he really did jump over a desk, not only did this woman see it but the rest of the class also did. He quietly went back to his seat, but not before making sure Marinette got seated in hers. 

“My name is Mrs. Monet and I am a member of the school board. As you know, we have been asking you questions regarding your teacher and your time here at Francoise Dupont. The school board doesn’t like to make rushed decisions, but we feel like this decision will be best for the students and other members of this school’s safety.” She took a pause before continuing. “Miss Bustier will no longer be your teacher.”

Before, if someone were to say that to the class, they would all be devastated and demand answers. However they had seen how she’s been to Marinette over the past couple weeks. Not just that, but once they heard about her threatening Marinette a lot of the love and respect they felt towards the teacher was burned out. Mrs. Monet had been expecting them not to be upset, and continued on with her speech.

“I am sure you might be confused as to what is happening, but I assure you that the school board makes all of its decisions with the school’s wellbeing in mind. We will be ensuring that this choice doesn’t harmfully impact your education. Mr. Fournier will be taking over as your sub for the rest of the school year. I do ask you to please be patient with getting answers to the questions that I’m sure all of you have. 

“We cannot give out full details of an investigation without permission from several people, and that only can happen after the investigation is fully finished. Of course, if you do have questions you need answered you may contact me and any of the other two school board members who you’ve seen today with the emails we’ve provided you. We will be happy to answer your questions if we are able to.

“It is also decided that since the decision to remove Miss Bustier as a teacher here is affecting multiple classes, that tomorrow will be an optional school day. Students may come in to work on school work or just hang out. However you will be required to come within the first hour of school and stay the whole day if you do wish to come here. It is to ensure all of your safety. Your parents have already been notified and told that they will receive a call just to confirm that you aren’t coming to school. If you have any more questions regarding that, you can ask Mr. Fournier for more details.

“Another change that is taking place is that your principal is also being removed.” This caused whispers of confusion to sprout up, but they quickly died down when the woman raised her hand. “We unfortunately cannot say much about this other than he was breaking some rules and had to be terminated. An official announcement regarding that will be made once the investigation is finished. I wish you all a good rest of your day, and if you have anything else you need to ask or have to tell us please reach out to any of the members you have seen today.”

With that, Mrs. Monet walked out and allowed the class to finally speak what was on everyone’s mind. 

“This is my fault.”

Well, clearly one student didn’t share the same thoughts as everyone else. All eyes immediately turned towards Marinette, who looked very upset at the current news. Which didn’t make sense given what had happened to her just last week.

“Marinette, no it’s not.”

“But, Miss Bustier-”

“Did you ask to have all that work dumped on you? To be threatened?” Adrien said, eye flashing with rage. A pat from within his pocket, unknown to anyone else in class, reminded him to take a deep breath and calm down. 

“But what about the class trip? I still needed to get things booked.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Dupain Cheng. As your current homeroom teacher, I’ll be handling things. Everything will be fine. As for you, I think that it would be a good idea for you to take a break being class representative so that you can focus on your school work and your other activities. Your class deputy can take over for a few weeks, and can appoint someone to help her temporarily as well.”

In the back of her mind, Marinette knew that what the man was saying was supposed to lift a burden off her shoulders. After all, she had been wanting a break for weeks now. But right now it felt like all the work she had done up to this point was all for nothing. 

“But, what about the plans I’ve already made? All that was left was to book things and get them approved?”

Mr. Fournier paused in consideration. It would be wrong to use work that a child was forced to do, but it was clear that it could cause the bluenette more distress if all of her work was for not. 

“See me on Wednesday. I’ll have to reach out to the school board to ensure that it is okay, but if you wish we can take your plans and implement them without you having to do all of the work. For now you all can just finish up on the worksheet I gave you and then have quiet conversations. If you need anything feel free to ask.”

Alya handed Marinetted a worksheet but less for the reason of working on it and more just so she wouldn’t forget about grabbing one later. Right now she wanted to check in on her.

“Miss Bustier had this coming to her.” Alya didn’t let Marinette try and defend that woman. “She was the one who purposely dumped her work onto you. Not just that, but she refused to let anyone else help you out. Then she decided to threaten you whenever you were politely trying to figure out the truth. Whatever happens to her is on her.”

Adrien and Nino nodded, and the rest of the class would have agreed but were pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping to try and give her some privacy. Marinette didn’t seem so sure, and the rest of the class all came to the silent collective decision that they would make sure Marinette wasn’t hurt from this. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Before the end of the week they found out that Chloe got expelled. Turns out all the threats she gave to both staff and students alike was enough to seal her fate. Her father tried to fight it, but there wasn’t a lot that could be done with all the evidence. In fact, he was too busy trying to save himself from being exposed of him abusing his power at the school to worry about abusing it even more. 

Another two weeks passed before they found out why Mr. Damocles was fired. Besides just ignoring Chloe’s behavior and Miss Bustier’s abuse, he had also been stealing the school’s money. Turns out the pay of being a principal alone couldn’t afford him all the comic books and fancy gadgets he wanted to become The Owl. 

It took a few weeks for Marinette to feel okay about things. Tikki adamantly went through, relaying out what responsibility meant for her to ensure that Marinette would take care of herself. Adrien, Alya, and Nino all distracted her when she got doubt that it was her fault more than Miss Bustier’s, and all made sure that she got plenty of rest. 

With all the rest she was getting she was finally able to go on patrols again with Chat’s approval. That still didn’t mean that he didn’t wrap her up in a blanket and make her take a nap instead of patrolling some days, but Marinette found that falling asleep to his purrs made her feel more relaxed so she was okay with it.

It was two months after the whole debacle, when Marinette was made to nap before a study session with her three friends only to wake up to the purring coming from a different blonde boy, that she realized something else. A quick freak out, the two hiding in the bathroom whilst Alya and Nino looked at each other confused from their spots in the living room, and Adrien decided that he really wasn’t going to let Marinette go. Like, literally.

“Adrien.”

“No.”

Marinette sighed, deciding to just lean back into him. He immediately burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, and it was only due to her slowly slipping out her exhausted mindstate and being able to be calm around him during that time that she wasn’t a completely flustered mess. Oh, she was still blushing hardcore, but at least she wasn’t squealing like a kettle.

Alya and Nino could only stare at the two, who had emerged from the bathroom with Adrien carrying Marinette before the blond sat her down between his legs. After a few moments, Alya was able to speak.

“So… are you two dating now or?”

“Engaged, actually.”

“I don’t remember you proposing.” 

“I would say married, but just because we act like a married couple doesn’t mean that we are legally married yet.”

“We’re fourteen.”

“... I can wait.”

[wingsoverlagos]

This is a fun collection of quotes from the Let It Be Beatles Interview with Mark Lewisohn conducted on August 20, 2018. This is mostly for @mythserene's enjoyment, but it's also a fun lil supplement to this comment by @talking-perfectly-loud on a post by @anotherkindofmindpod, which includes some revealing, deeply salty quotes by Lewisohn from an episode of Nothing Is Real.

The below soundbites focus on Lewisohn's feelings towards the Harrison estate, particularly Olivia, though Lewisohn also lets us know that he considered suing George at one point. Italics used to indicate tone; bold font is added emphasis by me.

This is from ~1hr8min into the interview, after a discussion of Mal Evans diaries. Here's a partial transcript:

"No, no, Olivia Harrison doesn't want anything to do with me at all. Yeah, so it's very frustrating because I just want to make the history better and better and better and more and more correct, especially more and more correct in terms of balance on all four Beatles, but whatever."

This is a longer clip (6:26) from ~1hr23min in the original interview. They're discussing Lewisohn's falling out with Apple/the Beatles/George in particularly, which came about because he was falsely accused of bootlegging, or something like that. He's told a few variations of this story.

The first 3ish minutes give some flavor and backstory. Some choice quotes (they're at about 2:50, 4:35, and 5:42 in this clip):

“To the day he died, George blocked me, and Olivia blocks me in George’s name, and so it still carries on.”

“I’ve never, ever leaked, and that was why it was so galling to be accused of being a bootlegger. George Harrison accused me of being a bootlegger to my face in front of a whole film crew, the bastard. I mean, really. A horrible, horrible thing to do. I really should have done him for slander, and in fact at one point I was tempted, believe it or not. Because, you know, I’m a professional, I’m on a shoot, I’ve got a whole unit with me, and he’s accusing me of being a bootlegger in front of everybody, which was- he had no evidence for because there wasn’t any, but that didn’t matter. He was accusing me without evidence, and it was wrong, and um, you just have to put up with these things. These people, they can get away with murder. Celebrities, you know?”

Lest we think George was wilding out solely because of the bootlegging, Lewisohn helpfully clarifies that it was also Paul's Fault:

“The irony of that was that I actually had started off really well with George. I knew George from ’87, personally, and we’d had nice times, and it was- one of the things that flipped it was when I began working regularly for Paul.”

This was the part of the podcast that really took me aback, from around the 1hr43min mark. There's some chatter about Let It Be (the film), and then Lewisohn goes off once again about Olivia Harrison. He's quite impassioned, and then seems to make a conscious effort to talk himself down.

“I don’t know Olivia Harrison. I’ve never met her, which makes her- just- [angry] blocking of everything I do so ridiculous, because she doesn’t even know me. But if, as it would appear, she’s taken it upon herself to perpetuate George’s wishes, which is something that you might expect a spouse to do when their partner’s died, if the partner says, ‘Don’t ever allow this’, then she would take it as her duty not to allow it.”

This is followed by some hedging.

There are several other choice tidbits in this two hour Lewisohn marathon, but Olivia Harrison was foremost in his mind. But don't worry, guys, he's not biased!

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

False-Moon

So the publishers rejected my short story, but I figured yall might like it haha! Here:

The shining spectre of the holy sun dipped behind the clouds, and I watched it go. When the last ember of gold was dashed, I sparked my lantern and raised it up on its stick, twelve and a half men high. 

Night bloomed around me, darkness without the respite of a moon. Ours had fallen many springs ago, when the Dryads warred with the Harpies, who stole the moon to spite us. The gods had punished them, and there are no Harpies now, but no man nor god had been able to find the moon again. So we made do with my lantern.

Its post was carved living birch, taken from the corpses of fallen Dryad Warriors, each strip from a different corpse, held together by metal inlay. Under the flickering lamp-light, its runes were more serpent than silver, glinting and shifting slyly. It was a comfort, a stave against the weight on my duty.

The wind was bitter on the moors tonight, tall grass whipping at my ankles, chilling me through the layers of bark I bore. It would not hurt me, any more than the winter could kill an ancient oak, but I hated it all the same, for I had not the fortitude of my sleeping siblings, and it meant the night would be an even more unpleasant one.

I walked through the moor, lantern held high. it illuminated me in a too-small circle of gold. I was but a little sapling when the moon fell, of course, but I remembered the moon's blessing on me. It felt nothing like the thin lantern-light. 

The light had been silver, like my mother's greying hair, like the wolves that guarded our forest, like safety and wisdom. All I felt here was exhaustion. That, and fear. We did not venture out of the forest at night, and nothing separated me from the endless darkness. Nothing, except my false-moon.

I stopped in the middle of the field and looked up. I was not quite sure why I did as such, for there was nothing up there. I remembered a story my grandmother's grandmother told me, of a time when her grandmother had been a little girl, when there were stars in the sky, little shining dots like the freckles on a Human's skin, and when night was but an icy day, so perhaps it was a ghost of a memory. It was all gone now, in any case.

I wondered how long it would be ‘til the sun was gone too.

My steady feet carried me to the edge of the moor. Water rushed there, slick pebbles hard against the wood of my soles. I stepped into the stream, letting the flow part itself around my calves as I moved. My hands never faltered, never dropped low. They were aching, now, just a little.

Under my golden lantern, the river might well have been blood, the blood of all the wars we had held over the millennia. I could only catch the faintest glimpses of silver amidst the dark river, and that could have just been the moon's blood. 

I crossed the stream with no fuss, and stood on the ancient battlefield. Charred ground crumbled beneath my feet, a steady path made by my predecessors leading me forth. From within the tiny circle of illumination, I saw stumps of torrefied wood, my sleeping siblings dead from an agonising blaze. The elders had called it their due, for the dead-wood had sheltered our mortal enemies. I could only call it a sham, a shame, a horrible thing out of my nightmares. Treason, my elders would remind me, but true nonetheless.

The very air itself resisted my movements, as though the darkness did not want to be lit here, that the horrors that had occurred should not be revealed. In the daylight, perhaps, it would not have been quite so grim. The sun would have warmed the dead dirt, and I could have pretended not to feel the life-destroying salt beneath me.

Closing my eyes, I shook the unease off. It would find no mantle within me. Five years I had trained for this day, to do my people proud, to set the night alight. Yet, here I was, on the boundary between my people and our long-dead enemy, and I felt nothing but loss.

The ground was not burnt here, not yet. Grass still poked up between my toes, friendly and curious. My sleeping siblings, great oaks, smiled down at me, in the way they had done at home. I looked up at my little sphere of fire. It danced and gleamed within its cage of metal and glass, eager to unmake. 

I should have done what all my predecessors did, and broke that sphere, letting our wrath blaze, sending the Harpy-forest alight. It would please my elders, and brighten the endless darkness, returning that which the Harpies took from us for a brief night. 

I could have done what a few did, and walked away, returning my lantern unbroken and the forest unburnt. It would make the elders rage, and they would cast me out of their ranks, but at least I would not be a part of this travesty.

I did not do either of those things.

Instead, I set my stick firmly into the growing grass, where it stood tall. I got on one knee before my people's nemesis, and I bowed, the way I would have done at home, before my forest and my gods. My nose brushed against the dark earth, and I inhaled it. The scent was strange, with its char, yet familiar. It had once been a part of our forest too, once.

I knelt there, and I whispered a prayer. “Great old ones, my fallen brethren, my people's old enemies, hear me. I bring an apology. Forgive us, for our senseless violence. Forgive us, for making a farce of the moon's light with our fire. Forgive us, for we must end this cycle. The stars have all fallen. The moon is spirited away. When the sun is lost too, what hope will there be for any of our peoples? So— I take the first step and make amends. I am Entarai, daughter of warriors Jerai and Ilkoi, who were felled in the same battle that took your lives. I offer this lantern, and the fire within, and I beg you, with all my heart, forgive us and return our moon,” I said, not expecting a response.

There was none, of course. I had not the sensitivity of a druid, to hear the whispers of the dead, nor the skills of a necromancer to call them to me, so even if they had reached out, I would never know.

I got up, brushed the dirt out of the cracks on my bark. I pressed my cheekbones in a final orison, then turned and began the walk home. My miniature moon, the little lantern on its stick, disappeared behind me as I left the woods behind. 

Strangely, the darkness did not hold the same terror it once did.

My path back was marked by the indents of my feet, the path walked by me and every other lantern bearer for a hundred thousand moonless nights. Blind as I was, I could follow it back to my lands. I navigated the riverbank through its pebbles, my feet feeling blindly for the smooth slippery stone and the water that would follow. Whence I found it, I crawled on my hands and knees through the river, its coolness washing over me, soaking me to the core. 

Perhaps it was just a trick of my mind, but the stream no longer felt like blood.

[softspeirs]

These Heartbeats Clear (6): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: This is quite a bit shorter than the other parts, but I thought it deserved its own time to shine. I hope you enjoy this part, Rosie lovers. It's been one of my favorites to write. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist

Six. Confession.

They land back at Thorpe Abbotts in the mid-afternoon. His breath rattles in his lungs, post-mission adrenaline making him feel twitchy and on edge.

He wants a nap, and he wants a cup of coffee.

Mostly, he just wants to talk to Grace.

He's been too in his own head to seek her out since their disagreement two days prior. He misses her with an ache he has never felt, one that leaves him rubbing at the spot over his heart like it's a physical wound.

After interrogation, he doesn't even stop to change out of his flight suit - he just turns in whatever gear doesn't belong to him, and then gets the hell out of dodge. He has too much nervous energy, too much adrenaline to go to the mess, or catch up with any of his guys.

He changes course, heads back towards his plane.

On the hardstand, his heart kicks into high gear when he sees a familiar form standing there, arms crossed over her chest, assessing his plane.

Her hair is falling out of its pins, and he knows he must look the same - she's never seen him directly after a mission except for once when Pappy had to go to the hospital, and he's strangely self conscious about his wild hair and the sweat drying at his temples. The smell of cordite is still thick in the air near his plane.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice sounds rough even to his own ears. He didn't think she'd be here.

She turns around, and he can see the tears in her eyes from paces away, and it startles him into action. "Grace." He says, worried.

"I thought-- someone said they saw flares, and I couldn't find you, you weren't in the hospital--"

He shakes his head, hands on her shoulders to try to get her to meet his eyes. "I'm fine, we're-- we had two wounded men, but it wasn't serious."

Her eyes are wide and wild as she looks up at him, cataloging for herself that he's intact. It's caught him completely off guard to be the sole focus of her attention like this.

She said she wasn't angry with him a few days ago during their argument, but he didn't really believe her. Couldn't figure out why she'd walk away from him if that were the case. But she's here, and that's got to be a sign, right?

She takes an enormous, steadying breath. "I'm sorry." She says on an exhale, the words washing over him.

"What?"

"I-- I made you upset, the other day. I'm sorry. I was too pushy. Too-- Everyone's always telling me that I can be too much sometimes."

"Everyone is wrong," he says vehemently. "You're not too much. And you don't owe me an apology."

Her words had hurt, yes, but they were also a wake-up call. She had been frustrated with him because he wouldn't let her in, and he's not going to make that mistake a second time. If there's anyone on earth that he's going to bare his soul to, it's going to be Grace Fleming. It's a foregone conclusion, already written in ink since the second he first met her, pristine in her nurse's uniform and sparkling eyes the day he arrived from the States with his unit and she had to declare them fit for duty.

He had felt it then, the electric current that ran between them with only a gaze, and it only got stronger the longer he spent getting to know her. Sometimes he feels like she's the only person on earth who understands him, so when she suddenly didn't -- that's what made him upset. Not that she was pushing him to be honest, be vulnerable, to let her in.

"I'm the one who's sorry." He says, voice cracking. "Grace, I have no idea how to do this." He can't look at her. He does a good job hiding it, but some days he feels unbearably unworthy of praise, hers or anyone else's. He feels shy, especially under her gaze. "I have to stay in a rhythm, you know? And if I let myself dwell on things in the past that I can't fix, I won't be able to keep going up there."

"I thought you died today." She croaks.

He takes a step closer. The tips of their shoes bump.

"I didn't."

"I know. I have faith in you, Rosie. Please don't ever doubt that. I want you to be safe. That’s all I can think about some days, and I never want you to feel like you have to keep all your feelings inside. Not with me.”

“I know.” His hand finds the side of her face, fingers grazing the shell of her ear, making sure she meets his eyes. “And I trust you to keep me safe, more than anyone else.”

“Up here too, right?” She asks, tapping his forehead in an echo of their previous conversation.

His conviction has never been a problem before - he's lucky that he's always been sure of his reasoning behind the choices he makes. He saw an injustice happening, and was determined to help stop it. When he became a lawyer, he wanted to help people.

So why is he so damned scared to make this one choice, even when he's sure of how he feels?

Looking in her eyes, he's starting to realize that this is what a good partnership is. Despite their disagreement, she was still here, still checking on him the way she always did.

Maybe nothing about that would change, even if he lets her in on that niggling voice in the back of his mind that makes him doubt himself. Even if he shows her that shy side of himself that people so rarely see.

And maybe that's how it is when you fall in love with someone - you trust them to catch you when it happens.

Mind made up, he leans in so there are only a few inches separating them. “Please let me kiss you.” His voice is so hoarse it's barely a whisper.

She nods, and before she can say another word, he surges forward, the frenetic energy of the day leaving him as soon as their bodies connect.

Her touch is a soothing balm, her heartbeat under his hand on the side of her neck a reminder that they’re both here and alive.

This quiet moment between them feels like a universe away from everything and everyone else, and when she sighs into his mouth, Rosie knows right then and there that he’s done for.

When they break apart, they’re both panting, her hands so tight on his lapels he can’t move an inch even if he wanted to.

“I’m crazy about you.” His voice is low and rough with intensity.

She laughs, a breathless thing that he feels all the way to the tips of his toes. “I just adore you, Robert Rosenthal.”

His grin is wide as he leans back in, their noses brushing. They just linger there in the in between, basking in this newfound intimacy between them.

He has half a mind to remember that they're on the hardstand where anyone could see, but he also wonders if at this point anyone would care. They're all doing what they need to do to get through this war, and it's not uncommon to turn a corner in the darkened light of the evening and find a couple trying to salvage any kind of romance.

Still, she's just been promoted, and so with regret, he takes a step back from her, his fingertips grazing hers. "Can I take you to dinner?" He asks.

"Please."

They just end up in the officer's mess, the only place they can get to before dinner is over, but it's fine because it's them. No one raises an eyebrow or makes any suggestive comments. They don't touch, but a new awareness has sparked between them that Rosie can't get enough of. He's felt it for weeks, but now he knows it's mutual, and that feeling is a heady one.

They talk. Well, he talks. He's as honest with her as he can be about where his mind is. They talk about home. They talk about work. They talk about what it'll be like when this is all over.

Afterwards, he feels so stupid that he hadn't trusted himself to let go like this with her before. It could have saved two days worth of missing her, but then again, it lead them to right here, right now.

He walks her to the nurses hut as the sun is setting. Satisfied no one is around, he kisses her goodnight just as the field beyond them drifts into a dreamy twilight.

He flies again the next day, but this time the anxiety it normally causes is absent as he climbs into his rack later that night, the memory of the feeling of her finally in his arms sending him into a dreamless sleep.

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

okay this is for the "I say Havers"-meta anon because I feel a bit bad that I didn't give you what you wanted🙈

So we pick it up again after, the last post I showed you.

Captain says his line about the cover drive, Havers thanks him and then this happens :

(Two btws: -I remember making one of my silly little lazy posts with "say something I'm giving up on you" to this image

-just found out whilst looking for the GIF: I actually can tell from Gifs that only have his facial expression what has been said to him and at which point we are in the scene,solely based on his expression😮 )

Sorry back to the meta:

Would you look at him. In the first scene we have with him Cap dismisses him by saying "carry on" and Havers gets back to his duties. But here Cap, all wrapped up in his feelings made room for a pause by not saying anything after his cricket comment.

Now Havers says this and of course he can't just leave,he has to be dismissed and my boy has places to be (north-africa). But this is clearly not him asking for further commands etc.

Look at his eyes completely fixed on Cap and his raised eyebrow and the movement of the head. It's simutaneously the gesture one makes to remind someone that it's their turn to speak or do something as well as it looks like he tries to not only encourage Cap but is trying to indicate that "If you have anything to say, now is the time". Basically it looks like he's desperately waiting/yearning/hoping that Cap will adress his feelings/confess his feelings. He's almost trying to nudge him mentally to spit something out. (Still believe His inner monologue here was "say something, say something, say something!")

But Cap just confirms that that's all and in this second Havers realises that Cap won't say anything. And look how dissapointed he looks because it's just not happening. He's giving up and very very briefly has to get his facial expression in check. he turns to leave

(Excuse the screenshot quality I'm typing this on my phone and had to take this from YouTube)

So Cap now panicks a bit because this is probably the last conversation they'll be having and he at least has something to say that resembles a good bye or an I miss you just something to tell Havers what he means to him. So at the last minute:

and of course Havers whips around with an expectant look the only difference is he does not look like he's screaming internally wondering If Cap will confess anymore. I guess because he's already in his stiff upper lip/professional mode because my god the man can hide his emotions Like 1000 times better than Cap. Also he has given up after Cap gave him emotional whiplash twice already in this conversation. But nonetheless there is still a faint hope which is shown by how fucking fast he turns towards him.

So the next part hast been said by others before. Cap tries to say something, his courage leaves him, he shakes his head to himself and settles for

With this pleading look on his face of I dunno "please I mean it"? "please you have to understand/to see"? "Please believe me when I say"?

Wordwise though he's going the semi professional route of "I really liked working with you because I like you as a colleague"

So now Havers reaction which I for the longest time could not get. I mean i get the nod that's a "acknowledged....thank you ...you too... bye"

But the smile? So yeah now I gotta say first of all professional mode is on. But also in a way he got an "It's a shame that you're going, I wish you we're staying" but just not as a romantic confession. So he's smiling because at least he got that and it was sincere? Also happy that Cap did at least say something about his emotions towards him in the end?

seriously interpretations on that smile are very welcome.

Sorry this all is again incoherent babbling, but at least it's now about the right part of the scene.

[iri-desky]

OKAY SO. *GRABS YOUR SHOULDERS* ELEVATOR HITCH FANDOM!!

WITH NOWORKER GETTING POPULAR, AS A MULTISHIPPER I'M ELATED! THIS IS SUPER COOL AND I LOVE TO SEE THE FANDOM GET CREATIVE. BUT ALSO AS A MULTISHIPPER, IT'S MY DUTY TO REMIND YOU ALL OF THE OTHER SHIP YOU DON'T REMEMBER...AND NO, IT'S NOT COTAG!

It's Notag. Normal Guy x Protag.

I feel like the two have such an interesting dynamic and a potential for some great development we never saw in-game; given that Normal Guy only appears at the end of the game, it gives the opportunity for lots of creative post-game writing, from world building to extra character development. With the nervous guy with religious trauma & the dubiously human, dubiously monster, chipper man with angel allegories. It holds such a cool concept; the chipper normal guy, who's whole life is dedicated to his work and is implied to be created in the sole drive of such, with an eye on the nervous Protagonist who does not want to be here and desire autonomy, who's life is dedicated to LIVING. Just...living. He chose this job to live, because he needs it. He doesn't want to lose control and doesn't submit as easily as others, or grovel under his heel, and it fascinates the strange entity known as a "Normal Guy". Protagonist just barely managed to fly under the radar and dodge the bullet that was losing his identity, and Normal Guy was interested in it. Of course, there is no place for a life or feelings in work! It must be dedicated to his company, so some adjustments have to be made-- though, not as harshly as he had to somr other unruly employees-- it's almost like he's observing a specific rat in a lab experiment for it's unique behavior. He likes this specific rat. Protagonist amuses Normal Guy--perhaps this CEO doesnt care a lot, though he does indeed care sometimes; although, besides how valuable they are to the company, the only individual he finds fascinating regardless of Level is Protagonist. Protagonist hates Normal Guy and is just scared of him, yet braves his gaze every day at work--every last day. Yet, again, the man is intriguing to him--what even IS he? He's intimidating to him. He's constantly confused by Normal Guy, from how offhand his way of thinking is to all the weird things he says--"Are Your Lungs Working Alright?". To the typically logical Protagonist, he just wants to figure out this monster before said monster figures him out. But he doesn't want to care about Normal Guy. He'd rather die again than see his face again.

Protagonist sees Normal Guy as some weird monster trying to control his life, and Normal Guy sees Protagonist as a new, strange, and interesting addition to the rat race.

And to see their interactions evolve would be so cool, man. There's so much potential.

THAT'S IT I'M DONE *rips my hands off your shoulders*

[gubbles-owo]

okay fuckit, gather 'round: it's gubbles' storytime. girl's band cry hyperfixation be damned, it's bringing up so many Things in my heart. i say i've never performed live onstage, but that's not entirely true. while a far shot from actually taking part in a band and playing a show, allow me to tell you the tale of the closest I ever got to that: a random session at jamspace, pax east, 2016.

.......... senior year of college, i was brought onboard with another group of students who had not only completed a game demo for a class project, but wanted to take it further. a lil VR game, simple in concept and clean in execution, i was invited to do music and audio for it. (i was, of course, the sole game audio/music-focused student on campus, as my school's gamedev program didn't really have a dedicated audio designer track). ultimately it fizzled out and not much came of it, but for a good chunk of time it was everything. our future ambitions, something to carry us forth from graduation on into the industry, to cement our own little foothold in the vast world of game development. we took the train to boston so many times, showed off our game at SO MANY local events, hell i had never known how to navigate a complex subway system, and here we were sifting through every few weeks or so. it was a wild fucking time, and honestly? i wish i could experience it again. something about the weaving of fantastical future prospects with the tangible, corporeal experience of it all. once foreign subway systems, sprawling in a subterranean web of concrete and metal, the sidewalks of city streets lit by the glow of the city, now strangely familiar in such a short span of time... *ahem* right, where was i... right, pax east. our school provided a limited number of booths for teams to show off their projects at pax east, and being one of the big promising projects stirring up on campus, we were granted a spot. (actually i had TWO spots because two separate projects/teams i took part in got accepted, so i had to pull double duty for a lot of it LMFAO). i've been to pax before, but as a fan and attendee, not as a developer. so this was an entirely new experience... ...and that experience was having the booth you sit at all day right next to the massive league of legends (ew) stage!! they blasted music constantly! half of it was just percussion loops from Heavyocity's Damage, and i know because I RECOGNIZED THOSE PERCUSSION SOUNDS and even USED SOME OF THEM IN THE PROJECT I WAS WORKING ON. see, the convention floor is loud. like. incredibly fucking loud. it's one thing if you're walking around as a fan, you've got other talks in siderooms to go to, and you can always step out and get some fresh air if you're feeling overwhelmed. but ya can't do that when you're on shift to demo your game to con attendees for the next several hours, can ya? :3c so yeah, long story short, i got sick. real fuckin sick. i had to YELL over the din of the convention the entire time, and after just one day, i had already lost my voice. and i mean COMPLETELY LOST MY VOICE. i could not speak, only painfully croak. i had to resort to crude hand gestures and typing shit on my phone to communicate. it was rooouughhh. and after bringing this up with my teammates, they agreed to cover my shifts, and let me rest. because the con was so fucking loud, and i was still stuck there sick all day, i informed my team that i would be headed to the jamspace room to pick up earplugs. and by "earplugs" i mean. haha well. lets justr say. a bass guitar. (srry for screenshot but tumblr hated this paragraph for some reason and kept blocking the post):

i was sick as fuck, and for sake of my health, should probably not have pushed myself. HOWEVER. i would NOT i repeat *NOT* let this sole opportunity to slip me by... i've always wanted to perform with other musicians, so fuck it, i am doing this. so the next twelve minutes i shuffled my sickly ass alll the way around to the room at the very end of the hall. i had taken note of the open-stage timeslots the day prior. i had one hour to do this shit. one hour to make the dream come true. i cannot describe the nervousness i felt going into that whole thing. i lied to my teammates. i couldn't speak. a dark room with a little clipboard to fill out a timeslot and instrument, and an empty, brightly lit stage on the other side of it. but i shuffled stage right, strapped on this bass, and asked for a pick (because im a fake bassist). and. holy shit.

i had no voice, but with that bass strapped to me? i could make the entire room *shake*. and words cannot describe how utterly fucking powerful that felt.

a few other randos took up the other instruments. i don't remember much about them, only that they intimidated the HELL out of me. i had done like concert band in high school, i've jammed on instruments in my room, but this? this is something entirely different. we played through a couple tracks... they kept suggesting "hey how about x song from y band?" but my stupid-ass doesn't have a degree in classic rock like everyone else apparently does, so i shrugged and said i didn't know how to play it. we finally settled on the one song suggested that i was, at least passingly, familiar with... metallica's enter sandman lmfaO the "passingly" there is very important, because while i know the general flow and structure, i wasn't sure about the specifics. when we got to the first pre-chorus, i notice something had shifted, and i was no longer playing the right notes. i must've either sounded terrible or look visibly confused, because the guitarist to my left turned toward me, angled his fretboard to be clearly in view, and taught me how to play the riff while performing it onstage. and i did it!! i picked it up, just like that!! it was just the earlier bit but transposed up a few steps or smth, but god, just. that little moment right there? that quick moment of guidance mid-performance? holy fuck that is magical. the other awesome moment was somewhere in the bridge, like. okay. i could barely hear myself, as the guitars and vocals and cymbals right behind me were all incredibly loud (they didn't have earplugs btw lol). but i wasn't sure i was like, contributing much to the song? and while i admittedly improvised this bit, for the build up into the final chorus, i stopped playing. i let the guitar and the drums have their space. and slowly, quietly, high up on the fretboard, built back up until WHAM, i come back in full force with the chorus. IT WAS SO COOL. LIKE. the mix sounded so weak and thin without me, and the contrast of making the entire fucking room violently vibrate with the flick of my wrist on the downbeat? holy FUCK. IT'S MAGICAL. MAGIC IS REAL Y'ALL AND IT IS ONSTAGE. anyway yeah, played that song, some members swapped out but no one else was signed up for bass, so i stuck on for a lil longer. another guitarist taught me how to play one of the splatoon themes, and while it was fun, the drummer kept us both going on that one riff for a looot longer than we wanted to lmfao fun fact! none of my team knew i did this!! they probably would've been PISSED had they found out!! actually they stole my con pass on the third morning, which made sense cause they had someone else fill in for me at the booth, but none of it was communicated to me and i was piiiiised. wound up navigating the subway and trains back home, all by myself, for the first time. but YEAH it was AMAZING. it wasn't an established band playing a local show, it was just a bunch of randos fucking around. and god. i... i really want to be part of a band someday. i want to feel this again.

even if just for one show, for one song, for one moment... i need to feel the weight of the room underneath my fingertips.

[scarlettjemily]

Mine - (Latch Chapter 2)

Latch - Chapter 1

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Summary: Set 5 years after their wedding. JJ gets injured in the field, causing both women to reminisce about how their relationship began.

Word Count: 3.3k

Posted on Ao3 as well

Emily practically ran to the ambulance when she heard JJ had been injured while the team was entering an unsubs house. She weaved through all the people, biting her tongue in the process; she wanted to snap at all these people to get the fuck out of her way, but she was still the unit chief of the BAU and had a level of professionalism to adhere to. “Jennifer? Jen, oh shit baby,” her professionalism flew out the window when she saw her wife with blood dripping down her face.

“Emily I’m fine; it’s not as bad as it looks,” JJ reassured, trying to stop Emily from overreacting. Although she knew that was just wasted energy, “Em, stop,” she huffed, gently pushing her wife’s hands away.

Emily was right in JJ’s face, trying to get a closer look at the cut on her forehead. “Did you do a concussion assessment? JJ, look at me, do you feel nauseous?” She completely ignored JJ’s objections. Her mind was solely focused on making sure JJ was okay. “We’re going to the hospital now; let’s go,” she went to climb into the ambulance, but JJ grabbed her arm, pulling her back down.

“Jesus Emily, I don’t need to go to the hospital. It’s just a cut; please stop making a fuss." JJ stood up, resting her hands on Emily’s shoulders. “I’ll just go home and rest; you know you can’t just leave yet. Go complete your chief duties, then come home.”

“Like hell, that’s happening!” Emily snapped; she grabbed JJ’s hand tightly and pulled her to the SUV. “Get in; we are going straight home. If you don’t want to go to the hospital, then I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she ripped off her FBI vest and threw it into the back seat before hopping into the driver's seat.

JJ huffed and threw her vest into the back with Emily’s. "Fine,” she grumbled, getting in the passenger seat. She knew there was no point arguing now; when Emily got into this mood, there was no stopping her. JJ sighed and let herself rest back into her chair, using the lever on the side to recline back slightly.

“Are you okay, baby? Are you feeling sick?” Emily said, in a softer voice than before. Her worry becoming more evident now that she’d calmed down.

JJ gave her a small reassuring smile, reaching over the center console and placing her hand on Emily’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. “I promise you I’m okay; it hurts, but I definitely don’t have a concussion. I wouldn’t lie to you about it, darling; I know how protective you are,” she remarked.

Emily let one of her hands fall away from the steering wheel so she could hold her wife’s hand. “A switch just flicks in me when you’re hurt; I can’t help it,” she replied, knowing full well she overreacted in the moment.

“I know exactly what you mean; don’t you remember how I was? Even before we were dating? That one case where you ran in guns fucking blazing and ended up getting caught,” she said, shaking her head at the memory.

Emily snickered, remembering how angry JJ was at her for running onto the scene without thinking. “If I remember correctly, me doing that kind of kick started our relationship, so maybe you should actually be thanking me,” she joked, the mood shifting now that the worry had somewhat dissipated.

“Emily! Get back here!” Rossi screamed, but there was no stopping her. She’d heard a woman’s voice screaming for help, and she couldn’t ignore it. With her gun raised, she kicked the door down and entered the house.

“What is she doing?!” JJ yelled, running up next to Rossi. “I’m going with her,” she insisted, about to run towards the house, but Rossi gripped her arm tightly, yanking her backwards.

“No way, you’re not going in there as well. We have no idea if he’s armed. Let’s wait until we hear from Emily,” Rossi commanded, taking charge of the situation.

JJ went to protest but got interrupted by a woman running out of the house. She expected to see Emily following behind her, but as the seconds passed, she was nowhere to be seen. JJ asked the woman what happened, trying to gauge if Emily was okay. “He’s got her; she told him to let me go, that he could have her instead,” she hysterically cried. “He’s crazy, he’s fucking crazy,” she kept repeating over and over. There was no use talking to her anymore; she was completely traumatised.

JJ kept pacing back and forth, every horrible scenario flashing through her mind. She involuntarily ran through every possibility of losing her best friend, and she was getting closer to completely losing it. “I can’t sit back and wait any longer, Dave; who knows what he’s doing to her in there?” she begged, her arm motioning to the house.

“Hey, I know you’re freaking out; she’s my teammate too,” Rossi said, trying to reason with her.

“She’s not just my teammate! She’s my…“ She trailed off. What was she? Her best friend? Her person? She didn’t know; all she knew was that if she lost Emily, she wouldn’t be able to cope with that.

“I know JJ, I know, you don’t need to say it,” he said quietly, like he was trying to say it so only JJ could hear him.

Everyone stopped when they heard 3 quick gunshots sound off from inside the house. Dave practically pushed JJ forward, both of them launching into a full sprint towards the entrance.

JJ held her gun up, moving quickly through the hallway. “Emily?! Emily, where are you?!” She yelled out. She walked into an open lounge, seeing a pool of blood. Emily was lying right in the middle of it, the unsub directly on top of her. They both weren’t moving. JJ’s heart pounded in her throat, a sob finding its way out. “No, Emily, no, no, no,” she sheathed her gun and dropped to her knees. She used all her strength to flip the unsub off of Emily, revealing gunshot wounds to his abdomen. There was too much blood; she couldn’t count how many times he’d been shot. She ignored her FBI duties and didn’t care to check his pulse; right now she only cared about Emily. Emily was covered in blood. JJ cried out, trying to find where the bullet had entered so she could apply pressure.

“JJ, I’m okay." Emily croaked out, "It's not my blood; it’s not my blood; it’s not my blood," she repeated multiple times because JJ wouldn’t stop crying. She got the wind completely knocked out of her when the unsub fell on top of her. They’d gotten into a physical fight; it was a complete blur. She just remembers seeing a knife, and the next moment she was firing.

JJ kept pressing her hands all over Emily’s stomach, frantically trying to find an open wound. She just couldn’t comprehend what Emily was saying to her.

“JJ stop! I’m okay, I’m not hurt, it’s not my blood,” Emily snapped, trying to get her attention. She sat up, gripped JJ's wrists, and tried to keep them still, not needing to put up too much of a fight now that she’d caught her breath. “Look at me, it’s not my blood,” she said again, this time slower, looking directly into JJ's eyes.

JJ stopped fighting and stared down at Emily; her cries kicked up a notch, but this time she fell into Emily, just needing to feel her in her arms. “I thought you were dead. I really, really thought you were dead,” she choked through hysterical sobs.

Emily held JJ in a tight hug, her arms locking around her waist. “I’m okay,” she huffed out, JJ's tight grip on her partially restricting her air flow.

“I can’t ever lose you, Emily,” JJ whispered into Emily’s ear. She didn’t care if anyone heard her; all her fear and doubt about her feelings disappeared in the moment. “I love you, Emily; I thought I lost you without telling you that I love you,” she confessed.

"Oh, darling, I know,” Emily consoled the younger woman, still holding her tightly. “I love you too, Jayje; god, I love you so much.” She couldn’t let go of JJ; she didn’t want to, not after they both just confessed their feelings. She truly had no idea if it would go anywhere, but she was so relieved she could finally get that off her chest.

"Hey,” Emily smiled, sitting down in the seat next to JJ. They were all on the jet, heading back home after the whole ordeal. JJ separated herself from the team in the furthest corner seat. Emily left her for a while, wanting to respect her choice of being alone, but their mutual confession was eating her alive.

"Hey,” JJ replied, tensing slightly. Her mind was overwhelmed, and when she looked at Emily, all she could think about was her lying in a pool of blood.

“Do you mind if I sit here with you?” She asked, always wanting to respect JJ’s choices.

JJ chuckled at the question; she was amused by it because there will never be a time where JJ would ever say no to having Emily sit beside her. "No, I don’t mind at all,” she replied, sitting up and turning her body so she was facing the woman next to her.

“I think we should talk about today,” Emily said, also turning slightly in her seat to face JJ. “A lot happened,” she continued.

“If you ever run into an unsubs house like that again, Emily, I’ll kill you myself,” JJ promised. She was mad about the way Emily handled it; her mind kept going back to the moment where she truly thought Emily was dead. “That was so stupid; you could’ve been killed,” she scolded the older woman.

Emily let out a guilt-stricken sigh; she wasn’t thinking at the time. “I’m sorry, I truly wasn’t thinking; I just acted. I had no idea it would turn out the way that it did, and I had no clue it would affect you this badly,” she ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit coming out subconsciously.

JJ looked at her with a screwed-up face. “Seriously, Emily? Of course it would affect me this badly! You’re telling me you wouldn’t be affected if roles were reversed and you thought I had died?” She demanded. Her body temperature was rising now; how could Emily be so clueless? Even if she didn’t know exactly how JJ felt, she still knew how important she was to her.

"No, of course I’d be affected, Jesus JJ. I don’t even know what I’d do if I’d lost you,” she stated, looking straight at her. “You’ve got to understand; I had no idea how you felt about me until today. I mean, I still don’t quite know,” she was hoping they could clarify a few things now.

“I told you I love you; what don’t you get about that?” JJ asked as if the answer was so obvious.

Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s not that simple, JJ. Do you love me as a friend? Or something more? Because when I said I loved you, I sure as hell didn’t mean as a friend,” she was working hard to hide the fear she was feeling; she didn’t know where this would go.

“Are you dense? Of course something more." JJ said quietly, moving in her chair so she was closer to Emily so only she could hear what she had to say. “I want you; I love you. When I saw you lying there in a pool of blood, I thought I’d lost you, and it made me realise that I need you, Emily; I need you to be mine.” She laid it all out on the table; she couldn’t get any clearer than what she was being.

Emily breathed out a quick ‘oh’ under her breath, more to herself than to JJ. Her mind was racing, and she had to cover her mouth; she didn’t want her face-eating grin to be so obvious. "JJ, are you sure? Because I’m not playing, I don’t think you understand how much you truly mean to me,” she admitted, needing clarification for the umpteenth time.

JJ rolled her eyes, grabbing Emily’s hand. “Emily Prentiss, I understand because I feel the exact same way.” She was begging Emily to believe her. “You have to trust me; please let me prove it to you.”

Emily squeezed JJ’s hand tightly, nodding her head. “Okay, okay, I trust you.”

"Jen, babe, do you want to rest on the couch or in the bedroom?” Emily asked, walking into the bathroom. JJ was standing in a towel in front of the mirror, brushing her freshly washed hair.

"Couch, please,” she replied, giving Emily a tired smile.

Emily still had residual worries from earlier in the day. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She questioned, walking over to JJ and instinctively going to check her head wound. “I have to admit, it doesn’t look as bad now that it’s clean,” she admitted, knowing she was slightly dramatic in the moment.

JJ chuckled, resting her cheek into Emily’s palm, which rested on her cheek. “I told you I was fine,” she teased, turning her head to plant a kiss on Emily’s palm. “Can you pick me out something comfy to wear, please?” She pleaded, with a pout she was working hard to put on.

Emily laughed and squeezed JJ’s cheeks with her hand, placing a quick kiss on her lips. “I already laid out an outfit for you, baby; come on,” she said, heading back out to their room so JJ could get dressed.

Both women were on the couch in their lounge. Emily was sitting surrounded by a bunch of paperwork and files. She was trying to complete the work she would’ve done after the case had wrapped, but of course she’d decided to stay with her wife. JJ was lying next to Emily, her feet tucked under Emily’s thigh. It was her favourite way to warm her feet up; it was also something she quite often did solely for comfort.

“Oh my god, JJ,” Emily said, holding up a piece of paperwork she was filling out.

JJ noticed the tone of voice and looked up at Emily, confused. “What? What’s wrong?” She asked, propping herself up on her elbows. Emily handed her the paper, telling her to look at the date. “Wait, that’s not today’s date, is it?” Emily chuckled and confirmed that it was. “Emily, we both forgot our anniversary?” She said, genuinely surprised that it had both slipped their minds. “And it’s our fifth anniversary too! Noo, I’m actually so sad about this,” she sighed, throwing the file down on the coffee table.

“Hey, no, come here." Emily cooed, pulling JJ by the hand. Her other half crawled over and straddled her lap, a sad look still occupying her face. “It was a mistake; we’ve both been super busy with this case; it doesn’t mean anything more than that." Emily tried to console JJ; she could already predict the thoughts that would be swirling through her mind. JJ tried to protest, but Emily stopped her. “Ah, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. It doesn’t mean we love each other any less or we are falling out of love. Shit honey, I love you more today than I did yesterday,” she declared, cupping JJ’s face.

“I just don’t want us to become one of those couples who don’t care about that kind of thing anymore; we get so used to being with each other that every day is the same until we eventually fall out of love with each other,” JJ had to admit. She was worried and slightly insecure; that’s exactly how her last marriage ended. Every day, exactly the same until they agreed they no longer loved each other anymore. She was terrified that that was going to happen to her and Emily; that would definitely kill her.

Emily pulled JJ closer to her body, the blonde hugging her tightly. She patted the back of JJ’s thighs. “Oh Jayje, I know you’re worrying about it, but you don’t need to; you’re stuck with me, my love. For the rest of our lives, okay?”

JJ let out a comforted sigh. She loved being reminded by her wife how much she loved her “promise?” She asked, seeking clarification again.

“What was it you told me all those years ago? You have to trust me; let me prove it to you.” Emily quoted JJ’s words from all those years ago; it was something she’d never forget.

"Okay, can I look now?” JJ asked, her hands covering her eyes. Emily was behind her, hands on her hips, guiding her where to walk.

Emily stopped JJ right at the entrance of their bedroom. She’d spent the last hour or so throwing something together so they could celebrate their anniversary. She wanted JJ to know that their relationship was still strong, regardless of whether or not they forgot their anniversary. “Okay, open your eyes,” she instructed, coming to stand next to JJ in the doorway. Her arm resting loosely around JJ's waist.

“It’s perfect, Emily; it’s so perfect,” she gushed, admiring their newly decorated bedroom. There were candles peppered all over the entire room, softly illuminating the space. She could see their favourite takeaway food, laid out on plates, set up on their bed. JJ smiled seeing their favourite comfort show already playing on the TV.

"Look, it’s nothing like what we usually do, but I think it’s not bad considering what I was working with,” Emily admitted sheepishly, moving to sit on the bed, guiding JJ over by her hand.

"Gosh, I’m so lucky I have you." JJ gushed, climbing up on the bed and moving to sit in between Emily’s legs; the positioning was now a subconscious decision between the two.

The woman sat there together, Emily’s arms around JJ's waist, JJ feeding the both of them an assortment of food. They were happy and content, not needing anything fancy to enjoy the love they shared for one another.

“You promise we will be together forever?” JJ whispered.

They were both lying under the covers, facing each other, their bodies and limbs tangled together in a position that could’ve resembled a pretzel. The room was dark, but they could just see each other’s faces; the candles had almost all burned out by now.

“I promise my love, there’s nothing in this world that could ever make me fall out of love with you,” Emily proclaimed. Her hand tucked some stray hair behind her wife’s ear; she couldn’t help running her thumb over JJ's bottom lip. She tended to do that innately, whenever she was admiring the features of her face. She understood why JJ may be worried; her history with her ex-husband could easily explain her insecurities.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” JJ almost pleaded, her eyes getting hot as her anxiety level rose internally.

Emily shook her head, her hand finding its way into JJ's hair, pulling her head closer so she could plant a kiss on her wife’s forehead. “I’m yours, forever,” she mumbled against the warm skin, being careful of the cut on her head.

JJ smiled when she heard that. “Mine,” she replied, pressing her lips to Emily’s. Her hand slipping under the hem of Emily’s shirt, the warmth of her skin helping JJ ground herself in the moment.

Emily groaned when JJ began to kiss down her jawline, making a path to her ear. "Fuck,” she whispered when JJ bit her earlobe, all while repeating 'mine’ over and over. "Yours,” she breathed out, shivers running through her body. She could just feel how much JJ loved her in this moment.

"Mine,” JJ said once more, finding Emily's lips, kissing her deeply; any worries she’d had were washed away almost instantly.

[finalgirleddiemunson]

When I Write, Will You Answer? Part II (Dream x Reader)

summary: you believe you have been very foolish. Dream endeavors to prove you wrong. the sequel to When I Write, Will You Answer? (wc 4.4k)

warnings: some self-depreciating thoughts, kissing, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: thank you to all the love on part one! put the confession scene in this side-by-side to the proposal scene in jane eyre and play spot the difference. 

masterlist

-----

Lucienne finds Dream of the Endless in the library.

“Lord Morpheus, there is a Messenger for you.”

Dream is up, moving faster than any human eye could follow, books swiftly discarded on the table. His soul screams Messenger. 

Lucienne stops him, a flash as she injects herself into his path. He has only a moment to feel his old rage, his old wrath at being obstructed or disobeyed in his own kingdom before he remembers himself. Before he sees the gravity of the situation etched in Lucienne’s countenance. 

“A Messenger, my lord. Not Messenger,” Lucienne finishes, her stare piercing over the tops of her glasses. Not our Messenger hangs unspoken in the air. 

The King of Dreams has no response. He studies Lucienne for a moment, all of his senses recalibrating with this news. 

“Then I shall see this Messenger,” he finally settles on, sweeping past Lucienne without another word. 

It is odd to see another in your place. 

Your siblings all carry the same messenger bag. Old magic spills from the golden stitching and the weave of the fabric, letting all who come near it know that it is from the Messengers and protected as such. 

A boy stands at attention at the end of his throne room, a youthfulness in the curve of his features despite the eons Dream is well aware this Messenger has lived. The stiffness of the boy’s spine reminds Dream of the first time you entered The Dreaming- the way you had held yourself so still, nothing short of perfection in your stance as you did your duty.

But then, oh but then, you had smiled. And consciously or not, you handled the letter gifted to you with the care of a newborn thing, delicately tucking it into your bag. Declared your happiness so openly at going to visit his sister’s domain. 

And somewhere in the universe, the Fates laughed. Dream should have known then. 

The new Messenger bows deeply at his entrance, and magic sends a small stack of papers from the Messenger’s hands. He lets them float in front of the Dream Lord, waiting for delivery. 

“Your sibling has tended to all messages to and from this realm for many years,” Dream states. The boy looks startled, head snapping up, not prepared to be addressed by the Endless before him. 

Dream himself is not prepared for the way the boy then straightens his spine and meets his gaze openly. 

Dream only has a moment to wonder if all Messengers are as stubborn as you and if your brother is the proof before he responds, “That is true, Your Grace. My sister has tended to many of the Endless.”

“And where is she now? Will she not return to her post?” Dream does not raise his voice, but the earth of the Dreaming gives a low rumble of warning.

“She still continues her work. She has sent me in her stead, and I will now be the Messenger of this realm, Your Grace.” The new Messenger holds himself perfectly- there’s only the slight edge of steel in his voice that gives him away. 

Dream studies him for a moment. He admires your brother’s bravery, to speak to him in such a way. If it were not for the matter at hand, Dream might even find himself amused by it. 

If you were here, Dream would cast you a look and you would know without words that he was thinking I understand now that all the Messengers were forged in fire and carry it with them. 

But you’re not here. 

“I see,” Dream says after a moment. The steel melts from the boy’s spine as he nods to the Endless. He shifts his weight, beginning to move, ready to flee from the Dreaming. 

“You have not completed your duty, Messenger,” Dream rumbles, stopping the boy in his tracks. A frost bites in the air. The title solely addressed to you for so long feels bitter in Dream’s mouth when given to another. It clogs the back of his throat, spills poison across his tongue. 

The boy returns to attention, eyeing the Endless wearily, “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

Dream does not acknowledge the request of forgiveness, now focused solely on another task. In his chambers, a letter placed carefully on his desk disappears, turning to grains of sand. The letter reappears in a swirl of sand in Dream’s palm. The black envelope is sealed with his sigil, and the wax holds a miniscule galaxy that swirls beneath the image. 

Dream studies the envelope for a moment, recalls the words he agonized over. And then remembers his company and presents the boy with the letter. 

The new Messenger looks startled for only a moment before he schools his expression once more, taking the paper from the Dream Lord. 

“See that delivered,” Dream orders, authority spilling from him, finally ready to dismiss the boy.

The Messenger stares down at the envelope. As he looks up at the Dream Lord, there’s a hesitance in the way he opens and closes his mouth. 

The boy at last settles on, “To whom, My Lord?”

Outside the palace, the air of the Dreaming crackles with electricity. A storm brews along the edges of the plane. 

The twin stars in Dream’s eyes flare. “I should think that would be obvious.” 

The new Messenger leaves without further delay, a black envelope tucked safely in his bag. 

—

“You’re reminding me very much of someone else right now,” Death says, her figure blocking out the sun and your view of the park. 

You try not to glower. “I’m in the middle of something very important.”

“No, you’re not,” Death chirps amiably before plopping down beside you. 

“No, I’m not,” you sigh. You lean against the back of the bench, resuming your people-watching and trying to ignore the burn of Death’s stare. 

“What are you doing here, Messenger?” Death asks. There’s a certain knowing, a wisdom to her tone that almost makes your lip quiver. 

Instead you breathe in sharply, pushing the feeling back. You scan the crowd of families playing games, couples lounging on picnic blankets, friends gathering in circles under the sunshine. You nod to a young girl, wisps of her red hair escaping her braids as she giggles happily, chasing after a butterfly. 

“Her name is Amelia,” You start, not returning your attention to Death, but knowing that she’s listening all the same. “She turns ten in the winter. Every year, she writes a letter to Father Christmas and places it on her windowsill. One year she asked for a puppy. The next year she asked for a baby brother.”

The butterfly lands in the grass for a moment and Amelia is quick to throw herself on the ground next to it, eyes wide as she studies the vibrant colors. You can’t help the little smile that the action brings. 

“Isn’t there some high and mighty code about sharing other people’s letters?” Death asks. 

“Well, the Messengers don’t technically tend to humans anymore.” 

Death nudges her shoulder against yours. “Softie.”

You lightly nudge her back. “Amelia’s letters seemed very important,” You hum. 

The truth is, you’ll always have a special place in your heart for humanity. The touches of inspiration given from the Messengers to humanity over the years resulted in advancements that were wonderful and necessary for humans, but it made you treasure the small insights you had into humans even more now. 

“I saw my brother recently.”

Ah, there it is. 

“Have you?” You say, playing for equal parts of innocence and naivety. Judging by the look Death levels at you, you only vaguely hit the target. 

“He said one of your brothers has been tending to his realm since his return.” Death’s voice is quiet. You hate that she has known you for so long, and can no doubt read the tenseness in your body. You force your fingers to unfurl, feeling the crack and pop of the delicate bones. 

“Well, it felt like the right thing to do.” Liar, your mind screams. It had felt like exactly the wrong thing to do, every cell had protested the thought. When you asked the favor of your sibling you knew yourself to be a coward, but could find no better solution. You continue, “I am surely no longer welcome in the Dreaming.”

“You know that’s not true!” Death is quick to take your hand in hers. “I don’t know what happened, Messenger, but it pains me to see both of you this way.”

“Both,” You scoff. A bit of fire licks up your spine as you turn to the Endless. “You know, I actually have heard from your brother.”

Death squeezes your hand, a silent request for you to continue. “He sent me a letter. Through my sibling.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asks. Her thumb runs along the back of your hand, ever flowing patience and kindness in the gesture. It drains the anger from you- you were never even angry to begin with. The rage was just easier to feel than the hollow echo. 

You rest your head against her shoulder, allowing yourself the comfort of being near your friend. At least you can still call Death by that title. 

You swallow thickly. Choke out the words, “He sent me a formal invitation to return to my duties in the Dreaming.” The invitation bore no acknowledgement of having read your letters, no hint to his own thoughts. It was only exactly as its function intended- an invitation. 

“Well that’s because he’s an idiot,” Death remarks without hesitation. It startles a giggle from you, quickly smothering it into Death’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m serious. What an absolute idiot. I told him he was worse than Desire, and all he does is go and prove it.”

You laugh freer now. Death’s shoulder moves under you as she shakes her head with a disappointed sigh. 

You revel in the comfortable silence for a moment, looking back out to the park. Amelia has managed to coax the butterfly to land on her finger, and she sits perfectly still so that she doesn’t scare it away. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, catch every flutter of the delicate wings. 

“Go see Dream,” Death says. She leans her head on top of yours. “I’ve got a letter for him that I would trust no other Messenger with.”

You squeeze her hand. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” She agrees. “But I could have one if it would make you feel better.”

“It’s alright.” The butterfly on Amelia’s finger takes flight and she lets out a shriek of delight as it dances around her before taking to the sky. “I suppose I would have to face it all eventually. Eternity is a long time.”

Despite your words, you make no move to leave. Death lets you lean against her for a while longer, even though you know she has her own job to get back to. You appreciate the silent strength of your friend and let her warmth revive you. 

“Yes,” Death replies. “Longer still with no one to share it with.”

You press your lips together, a physical reminder to keep your secrets your own. 

That, alongside the formal invitation penned by Dream, there was also a small flower in the envelope. 

Delicate and lovely, and very much like the ones that grow in Fiddler’s Green. 

—

The Dreaming is being repaired. Slowly.

The realm already looks better from the last time you entered, debris cleared away and lost structures reforming. But, it’s clear that there is still much to heal. 

You enter through the gates. You will not be slacking in formalities now- will give no misstep to further exacerbate the Ruler of the Dreaming. 

A shaking in your hands persists. You wrap them around the strap of your bag, tugging it tight to your body.

The last time you made this trek across the bridge, you carried a letter written in your hand.

Today you carry a small flower, lovingly placed so as not to be crushed inside your bag. 

The palace looks resplendent once more, the high arches no longer marred by holes and the glass of the windows restored. You can’t help the feeling of warmth, to see the place you love so ardently no longer suffering. 

How many times had you wished that you could see Dream of the Endless again? Now you can think of no greater torment in the universe. 

You stop before you enter the throne room. No doubt the King of the Dreaming has already sensed your presence in his realm, can feel your hesitation, yet you cannot help your lingering pause. 

A coward no longer, you remind yourself, trying to fan the sparks of your sorrow into fire. The most you can hope for is Dream’s indifference- you cannot stand the thought that perhaps he has only invited you to remind you of the foolishness of your feelings. How ignorant you were to even consider the two of you anything other than acquaintances. 

Certainly not friends. Certainly not more. 

You straighten your spine and prepare to see Dream.

The curved staircase to his throne winds up, up, up and- there. 

His dark coat flows elegantly behind him as he stands.

“Messenger,” The low tone of his voice rumbles in your ear as though he were beside you and not across the room. 

A century without him. He looks just as you remembered.

Well, not exactly. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

You would know him- his form, his presence, him- without sight. Lifetimes have been spent memorizing the shape of his hand, the curve of his face, the length of his gait. Lucienne spoke true all that time ago- something has indeed shifted in the Dream Lord. Something lingers in his gaze, there’s a certain softness in the set of his shoulders now. 

You ache to reach out, to touch him. To confirm that he’s real. 

You remember your place first and how to breathe second. 

You bow low, the picture of elegance. 

“Will you not greet me as you have in the past?” Dream asks. He does not walk so much as glide down the steps. You catch a glimpse of the never-ending night sky in the lining of his coat. 

You examine him, searching for a trace of mockery or a hint of anger.

Have you read my words, Dream Lord? You want to scream. I spilled my heart into the pages. Did you take care of it?

You say none of that. “I apologize for my delay. I received your notice to return to my post. What would you have me deliver, Your Grace?”

His head tilts slightly. “A notice? Is that what my writing was received as- an order?”

You try to not make your confusion overly apparent. “Was it not an invitation to return to my job here in this realm?”

“It was an invitation, yes,” Dream says. You wish it did not feel as though you were being slowly peeled open and examined under his careful gaze. “But intended as an invitation to welcome you back to the Dreaming.”

You nod, “So that I might continue my work for the Dreaming.”

“So that I might see you again.”

Hope is a foolish thing. It grows wings, beats at your ribcage, searching for escape. 

“I…” Centuries by his side, talking and conversing, vanish in a second. You search for the words and they slip through your grasp. Finally, you settle on the only truth that you can force from yourself, “It is good to see you. To know that you are well. I was… We were all very distraught by your disappearance.”

“I did not stay away by choice. I was held captive.” The Dream Lord’s eyes shine as he recalls the last century. 

Captive. The word is a punch to your sternum- it forces the air from your lungs.

You had guessed as much, in your many years of searching. Heard the whispers when he returned. You knew without any doubt that he would never abandon his realm- it had left few other explanations. The confirmation still stings like an open wound. 

“I’m very sorry. There are no words,” You say, gazing at the being you once considered a friend and blinking back a traitorous sting in your eyes. 

Your shoulders drop, a tenseness escaping them as you look at Dream. How silly of you, how childish, to only consider yourself. The repercussions to your own person. The Dream Lord has faced much more in the past century than you can even consider, and you dare to wonder if he read letters that you never should have written in the first place? Dream of the Endless has far larger and more important things to consider than you. 

You are glad for the reminder. There is comfort in your insignificance. 

You know Dream can sense the change in you- the way you finally settle into yourself as you remember your duty. Blue eyes study you, seeking to understand, tracking your movements.

“Is there anything I can do for you now?” You ask, breaking his gaze to flip open your bag. Ready to receive his message and flit off to the next realm. 

After you leave the Dreaming today you will be sure to find that secret place where you once locked away your feelings. You will remind yourself that this King does not consider you, could never consider you as anything besides your function. And you will be content with that- you would not spoil the lifetimes you have spent by his side with your own irresponsibility. 

Your feet shift beneath you, the cells of your being already prepared to take you to your next destination once you’ve received your orders.

“Be still for a moment, Messenger.” It’s not a command, but a request. Perhaps that is why it freezes you. Dream’s steps do not echo throughout the throne room as he draws closer to you, but they ring in your ears all the same. 

“You wrote to me all of those years, did you not?” Dream asks, voice soft and low. 

You’re ready to rip the fabric of the universe apart, dig your nails into the marrow of star stuff and pull if it will allow you to leave now and never return. 

The floor becomes your sole subject of intense study. 

“In your absence, I forgot myself. I must humbly request your forgiveness.” You blink hard. “I understand if your forgiveness is not granted, and I will, of course, abjure from your realm for good. I shall oversee that a more capable Messenger is sent in my place.”

His shoes and the edges of his coat brushing against the floor come into focus.

“You would be so quick to tear yourself from me…to sever the ties that bind us,” Dream says. You must imagine the low note of hurt in his voice.

“I would not force myself where I am not wanted. I have imposed myself for far too long.”

The Dream Lord drifts even closer. 

“Will you not even look at me, my Messenger?”

You have to force your gaze upwards to meet his eyes. You cannot hold it for long, your attention sliding to somewhere over his shoulder. You didn’t need to write him any letters at all- you know that under his eyes you are an open book. You bleed golden ink that spills and spells out your every thought. No matter how hard you try, you cannot stop it. 

“Lucienne informed me of your return to the Dreaming after my arrival.” Dream’s statement sends a bolt of shock through you, that your friend has so easily told him of your whereabouts. “I tell you this not as a reflection of Lucienne, but to offer an explanation. Once I was free, I went to retrieve my tools. My sand, my helm, my ruby.”

Your skin crawls, begging you to flee. You're sure he sees this as a kindness, his explanation. To tell you exactly why he has and always will see you as a Messenger and nothing more. Why would he have sought you out when far more important matters were at hand? 

“I needed them to repair the Dreaming and restore my power. But my motivations were even more selfish. I did not want you to see me as I was…Weakened. I could not have you behold me as anything less than what you deserve.”

You do not cry with the intention of being heard. The tear that escapes you does so without your acknowledgement and against your will. “Why do you cry, Messenger?” Dream asks. 

Another tear. It lands without grace onto the front of your shirt. “Because you are here. And you are whole. And that is more than I could have hoped for over the decades you were gone. And because I am very foolish indeed.” You spin away from him, palms scrubbing over your cheeks.

“You have never been foolish in my eyes.”

“No?” You laugh without humor. Brace a hand against your rampaging heart. “I have to leave.”

The pressure of his hand between your shoulder blades burns you. It is agony to be near him. 

“Why must you leave?” His fingers curl around your shoulders, even as you curve in on yourself. 

“Because of the letters!” You rip yourself from his touch, needing the space. Your tongue runs away as the fire reignites, blazing deep within you. “Because now you know! I can’t fashion a denial against them, they are mine. They are from me. And though I hoped without reason that one day I would see you again, I never stopped to consider the damage my words would do. I cannot stay here and be your Messenger. It hurts too deeply.” You take in a gasping breath, one arm curling protectively around yourself. 

He cuts the distance in a single step, bending the rules of his realm to step through the space. He stands before you, dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he looks at you. A newfound urgency possesses him. 

His hand cups your jaw, keeping your gazes locked. “I do not ask you to be my Messenger.” His thumb smooths a line across the tear tracks on your face. “I offer you my soul, my love- everything that I am and have.”

When was the last time the King of Dreams offered anything? Your lip quivers, brows furrowing. “Do you mock me?”

“And I would ask of you nothing in return, save one thing.” His other hand frames your face. Outside, the world is still. Silent. “You once wrote my name in your letters to call on me. Will you not say it now?”

“Morpheus,” Your voice is a breath. The name is a knife, lodged between your ribs. The name is an offering, given up at an altar. His lashes flutter closed.

He whispers your name in return. The truest name you have to give, not linked to your title. A name only said once before, when you gave it to him in a moment of friendship. 

It is not friendship that colors Morpheus’ tone as he whispers your name now.

He leans his forehead against yours, and you catch the end of his own shaky exhale that he does not need. 

“Morpheus,” you whisper again, just because you can. 

Because that thing with wings in your chest has made her exit and she soars high above you. 

Hope. Love. 

He kisses you and you taste lightning and ice, the last moments of a dying star, petrichor and honey. He rebuilds your existence in a touch. He is not hard or demanding, but wraps you in a gentle embrace. Morpheus holds you softly, as though you are a breakable and fragile thing. 

He pulls back enough and breaths your name- your name- against your lips. You steal it back from him by closing the miniscule distance between you once more. 

The length of his body finds a home against yours. Kissing Morpheus is as natural as traversing the stars that you have called home for so long. 

When you finally pull away to look at him, half in awe and not a little amazed, you can’t help but laugh. Pure joy spills from you. You have the vague thought that you can see the entire universe in his eyes.

“You are amused, my Messenger?” Morpheus’ hands rest against your hips, the touch sears you through your layers of clothing. He guides you until your back presses against a pillar. You card a hand through his hair, tangle your fingers there in the soft strands at the nape of his neck. You’re still cautious and slow with your movements as you shake your head. You try to smother your wry smile. 

“I am happy,” You correct. “Though, I must make one request of you before I give you my oath in return.”

“Anything,” He murmurs, his lips pressing along your cheekbone, then to your temple, the shell of your ear. It distracts you for a moment, drunk off his affection. 

“You have to get rid of my letters. I don’t like the thought that you can reread my pining whenever you wish.”

He hums low in your ear, “I will if you demand it, but I ask you to reconsider. They are a part of you, and I am not keen on removing anything of your creation from this realm.”

You sigh as though this is a great burden. Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp. “Well, when you say it so sweetly-”

Your words are gone with another kiss, more desperate than the last. As though the seconds apart were too much for him to bear any longer. You return it eagerly, open for him delicately and without hesitation. Your heart feels like it’s floating far above the two of you.

You break from him, stuttering in a ragged breath before reaching into your bag. Your fingers close around the small flower, drawing it out and holding it between the two of you. You guide Morpheus’ hand to open and place the flower in his palm, closing his fingers around it. 

You lean forward, your lips press against his knuckles. Sealing your vow. “I offer you all that I am and all that I have to give- though you have been in possession of my heart for far longer than now.”

Morpheus tangles your hands together. You let yourself hold him and be held by him. 

In the middle of your joined hands, the flower rests. 

[the-temple-of-deified-heroes]

Κανόνες Ναού!

{Temple Rules - Greek; Credits to @The-Aesthetics-Shop for the Dividers <33}

Χαίρετε! This Post is dedicated to the Temple Rules, What I Can Expect From You All, And What You Can Expect From Me!

--

The Temple Rules

Always Encourage & Invoke Xenia. Xenia is an Ancient Greek concept of Hospitality between the Host and the Guest, or two friends. This can mean a Guest brings with them gifts--physical or mental, in our case--while a Host provides them shelter from their journeys. To us, and this Temple, it means keeping to the line of peace, friendship, and provoking knowledge among our peers and respecting what we expect from you and keeping me, Neptune, to my duties as your host.

Take A Second To Calm Down & Step Back When Disagreements Start & Explaining Your Side Does Not Seem To Be Working. Look, I get it. I truly and utterly get feeling justified in your stance and wanting to explain to others your stance on something, but there's always that one point where trying to explain it further is just going to get everyone confused. When it gets to the point where it feels like you keep talking and talking and yet you're still not being heard, take a step back and encourage the others to take a recess for a little bit and then either return if needed or let it be. Everyone will be happier this way <33.

Please Do Not Bring Up Modern Political Events. It is not welcome here at our temple unless it is a warning of some sort of something dangerous happening that you need to spread awareness for. Do not bring any of it up because of your political views or for the sake of an argument--just present facts of danger and let the people that need to handle it, handle it. Otherwise, modern politics and events have no place here when "here" is meant to be a respite where you put up your coat and leave your mental burdens behind for just one space.

Explicitly Mention When Information You Are About To Give/Present May Be Faulty Or Is Not Fact-Checked. I do not mind in discussions when information is spread without specifically being fact-checked because it might be minor or you might be feeling lazy, but let us know that what you're saying might not be right so we don't spread it further or so we can fact-check it ourselves. This is one of my biggest things, again I do not mind it at all but please let us know so we can act accordingly. There's already enough misinformation/miscommunication on the internet out there, we don't need it in-house either <33.

--

What I Can Expect From You

A Friendly And Open Mind. There are many versions, rhetorics, origins, and interpretations of the Greek/Ancient Myths and so when others start speaking of a version differently from you, please respect that and perhaps even ask them how they knew this information and the sources they got it from. You don't have to change your own views/interpretations but it will at least tell you more information about The Myths and perhaps you can even judge the sources to see how credible you think that version is--perhaps it might even be enough to change how you see things.

Do Not Clutter Up This Space. "Clutter" can mean many things and the meaning absolutely changes between the person, but within this space, it means to not bring or maintain any negative energy, to keep your visit and stay here aligned with what you want to bring, and just to be respectful of the fact that this is a religious space and should be treated akin to the others', no matter how informal we may seem. [By "keeping your visit and staying aligned with what you want to bring," I basically mean to remember why you are here, among this space, and keep to that Honor and Respect you deem you should give it :)) {Feel free to ask more about this policy though :))]

To Interact As You Want To/Can. Again, I am merely a host for this Temple--I am solely here to participate among this Temple and to maintain its space like a cleaner--so this is a group effort to populate this Temple and fill it within the Honor and Sacredity it deserves. Please feel free to public celebrate Events, let us know important Calendar Dates, and just... participate! This is a public space, so use it as such! Celebrate as such!!!

--

What You Can Expect From Me

I Will Always Do My Best To Maintain This Space. I will try to post my asks in timely manners; I will make sure to delete harmful posts/comments so it does not "clutter" up out space; I will reach out to others and trusted sources to make sure that I am being the best Host of this Temple I can be. I will be open to others about my long-term absences so you do not worry about me or this Temple's absence. I will reblog everything you guys ask of me to--such as tagging--and I will forever apologize for any mistakes I make.

When Approached With Difficult Situations Such As Banning Others Or Taking This Darkly Or Not-So-Nicely, I Will Always Approach Others For A Second Opinion. No ban, block, or backlash will ever go without asking others if I am reading the situation wrong. I will approach it diplomatically and I will ask openly because I know that I make mistakes, especially in tone. This also applies toward Discord, where I have the other Temple Hosts and/or Priestesses/Priests to talk to about situations :).

I Will Always Present Source Material/Facts When Asked. This is a personal point of pride for me--I love knowledge and presenting it to others and so being able to present facts from reputable sources will always make me happy. Knowledge makes me happy. And so, if you ask about the knowledge I have and where I got it--especially for the Myths and I what I talk about within Mythology--I will gladly present my sources to you. All you gotta do is ask :))

Similarly, I Will Always Ask For Clarification/Sources When Faced With Something I Do Not Know/Immediately Agree With Via My Own Knowledge. Again, I love learning and being able to learn more via others and what they know, but I also have a personal and "professional" duty to this Temple to know what type of information is being spread--if it is credible, incorrect, or nuanced. From there, I can interpret it either as exciting to add to my own knowledge, perhaps misinterpreted, or something to talk about among The People. But never once will I ever judge you for getting something wrong/reading it wrong/or anything else, I am merely asking for clarification so we're all on the same page. This request is also for the transparency of everyone else so they can figure out what they want to do with this new knowledge. It's never personal, just informative :).

I Will Forever Take Accountability Of Myself. I commonly use the phrase "feel free to kick or kill me if I'm overstepping," and I mean it. It's apart of my own morals to be able to take whatever backlash my actions deserve. Of course, I'm not aiming to have any backlash, but inevitable it will happen and if I can't take that, then that's on me, so feel free to shout at me or "kick or kill me" if there's something going on that you don't feel is right over here. I am willing and ready to learn. That is what this Temple's all about!

*As always, feel free to reach out for clarification or to ask if things seem unfair or you want me to add something! Πρέπει να φύγω! [Goodbye/Gotta Run!]

[philosophicalscribe]

It was an unproductive day. 31/07/2024- 21:09.

Not all days are the same, and this was one of such days. I'd say my curiosity took over my duties today. I worked on the internship tasks and obviously attended the office.

But instead of studying, I spent my remaining day studying a mix of topics, like the power of the subconscious mind, how writing your goals does miracles etc. If you ask me what my toxic trait is, it's this, when I get into reading or creating something, I miss studying sometimes.

But hey, here is what I learnt, and I hope you find this useful. So, you're diving deep into the world of self-belief, self-efficacy and understanding intrinsic rewards. Let's dive into the Intrinsic reward portion in this post.

Reward Systems, Dopamine, and Internal Motivation

How Rewards Affect Internal Motivation:

Our impression of time and effort is influenced by dopamine. Making a significant effort in hopes of receiving a reward later on can make it seem less fun and more difficult. For example, in a Stanford experiment involving nursery and kindergarten students, the children were asked to paint. The children who enjoyed painting were rewarded with gold stars in this classic. After some time, the children were not given a reward for the paintings. Their innate desire to draw waned as the rewards stopped.

Recognizing Baselines and Peaks in Dopamine:

Our dopamine baseline decreases as we receive rewards.

Cognitive interpretation: we do things for the reward rather than the activity itself. This may make the enjoyment of the activity itself less.

So, we've to make sure that we're doing the hard work without attaching it to an external reward for better results. This also aligns with the principles outlined in eastern philosophies like Taoism where it is advocated to do the things for their own sake without expecting external rewards.

The perception of time and dopamine:

Our perception of time is regulated by dopamine. Time seems longer when we pursue something in anticipation of a reward later on. Rewarding actions solely upon completion.

Developing an Attitude of Growth:

Having a growth mentality entails rewarding work and always looking to improve. According to Carol Dweck's research, performance is improved by concentrating on effort. Dopamine can be accessed during exertion to improve resilience, energy, and attention.

Methods for Increasing Self-Stimulation:

Do not start or sustain projects by adding further layers of dopamine from outside sources. Subjectively link the sense of work to a system of internal rewards. Develop the mentality that the effort itself is enjoyable. Reframe conflict and difficulty as beneficial and gratifying.

Putting These Strategies into Practice:

Remind yourself that your effort matters while you are putting in a lot of work. Understand that at first, this strategy may feel like lying to yourself. And in a way, it is lying to yourself for a greater cause. Recognize that your goal is to make the effort seem worthwhile in and of itself.

Useful Advice:

Do not spike dopamine right before or right after exerting yourself. Concentrate on releasing dopamine throughout the actual endeavor. To make this way of thinking a reflexive response, practice and repeat it. So, this was all about today. I hope I added value when I couldn't make it productive for myself. Let me know if you want to read more of such stuff.

TLDR:

If you really want to sustain efforts for a longer time while you're studying, start loving the effort part of it, at least fake it for a while and you'll fall in love with the process of failing, reattempting and learning.

PS: Failing here doesn't mean failing your exam lol. It's just about learning through trial and error.