#good as new!! you just got scrambled then organized then scrambled again and reorganize to the first way again ^^

[triptychofvoids]

sighhhhh it's been one of those days....I can and will enthusiastically volunteer to be vivisected by medic

(I can be normal I prommy guys. Just not right now. Right now I need to be meticulously examined by the most gender guy ever. Augh)

-☎ anon, sooooo normal and full of typical thoughts (feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable or anything /genuine)

if medic has a bad day i guarentee you he would love to methodically tear someone apart and organize then reorganize them piece by piece so maybe one of these days youll be in luck dear anon

[hookingminor]

hey if you’re still taking requests from the list thingy from a bit ago, can you do number 1 or 2 with elias pettersson? thank you so much!

1. taking each other’s hands during a stressful situation, instantly relieving the pressure of the situation

ok I won’t lie this is really fucking cute and I love it lmao ok time to go fail another final in an hour :)

-

You were a nervous wreck. Any minute now she was going to arrive.

Elias could only watch you bounce around the home organizing and reorganizing everything from the pillows on the couch to the decorations on the table to rewashing dishes thrice over. A deep sigh sounded from behind you before Elias reached around to grab the towel you were wiping the table down with from your grip.

“Can you calm down please?” He asked softly, turning your body to face him. Your brows were drawn together in worry as you bit your lip, and Elias took your fidgeting hands between his and brought them to his lips.

As soft as he’d spoken, he kissed your knuckles with the same tenderness. He gave you a stern look, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Elias waited until you’d breathed a few more long breaths before he let his glare drop, but you did feel a little better now.

“What if she hates it here? What if she hates us?” You questioned quietly and averted your eyes.

“She won’t,” Elias replied confidently. “No one could ever hate you. We got this, okay?”

Before you could mumble your agreement, the doorbell rang through the house, and your nerves spiked back up within a second.

“We got this,” Elias said, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He waited for your confirmation before opening the door. “We got this,” you repeated, and followed his lead to the front door.

“Hi there,” the adoption specialist, Ms. Bates, greeted enthusiastically. Beside her stood the adorable five year old you’d met a handful of times with a backpack on, half hiding behind Ms. Bates’s legs.

“Hi! Please come in,” you opened the door further and allowed the agent and your new daughter into the home.

Ms. Bates let Anna take the lead, and she looked up at both you and Elias with big doe eyes as if she were asking for permission. “Go on,” you encouraged lightly. “You can look wherever you want.”

She gave you a shy smile before walking around more comfortably now. The sound of her footsteps alerted your spaniel of her arrival, and it only took a couple seconds before he was rounding the corner with an excited expression on his face. Max jumped eagerly around her feet, sending Anna into a fit of giggles, and she plopped down onto the ground so she could pet him properly.

Of course, she’d been told you’d have a dog and the social worker made many visits to your home before signing off on the papers, but it was a relief to see both of them getting along. Max licked her face and smelled her hair, and you could already tell the two were going to be good friends.

“I have just a few more papers for you to initial on, Mr. Pettersson, and then I can let you guys get to know each other,” Ms. Bates said.

Elias nodded, “We can go do that in the kitchen.” He turned to you, and Elias swore he could feel your nervousness. “Why don’t you go show Anna her room, babe?” He suggested.

The duo left you alone in the living room, and you pushed past the lump in your throat. “Hey, Anna,” her small head whipped around to look at you, “Would you like to see your room?”

The child nodded emphatically and scrambled to her feet, and you could only smile at the way Max trailed her steps as she followed you up the stairs. You’d grabbed her small suitcase on the way and led her down the hall where she had her own bedroom and bathroom.

“Ms. Bates said your favorite color was yellow, so that’s why we decorated it like this,” you explained as she took in the vast space. “If you don’t like anything we can go shopping and you can pick out whatever you want.” Your heart was pounding in your chest in anticipation of her reaction.

Anna dropped her bag by the dresser and jumped onto the low daybed and rolled around. Her excitement caused Max to jump onto the mattress next to her, and the two let themselves get acquainted.

“This is all mine?” She asked in wonder. You nodded.

“The bathroom is all yours too. Mine and Elias’s bedroom is just down the hall,” you said. “We’ll give you a tour whenever you want.”

“Can Max stay here with me?” She questioned, and you nodded again.

“I’m sure he’d love that. He usually sleeps with me when Elias is away,” you chuckled.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs as you heard the faint conversation between Elias and Ms. Bates. The two appeared in the doorway just a few seconds later.

“I think that covers it all,” Ms. Bates smiled. “I’ll let you guys have some family time. Are you alright if I leave now, Anna?”

“Yes,” she said happily, the licks from Max making her giggle again. “Bye, Ms. Bates!”

Ms. Bates said her goodbyes to you and Elias before saying she would show herself out, and you let out a deep sigh of relief. Elias pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. You watched in silence for a few moments as Anna mimicked Max’s rolling around on the bed, wide grins across everyone’s faces.

“We got this,” Elias murmured into your ear, and you could feel his smile on your skin.

“I know,” you hummed, happy and ready to start your new life as a family.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Bite

Summary: To say the least, Hange's last month of pregnancy turned out a little bumpier than what Levi would would have liked it to be.

A New Year's piece of Levihan Domestic Fluff. Happy New Year everyone!

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes:  I know I've been writing a lot of fluff lately but yeah, just me coping with this being my first ever New Year's stuck at home with our family not together this year. Sorry for my French but Fuck Covid.

The house was quiet.

But that's how Levi wanted it. Hange was eight months pregnant after all. When she was carrying a fragile growing mini person inside her, he would rather she stayed quiet anyway. The peace and calm of the household was an improvement from the clack of rock to wood and her humming. It was a sign at least that Hange was finally getting the well needed rest that came with carrying an extra human.

But it was just a little too quiet. Too quiet for it to ever be comfortable for Levi. Levi had to note that it was past noon and Hange should have been up, playing around with whatever rocks she had on the workbench or at least sitting on the sofa reading a random book from the bookshelf in the dining room.

She probably stayed up late last night. Levi thought to himself. That thought was quickly shot down when Levi recalled that she had actually slept much earlier than him.

Of course, she's eight months pregnant. Levi attempted to scramble for other reasons for that silence as he started to give in to the nagging worry. When Hange was home, she was always making noise. Levi found it almost eerie that the noise levels were down to when Hange was out for work. All he could hear were the clatter of pans as he placed them on the sink and the simmer of the fire as he started to prepare lunch.

After I finish making lunch I'll check on her. Levi promised himself.

Levi had been up since five and had not entered the room again since then. It was for good reason. Hanger was notably crankier than usual, particularly in the mornings. Carrying an extra human to term had her having rough days every day and Levi just wanted to be a little more careful with his cards.

He turned on the radio by the kitchen window. Having an extra voice at least even if it wasn't Hange worked to alleviate some of that discomfort. He had started on reorganizing one of the cupboards when the radio whirred to life.

Hearing the man on the radio was oddly comforting. He never did leave the house as often as Hange so the radio had been his anchor to real life. With Hange home more often, he never needed to turn it on, Hange always had her own personal talkshow going on when she wasn’t asleep. Either that or he was too busy worrying about her to even have time to focus on the happenings that day.

For the first time in so long, he had the time. Enjoy it while you can. Levi told himself as he started to ponder what the news of the day would be. Having lived a long life constantly being chased in the underground that eventually evolved into a life killing man eaten giants, Levi found listening to the societal problems that plagued Paradis almost calming.

He had been dubbed ‘humanity’s strongest soldier’ and had been fighting man eating beasts and preventing the fall of humanity for a huge part of his life. Yet at present, most problems that made their way to Paradis were at least solvable by the average conscripted soldier or the average office worker. More than half the time, no one was actually in danger of dying. A significant improvement from the Paradis he grew up in.

Listening to the happenings on the radio, he was reminded of the joys of retirement. He indulged himself by listening to the last few parts of a radio drama and news on preparations for the fireworks festival that night.

The world is so peaceful. Levi had been daring enough to think that statement to himself.

“Breaking news!” It was as if the radio had sentience and read his mind, wanting to prove Levi wrong as if to say ‘the world will never be completely peaceful.’ “We just received word of a hostage situation in one of the warehouses in the Southern port.”

A wave of panic ended up running through him. It could have been from the tone of the reporter or Levi’s own instincts. Calm down. You’re not a soldier anymore. This isn’t your problem. It wasn’t at all new for Levi to react like that internally. He had an unnaturally strong sense of urgency having lived a life of danger for too long. He willfully brushed it off and attempted to focus instead on cutting the vegetables for the soup he was making for lunch.

“More information is coming in…”

Having spent most of his days alone in the house with nothing but a radio for a companion, Levi had mastered the art of multitasking, being able to pick up all the details of the radio article over the sound of the pots and pans, the sound of plates being stacked or the whistle of the kettle.

A gang car jacked one of the buses on the way out of the Southern port.

Gang holds hostage in the port fireworks which were slated to be sent to the capital for Paradis’ first ever New Years Celebration...

The fireworks were ordered more than a year ago…

Levi knew enough at least to understand what would have pushed people to steal them. Hange had mentioned it once during one of her rambles. She had been the one who had suggested they buy fireworks from Marley and celebrate New Years more than a year ago. It was apparently a highly anticipated festivity every year in Marley and having been so excited at the idea of celebrating it in Paradis, Hange went overboard with the organization. They had sent people to Marley to train with handling fireworks and had gone over multiple displays before deciding on one, which ended up being one of the more expensive options.

But it will be beautiful. Those words echoed once again in Levi’s head. He recalled seeing stars in her eyes as she said it.

Eventually Armin had taken over and with Hange’s hand out of the project, Levi had forgotten about it until he heard the details of the hostage situation over the radio. I wonder what Armin’s doing about it. A food for thought he reflected on while he prepared the ingredients for boiling.

“The police are assessing the situation as we speak.” Levi was aware they couldn’t give the exact details, the hostage takers could be listening in.

Another report came in a few seconds later. "The escaped hostages have confirmed the hostage takers do not have a radio on site. No chance of them listening in." 

Levi found himself silently commending the escaped hostages for noting such a small detail. He hadn’t expected civilians to be that sharp especially in such a stressful situation.

“We escaped through the vents with one brave woman’s help but she had to stay behind.”

“How many are left inside the warehouse?”

“Just her.”

“Couldn’t she escape with you?”

“No sir. She doesn’t fit.”

“Doesn’t fit?"

“She looked like she was at least eight months pregnant.”

A pregnant woman in a hostage situation? Levi’s ears perked up at that. His thoughts flew to whoever that woman’s poor husband could have been. He had his own pregnant wife after all so he was quick to sympathize. Despite not believing in a god, he found himself sending prayers to that phantom husband. I hope someone at least informed him.

Levi kept his attention on the radio news as he mixed the ingredients and the spices for the soup.

“We have to get her out soon then.”

“She said she’d be fine. She even called the hostage takers amateurs.”

Levi was familiar with hostage situations though to know it was in their interest to keep their hostages alive. When taking the risk though, losing meant losing a life and Levi found himself sympathizing with whoever was left. Maybe I should call Armin? After I wake up Hange.

“But she could end up dead.”

“She said they wouldn’t.. On the off chance they did, she could defend herself.” Despite having just come out of a hostage situation and seeming concerned about a pregnant companion they had left behind, the woman talking on the radio seemed convinced that the pregnant woman could take care of herself.

How can an eight month pregnant woman defend herself though? Levi was starting to get a little more interested in the identity of the pregnant woman. There were two possibilities, she was a pregnant woman with a screw loose in her brain or she was an actual genius, Maybe he could ask Hange to ask Armin about it and they could learn a thing or two from her.

“She used to be in the military… And apparently had dealt with worse situations before."

So she was from the military? The military was a small community and Levi was sure he should know who it was. Was anyone pregnant though… Other than Hange?

Levi had racked his brain for a few seconds considering all the possibilities. Except one.

He did not know how many minutes he had spent considering the other possibilities before moving on to the exception. Yet that possibility was just outrageous. So outrageous that Levi had to ask Hange even if it meant waking her up from her nap.

Sorry for interrupting your sleep Hange, I just heard about an eight month pregnant woman who used to be part of the military and got taken hostage in a warehouse by the port. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you. Levi rehearsed his lines quickly as he made his way to the bedroom. It sounded ridiculous the second time he repeated it to himself. At that point though, it seemed worth it.

Levi’s heart started to beat faster as he entered the room, he could almost hear it. It could have been from the fear of waking up that lump on the other side of the bed or the fear of finding out it was just a pillow.

He never found out where that fear came from. It turned out the pillow was just a lump. Before Levi could even process his bodies’ reaction to the suspense and that harsh realization, his body went into survival mode. It came as a torrent of unintelligible emotions reminiscent of his fights against the beast titan and the invasion of Marley.

Just like it did then, his survival mode switched on and his instincts took over. Levi’s body was moving much faster than his brain. He called a taxi to take him to the port.

It was an option ten times more expensive than the shuttle but the price was the last thing on his mind.

                                          Bite

The crowds on the port were large and Levi was disappointed to find out that many of the people there were uniformed policemen. He pushed his way through the crowd clutching one of the men in the front by their collar. “Why the hell are you not moving? You probably outnumber the hostage takers at this rate!”

“But sir… we don’t have orders. And there’s one more civilian inside.” The uniformed policeman who had answered Levi seemed a little too unsure and inexperienced that just listening to him made Levi miss his comrades in the survey corps all the more. That man looked like he had never fought in his life.

“Fuck this, I’m going in.”

“Sir are you sure? I think those men inside are armed with some very high end guns. We can never be too careful.”

Armed with what? Levi had been pitted against guns, thunder spears, man-eating giants and the king of all these founding titans. Despite the big ham the policeman was making those weapons out to be, Levi was not nervous at all.

He ran towards the building and in that few seconds vacillated between breaking through the window and bursting through the door. He had to act fast. Behind him, he could hear soldiers and policemen screaming at him to stay back and if he allowed himself a brief moment to stop and consider the situation, they might actually catch up.

Levi took a glance at one of the windows as he ran. The guns were on the table. Their guard was down. Levi found himself all the more disappointment at the policemen as he did. How the fuck is anybody not noticing that.

He crashed through the window where he had seen the guns on the table.

He never gave them time to pick up the guns. Even during that small moment Levi had allowed them as he took stock of the situation, they did not even attempt to dive for a weapon.

Levi and Hange did not have many things that could have served as a weapon in the house. Having only allowed himself a few seconds to get ready, Levi used the time to turn off the stove and cover the pot he had used to cook the soup. The only thing that he had managed to grab then was the vegetable knife that sat on the board he had used to cut vegetables that morning.

Levi though had worked with knives for years. He had also mastered the art of looking menacing even with the most mundane household objects as weapons. Even if he didn’t look menacing and the five hostage takers weren’t frozen on the spot, Levi was sure he still had enough agility left inside him to slit all their throats before they could shoot the gun. Preserving life had always been part of his principles though and he found himself giving the men the luxury to talk.

“Please! Don’t kill us!” One of the men begged as he fell to his knees. The others soon followed suit.

“You take hostages and you expect us not to attack?”

“We just needed money. Just give us money for the fireworks and we’ll be off your backs.” The first man who had kneeled explained. He looked to be their leader.

Levi kept his eye on the weapons on the table as he listened to the men. “This is a crime. I should be turning you in.” He had expected that to at least provoke the men. Alas, he had expected too much from them. All they did was kneel on the floor in defeat, their eyes downcast.

He approached the guns on the table and he could hear the men whimper as he did.

“The guns are broken,” one man said nervously. “We couldn’t get them to shoot.”

Of course you won’t get them to shoot. They need to be loaded first. Levi knew those guns too well. They were the guns Kenny and his police used after all. He had been at the end of that muzzle enough times to last a lifetime.

These hostage takers are amateurs. Levi had to admit, Hange probably would have been fine in this situation even if he didn’t show up.

“Where are your hostages?” Levi did not need to focus on the guns. Even if the men dove for them, Levi was sure they wouldn’t be able to shoot them.

Levi heard a kick behind him and one of the men nervously made his way beside Levi. “Over here… er sir.”

He was led to a dark room at the end of the hall. He kicked the door open, not bothering to wait for the man next to him to get the key.

The door opened to a room with many empty chairs lined up, one of them occupied by someone, someone Levi recognized almost instantly by the large belly and the fact that he had been seeing that face everyday for the past five years of his life.

Hange was there, sitting on a chair her hands tied behind her. As she looked up at them, Levi could see she had a face of overexaggerated terror for a while. For that split second, she was faking it. Levi had known her enough to know that. Within that second, it had twisted into something else, guilt and possibly actual terror.

“Levi… it’s nice to see you here,” She said. Levi had been with her enough to see that was the terror she exuded when she knew she had done something wrong.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at home?” Levi kept his voice cool, calm, feigning an expression of fake surprise. He was sure Hange would see through it. In fact, he wanted her to see through it.

“I would have been home by noon.”

“Answer the fucking question.”

Hange avoided his gaze. “The fireworks. I wanted to make sure they got to the capital safely.”

“You are an eight month pregnant woman on fucking leave. Why the fuck can’t you leave this to Armin.” He asked in the form of a statement. A statement he very much wanted her to reflect on.

“Armin and Mikasa are on a business trip to Marley. Besides, these are the expensive fireworks I ordered,” Hange explained. A shitty explanation which Levi refused to buy.

“The expensive fireworks Paradis ordered. We’re going home.” He approached Hange, ready to cut up the ropes behind her only to see there was nothing tying her to the chair. Of course. The others had gotten away. And the only person who could have helped them was Hange.

He noticed their means of escape in the form of a vent. It was closed yet, somehow Levi could tell it had been disturbed by its relative cleanliness when compared to the room that was covered in a layer of dust.

For a second, he had considered going out through there. The layer of dust and the large belly of Hange only made it a not too appealing option. “We’re going out through the front door and----”

And we’re leaving the rest to the police. They should be competent enough to arrest them at least. Levi would have wanted to say. That was until he heard the sound of gunshots.

Not the gunshots from the old military police guns. Those are the police guns.

“We surrender!”

The next thing he heard was an explosion then unfamiliar pops.

“The fireworks!” It was Hange who had answered that question of what that popping was. From seeing her crestfallen face, Levi was sure she had not intended to answer his question.

“We’re going out through the vent then.” He pulled Hange from her seat, making a silent apology to the baby inside her. “Can you hold your stomach in?” A dumb question to ask his pregnant wife but Levi was desperate.

It turned out though she didn’t need to squeeze her way through. The vent had been big enough for her to fit through without having to hold her stomach in.

And Hange should have known that. Hange wasn’t an idiot. In fact, Levi was sure she had better spatial reasoning skills than him, seeing as she had been in charge of the recent infrastructural developments over the years.

When he had carried her far away enough from the fire and the consequent blast, he had started to understand why she had been so adamant not to leave in the first place.

“The fireworks!” Hange was kneeling on the grass, a safe distance away from the blast and sobbing. “We paid so much for this Levi… This was supposed to be our first New Years celebration…” The intelligible words devolved into babble and Levi wondered whether that kind of emotional stress would be good for the baby.

At least, the hostage takers had gotten out safely. Levi thought, a desperate attempt to see light in the situation.

                                           Bite

“So let me get this straight. You stayed behind on purpose?” It had been a good few hours since the incident and it still took Levi some effort to talk to her calmly. Levi understood at least that he had a duty not to cause her any more stress especially right after what had happened.

She had shut herself in the room for a good hour or so as soon as they had gotten back. Levi had made sure to check on her a few times since then since she was almost as quiet as that pillow that had pretended to be Hange that morning. By evening, her face was still red and her eyes swollen.

To Levi’s relief, she had replied, a significant improvement from her catatonic state. “We were looking forward to some grand festivities and those fireworks were expensive.…” Hange mentioned the cost of the fireworks and Levi was sure that amount was the fund of the survey corps for one year.

With the price of the fireworks, he was somehow starting to sympathize at least. “You sure we don’t need to go to the hospital?” He asked, his voice a little gentler.

“No, it’s okay I’m fine.”

Levi did believe her. She had little to no scratches on her and she was still walking normally at least. It was her almost catatonic state which troubled him. He could give that until the next day. “We still have next year for fireworks,” he said, an attempt to comfort her.

A moment later, he started to hear the familiar popping. “Is that fireworks? I thought they got destroyed?”

“Yeah, those are the normal fireworks. The ones I wanted to see were the expensive ones I ordered last year.”

So we had fireworks already? Levi found himself moving to the kitchen mechanically, with the one goal of making himself a cup of tea. If he allowed himself any emotion then, he probably could have strangled Hange at that moment. “If you wanna see the fireworks, you can go down.” Just another precaution, he set for himself so at least he was a safe distance from her

The kitchen was near the window and although they were in one of the upper floors, he should be able to hear Hange’s footsteps as long as the windows were open and he concentrated enough.

The tea was calming and it kept him more alert to Hange’s footsteps. Just in case she did something else stupid. He wasn’t at all feeling trusting that particular night.

He had expected to hear footsteps, leather on wood or cement. For a few minutes, that was what he was hearing.

A few minutes later, he heard something he hadn’t expected to hear at all. In fact it was something he probably wouldn’t have had to listen closely to hear.

A loud squeak then a surprised scream from Hange.

                                          Bite

The last place Levi would have expected to spend New Years was in the hospital.

He had expected Hange to have done things during her pregnancy which would have ended up with a hospital visit. Never in his life would he have thought that it would have been from a rat bite and it would have been eight months into her pregnancy during New Years day.

“I tried to sit on the dumpster because it had the best view and there was a rat there...” Hange explained to the doctor from her bed in the emergency room.

Levi had stayed silent as Hange went into detail. He tried to tune it out himself, knowing ‘bitten by a rat’ was all he needed to hear for his whole body to shudder. Being drenched in titan’s blood seemed like a better alternative.

“I recommend you stay overnight. We’re uhh… going to have to talk to some doctors in Marley about this. I don’t think we’ve ever had a case of a woman getting bitten by a rat in her third term. We’ll have the nurse set you up with a room.” With that, the doctor left and it was just Hange and Levi together in that little corner of the emergency room.

Hange lay back on the hospital bed, her belly making a giant hill on top of her. It was so unnaturally large that Levi realized he wouldn’t be too surprised if the baby came out at any moment.

“You know Levi, I think he enjoyed today. He was kicking my belly back in the warehouse,” Hange quipped playfully as she rubbed her belly. Levi noted that the line that connected to Hange’s hand must have been some sort of painkiller or sleep drought. Hange’s smiling face was a brief respite from her crying face that afternoon, even if it was medicine-induced.

“Or maybe he thought you were a complete idiot.”

“You know… When I heard the window crash, the baby kicked harder… I think he knew daddy was coming to save us.”

“Or maybe he knew mommy didn’t need saving after all.” Levi returned her playful smile with a glare.

“Hey, you had fun. It was just like the old days...”

Fun?  Levi wouldn’t have used that word at all. Getting shot at and being almost eaten on a regular basis wasn’t fun. Not knowing when you would die wasn’t fun. As Hange had mentioned the word ‘old days,’ Levi did start to realize he had been a little disappointed to see the men hadn’t shot at him.

He put a hand to his forehead. “Do I actually miss fighting?” He pressed harder into his forehead as if that action was enough to push some sanity back into his brain. No one should be missing a war. “Hey Hange, do you miss it?” He wanted to search for some assurance at least that he wasn’t the only one slightly insane.

He looked back at Hange to see the latter had dozed off, her face fixed into a warm comfortable smile, her hand resting on her belly.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring. It could have been minutes or hours. His trance though had been broken by one greeting of “Happy New Year!” then a few soft cheers and some light clapping. Levi wasn’t too worried that Hange would wake up. She looked to be in a deep sleep.

Levi put his hand on hers, and even with one hand beneath his and the belly, he still felt it, a light small kick. He’s coming out soon.

He leaned close to her ear, taking in the rare sounds of her relaxed breathing before he whispered his own greeting. “Happy New Year… Next year we’ll see the fireworks together, all three of us.”

It was a promise only he would have remembered. But it was a promise he vowed to keep.

[starship-squidlet]

 “I’m going to pogo stick my way out of here”

Ahhh I’m sorry it took me so long to write this!!! I set it in the Theatre AU, so I hope that’s okay, and I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt from this list

Word count: 1,075

“Ugh,” Elaine groaned, heaving a misshapen plastic bin stuffed full of fabric up onto the cutting room table. “This is my least favorite thing.”

“I thought you said you liked inventory,” Sarah laughed, already marking off a new section on the sheet of scrap paper in front of her. “What’s this one?”

“Uh… Polar fleece, bin two of three.”

“Two of three?”

“Yeah, but… Where are the other two?”

On the floor on the other side of the room, Crutchie laughed. He was surrounded by piles of jewelry that he was sorting, reorganizing, and inventorying for the updated costume storage binder that the three of them were working on. They had quickly discovered that very little of the organizational “system” in the cutting room—or costume storage in general, which was also spread over the sewing and receiving rooms on the third floor, as well as most of the basement two floors down—made any sense, and was horribly out of date, as things had been thrown out and added to storage without being logged in the inventory lists. Fabric storage was possibly the worst off, and Elaine and Sarah had been slogging through the wall full of storage bins for almost the entire week, pulling out, measuring, logging, and refolding fabric cuts, swatches, and scraps, while Crutchie sorted through endless drawers, smaller bins, and other storage containers full of things like pocket squares, jewelry, socks, undershirts, and much more.

In the rest of the theatre, the boys on the crew were doing similar work. Jack and Albert had been pulled by Weisel for props organizing, and were up to their elbows in dust and dirt in the storage hole above stage left. Jack pulled a plastic bin off of a shelf and began to sputter and cough as a cascade of dust and a handful of dead bugs poured off down onto his head. “Gross,” he groaned, trying to brush it off, onto the floor instead of the other props around him.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Albert made a face as he ran a finger across the top of a toy drum, leaving a streak in the layer of dirt there.

“Why do we keep some of this stuff?” Jack asked, opening the offending bin to reveal that it was stuffed full of cheerleader’s pom-poms.

“Christmas stuff needs to be saved because shows are recycled, and you never know what you might need for them when they get redesigned anyways,” Albert droned, repeating the line that they heard regularly from Weisel and the other authority figures around them when similar questions were posed. “And other stuff is really the same thing: you never know when you might need it again.”

“How often do we really need cheerleading pom-poms?” Jack asked, holding one up and shaking it, the plastic rustling.

“Well, we did just use some for Ovation, last summer,” Albert mused. “None of those, obviously.” Both boys laughed, Jack shoved the pom back into the bin, and placed it on their pile of “things to ask Weisel if we can please throw away”.

.*.*.*.*.*.

That afternoon, as the crew was wandering out of the theatre into the brisk winter air—not cold enough to need anything more than a light jacket, and a few of the boys weren’t even wearing those—they were chattering cheerfully amongst themselves, happy to be out in the bright sun and fresh air.

“Hey, Laine, Crutchie,” Jack grinned, appearing between his roommates and slinging his arms around their shoulders as they headed for the front of the building to walk home. “You guys find anything cool today?”

“Check it out!” Elaine said, holding up a misshapen white tophat, the tags still attached. “Brand new. They couldn’t use it for the show they bought it for, ‘cause it was so messed up, so Weisel said I could keep it. It was going to get thrown out otherwise, because of the way the brim is warped and stuff. Perfectly good—well, not good, but useable—and brand new.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Jack asked.

“I dunno,” Elaine shrugged. “But it’s cool.”

Jack laughed.

“What about you?” Crutchie asked. “You guys find anything cool or weird or whatever?”

“Oh, yeah; check it out.” Jack pointed across the parking lot, towards Finch, Elmer, JoJo, Albert, and Race clustered together near their cars, laughing about something. As they watched, Albert’s head popped up over everyone else’s, bobbed up and down a few times, and then Race and JoJo lunged to catch him as he fell.

“What is that?” Elaine laughed.

“Come on,” Jack grinned, steering the other two towards the group.

As they got closer, the object Albert was holding became visible: a pogo stick.

“Where did you find that?” Crutchie asked as Albert started to climb back up onto the device, JoJo hovering worriedly behind him in case he fell again.

“Props hole, over stage left,” Albert grunted as he took a test hop forward. When he didn’t immediately fall over, he kept going, making it almost a full six feet before losing his balance and starting to fall.

“Albert,” Elaine groaned. “You’re going to kill yourself.”

“Or at least break something,” Finch grumbled.

“No, I’m not,” Albert grunted as he untangled himself from the pogo stick. “I’m going to pogo stick my way out of here.”

“Pogo stick your way to death, more like,” Race laughed.

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Albert retorted.

“I’m literally watching you right now. I have the appropriate amount of faith.” ”I’m getting better,” Albert protested.

“That’s what everyone says,” said Finch, “right before they fall and break their face.”

“I feel doubted,” said Albert.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” said Finch. “The only thing I don’t doubt right now is that you’re going to get hurt.”

Albert stuck his tongue out and started to climb back up onto the pogo stick, only to immediately start to fall towards the asphalt, a look of horror frozen on his face. JoJo scrambled to try and catch him, the others lunging uselessly forward with no way to cross the distance in time to help, but he managed to get a foot down to partially catch himself to avoid slamming into the pavement.

“You okay?” JoJo asked, helping Albert once again untangle himself from the pogo stick.

“Yeah,” Albert laughed sheepishly. “Maybe you guys are onto something. There’s a slight possibility I should get some pads before I try and master this thing.”

[kasienda]

Restorative Justice - Chapter 1 Community Circle

Summary: Chloé has never been a fan of Ms. Bustier’s community building activities. In fact, she detests them. She doesn’t want to learn about the drab boring lives of her peers. And she absolutely can’t stand it when their confessions make her feel things. Feelings that she doesn’t even have names for. But when Adrien unknowingly shares his struggles with his double life, Chloé vows she will do anything to get Ladybug set things right. Even if it means pissing off the heroine. Chloé was already mad at her anyway. Chapter 1 - Community Circle

The morning could not have gone better for Chloé Bourgeois. She had a new outfit that flaunted her form and matched her bee themed jewelry perfectly. The house staff had been incredibly complimentary of her assemble, the chef had made her favorite breakfast, and Sabrina had greeted her with her favorite coffee upon her arrival, which she had enough time to savor because her driver had hit all the green lights on the way to school. Then she walked into the classroom and every muscle in her body went rigid. The normal rows of desks had been disassembled and reorganized into a circle of chairs around a decorative centerpiece cluttered in silly and cute knick knacks laid in an artistic spiral on a colorful throw blanket. Chloé almost turned around and bolted immediately. “Good morning, Chloé! Sabrina!” Ms. Bustier greeted, her voice warm and welcoming. “Feel free to take a seat anywhere in the circle.” The blonde sighed. It was too late. She had already been spotted. Her shoulders fell and she stomped over to a seat. “Isn’t it great, Chloé?” Sabrina gushed enthusiastically as she took the seat to Chloé’s right. “We don’t have to do work today!” “Fantastic,” Chloé grumbled bitterly, inspecting her own nails in an attempt to distract herself. Sabrina was technically correct. They didn’t have to do any academic work whenever Ms. Bustier organized a community circle, but Chloé hated community circles. She would have preferred the academic work, honestly. Not that she could really articulate why she hated them. She just did.

Keep reading on Ao3 Keep reading on ff.net

“Oooh!” Mylene squealed from the doorway. “A community circle! These are my favorite days!” Chloé glanced at the clock already counting down the minutes until the end of the period even though it hadn’t started yet. The whole class filed in gradually. Marinette chose a seat on the exact opposite side of the circle, and Alya, Nino, and finally Adrien filled in the seats around her when they arrived. Marinette handed out croissants to her friends, which the other three accepted with delighted grins. Chloé’s eyes remained on Adrien, wondering for the millionth time how he had made friends so easily. She had always assumed he would struggle when he came to public school, and that meant he would have to hang out with her. Chloé had been beyond excited, but things hadn’t gone the way she predicted. And now, he felt further away than ever. Adrien didn’t need Chloé anymore. And sometimes, with the way he stiffened when she grabbed his arm or frowned when she was critiquing someone’s fashion choices, she wondered if he even liked her anymore. Had he ever liked her at all? When the bell rang, Ms. Bustier held up the usual set of six norms and guidelines for appropriate behavior during a community circle. Chloé didn’t bother to read them. “Please remind the people on either side of you what each of these norms means,” her teacher directed. Sabrina turned towards her, but Chloé turned stubbornly to the right, towards Max who was conveniently turned towards Nathaniel who sat on his other side, so Chloé wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Sabrina was quick to take the hint, and joined Rose’s and Juleka’s conversation instead. Chloé glanced at the numbered list. Speak your truth. It was the third item of Ms. Bustier’s Guidelines and Norms. Chloé scoffed and turned back to her nails with disdain. As if any of these plebians could understand her truth! “Are there any questions about what any of these mean?” Ms. Bustier asked, and glanced around the circle. No one said anything. Chloé rolled her eyes. This was the fifth time the class had gone through one of these. They all knew how they worked. “Does anyone feel something needs to be added in order for you to feel safe sharing?” And again, Ms. Bustier waited, but no one responded. “Alright. Then I would ask everyone to give a thumbs up if you agree to uphold these norms.” There was a slight rustling as everyone moved at the same time to give the hand signal. “Ivan, do you agree to these norms?” The teacher prompted. Ivan lifted his thumb up higher in response. “Chloé?” Chloé sighed before she gave a half-hearted thumbs up. She had learned the hard way that if she didn’t agree, she would just get locked into a conversation about what she felt she needed to be safe within the group. And it’s not like she could say she didn’t like it when other people shared personal things. She didn’t know why she didn’t like it. She just knew hearing the details of their drab boring lives made her… uncomfortable. No, uncomfortable was too mild a word. Chloé literally felt like she couldn’t breathe at times. And in those moments, she wanted nothing more than to clamp her hands over her ears, and flee. At least Ms. Bustier never forced Chloé to share if she didn’t want to. That was the only reason she hadn’t thrown a fit with administration about these community circles. Having gathered consensus from everyone, her teacher had started the circle by reading a poem. Ms. Bustier referred to these as mood pieces. Today’s poem was something about looking past the surface or something. Honestly, Chloé didn’t really know. She wasn’t listening. “We’ll start with a check in question. What has been a rose and thorn of your month? Is there anyone who would like to go first?” Alix raised her hand.

Ms. Bustier smiled warmly and gestured an open hand toward the centerpiece. “Please select a talking piece.” Alix darted from her seat and considered the arrangement of knick knacks at the center of the room, and chose a little stuffed bear before returning to her seat. “My rose would be that I’ve won three out of four bets against Kim,” she announced with a smirk, drawing an amused chuckle from the class, before passing the bear to Mylene on her right. Mylene spoke so quietly that Chloé couldn’t hear what she was saying, not that she was actually trying to listen. In fact, it would be better for everyone if she didn’t hear any of it. When the soft brown stuffed bear came to her, Chloé passed it to Sabrina without a word. Chloé always passed. “My thorn would be that I lost three out of four bets with Alix,” Kim drawled out, earning another laugh from the class. Chloé sighed and glanced up at the clock again. Forty-two minutes remained. “My rose would be that I got to go on a date with Ondine. She’s divine,” Kim continued. “Hardly,” Chloé mumbled under her breath. “Chloé, would you take a step outside for a moment?” Ms. Bustier asked calmly. Chloé stomped outside the classroom, but honestly, when the door closed after her exit, her body loosened in relief to have escaped the awkward circle. It was far better to sit outside with her legs dangling over the edge of the balcony and the paved courtyard below. Out here, it was quiet. She didn’t have to listen to anyone else babble on about their mundane achievements and struggles. Unfortunately, her teacher joined her not three minutes later and the teenager scrambled to her feet. “Chloé, do you know why I asked you to step outside?” Chloé nodded, her fingers fiddling with her belt. “The comment I made after Kim shared his rose.” Ms. Bustier nodded. “And do you think your comment upheld the norm of speaking with respect?” Chloé gritted her teeth. “No,” she admitted, her gaze lost over the railing. “What about listening with respect?” Chloé glanced up at her disapproving teacher, and looked back down into her hands. Bustier was the one teacher she wanted to think well of her. Ms. Bustier was the only teacher that seemed to care about her at all. “No…” “You agreed to uphold these norms, did you not?” Chloé bristled. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. “I did,” she bit out. “Chloé,” her teacher said more softly. “I know these activities are not your favorite days.” Startled blue eyes flew up into the gentle face of her teacher. “You do?!” Ms Bustier coughed, with a closed fist covering her mouth. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, and Chloé suspected her teacher was trying not to laugh. “You make it very clear. But I want you to know I think you could get a lot out of them if you actually let yourself engage in them. You might learn something about yourself.” Chloé turned away again. She didn’t want to learn more about herself. What if she didn’t like what she found? “I cannot force you of course. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, but I do need you to uphold these norms during the activity. Do you understand?” Chloé nodded. “I understand.” The red-headed teacher poked her head back into the classroom. “Kim, can you join us for a moment?” A few seconds later, the broad shouldered jock with his stupid haircut came through the door and stood just a pace away. "Kim, Chloé’s comment was directed at you. What do you need in order to feel okay with her coming back in?" He turned his gaze towards her, and he grinned. There was nothing friendly about the expression. He was planning something. Don't you dare! She mouthed at him. If he said he wanted an apology she was going to get sent to the principal's office and threaten to call her father. Damocles was way easier to intimidate than Bustier. And Chloé would not apologize. “It's fine, Ms. Bustier,” Kim said easily, his smile never fading. “We are all used to Chloé at this point. She can come back in.” At first Chloé was surprised, but then she realized the dumb jock knew exactly what he was doing. He was making her come back to the fucking circle. Bastard! Their teacher indicated they should head back inside the room with an open arm. Chloé went first, her hands clenched into fists, Kim followed behind, with Bustier in the rear. Chloé slid into her seat quickly and continued to try and ignore everyone around her. Ms. Bustier cleared her throat loudly to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright class, for our activity today you will need a piece of paper and a marker. There are several colors for both paper and pens for you to choose from at the center of the circle. After you have your materials, you are going to trace your hand onto the paper.” Chloé scoffed. Trace their hand? What was this? Kindergarten? “Outside of your hand, write the things people see or assume about you. On the fingers, write down what you wish they saw instead. On the palm, write down what you hide from the world. Directions are on the board if you need a reminder. Go ahead and begin.” Chloé didn’t move when the class scurried into action towards the centerpiece, which stored the materials for the activity, but Sabrina brought her back a piece of yellow paper, and a black marker. Chloé smirked. At least Sabrina brought her the right colors. Chloé took an inordinate amount of time tracing her hand. Sabrina and Max had already filled in the outside of their papers, and had started working on filling in the fingers when Chloé finished tracing her hand. On the outside of her drawn hand, she wrote ‘Queen’, ‘Stylish’, and ‘Powerful’. It was only three words. A glance to her left and right showed that Sabrina and Max had written half a dozen more adjectives or features on the outer section of their papers. Chloé didn’t care. She didn’t need more words to define her. And she definitely didn’t bother filling in the fingers. She didn’t care how people saw her. And even if she did, she wasn’t going to admit that to anyone, let alone write it down on a piece of paper for all her peers to see. So instead, she tapped her marker on her table without any pattern or rhythm glancing at the clock every few seconds. Twenty nine minutes to go. She suppressed a groan. Could time go any slower? “Alright!” Ms Bustier called. “Raise your hand if you need more time.” Chloé flipped over her page to hide that it was incomplete. When no one raised their hand, Ms. Bustier continued. “We’re going to count off in order to randomize our discussion groups. After we’ve done that, please find the other two people in the room that have the same number as you.” Chloé was assigned a three, which put her in the same group as Mylene and Alix. But as luck would have it, Sabrina ended up with Ivan and Adrien. It took all of five seconds to convince Ivan that he could be with Mylene if he just swapped numbers with her. No one said anything about her manipulation of the random assignments, and Ms. Bustier was circling around on the other side of the room, so Chloé doubted that the teacher would notice before they were all deep in discussion. Sabrina jumped right in, holding up her purple piece of paper with her hand traced neatly in green with a dozen words written out on various parts of the page. Her friend pointed to the outside of the traced hand first. “People often say that I’m bubbly, helpful, a good listener, and people often remark on my red hair. I’ve also been told that I’m useless and I’m a fashion disaster,” Sabrina explained excitedly. Chloé did not react outwardly to Sabrina’s words even as her gut twisted uneasily. The blonde girl glanced down at her nails. It had really been too long since the Chloé had bought Sabrina a gift. Her friend might like a new handbag or an organizer for all her headbands. Sabrina definitely deserved to be spoiled on occasion. “But really,” Sabrina continued her eyebrows rising into her forehead with excitement. “I wish people would see that I’m intelligent and that I work hard.”

“You’re also very loyal,” Adrien interjected with a soft patient smile. “You give unconditional support to your friends. That’s something I really admire about you, Sabrina.” Chloé’s eyes jumped to his face. How could he just say all that so easily? Really, it wasn’t fair. Sabrina’s cheeks turned pink, and her hands clutched either side of her face in embarrassment. “Why thank you for saying so, Adrien!” Chloé sighed. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised when Adrien made friends so easily. He was naive and socially awkward, definitely. But… well, he was also always so… earnest. Even with her. “Chloé?” Sabrina called softly. Chloé’s gaze jumped up to both of her partners staring at her expectantly. “What?” she demanded impatiently. Neither Sabrina nor Adrien flinched at her tone. She loved them for that. “Did you want to go next?” Adrien clarified, pointing at the folded paper in her left hand. Chloé glanced down at the folded paper. “Ah, no. That’s okay!” she exclaimed, giving Adrien a bright smile. “Why don’t you go first, Adri-kins?” He nodded. “Sure Chloé. Whatever you want.” He opened his green paper to his hand traced in black. Chloé rolled her eyes at the Chat Noir color scheme. He had even drawn a little cat emoji on one of the fingers. Not very subtle, Adri-kins. Sure, Chloé dressed up in Queen Bee colors all the time, but Chloé had never bothered trying to keep her identity a secret. Adrien was so obvious sometimes though. She didn’t understand how no one had figured him out yet. “People say that I’m attractive, rich, and incredibly fortunate. Apparently, I’m quite the catch.” His tone was light, but Chloé knew better. He hated that people saw him that way. Hated that he was objectified and pursued by those that had never met him. “I wish people realized that I’m just a regular kid.” See, that, Chloé did not understand at all. She had no desire to be normal. She was far above normal. And so was Adrien. “And I wish people knew that I was funny,” he continued. Chloé burst out laughing. “What?” he demanded, his voice sullen and petulant. She just shook her head. “You might try to be funny, Adri-kins. You don’t often succeed.” He pouted. It was adorable. “I just made you laugh, didn’t I?” “Keep telling yourself that,” she commented dryly. But she smiled at him just the same. He smiled back. “As for hiding from the world?” he continued, an arm behind his neck. “I would have to say loneliness.” Chloé’s smile evaporated. “I feel like even when I make a connection with someone, I have to hide half of who I am. No one seems to even want to see all of it,” he confided. Chloé’s gut twisted painfully. She had always assumed that he had abandoned her when he had come to school and made new friends. But she never really let him be himself either. She had mocked his corny jokes and self conscious habits. And she had done nothing but scorn Chat Noir before she realized who he was. Her arms crossed over her stomach, squeezing her own form tightly. God, Chloé hated community circles! Why couldn’t they be writing an essay right now or something? She didn’t want to feel this way! Or feel anything at all, if she got to choose! “Chloé?” Sabrina’s concerned voice cut into her thoughts. “Are you okay?” Chloé made herself smile. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be anything other than stellar?” she bit out. Adrien arched a golden eyebrow at her tone, but didn’t comment. “It’s your turn,” he told her instead, once again gesturing to her yellow paper. She bit her lip. She really didn’t want to share it. There wasn’t anything to share. “Raise your hand if your group needs more time,” Bustier’s voice rang out throughout the room. Sabrina and Adrien both started to move, but she shook her head emphatically at them, and their hands dropped back to their sides. “Alright then, if you would please return to your seats for the closing.” The class burst into movement again. “It was nice chatting with you both,” Adrien said with his usual patient smile. Chloé nodded in acknowledgement. “You too, Adrien!” Sabrina gushed. Chloé turned to go back to her seat only to bump shoulders with Marinette. Chloé sneered at the other girl, feeling even more animosity towards her long time school rival than usual. Adrien said that he had never been able to share all of himself with anyone. That included Ladybug. Marinette’s blue eyes narrowed into an icy glare of her own. “Don’t think I don’t know that you cheated to be in Adrien’s group!” she hissed. It was more to be with Sabrina. Adrien was just a bonus, but there was no way she was going to explain that to Marinette. “You’re only upset because you didn’t think of it first,” Chloé bit back. “Alix, Kim, Marinette, Juleka, Chloé! Would you please rejoin us in the circle?” Chloé turned on her heels without a glance at the others, and settled back into her seat, her arms folded across her chest. There was only nine minutes left of class! One more question, and Chloé would be free. It couldn’t come soon enough. Ms Bustier smiled warmly at the whole class from her own seat within the circle. “I want to thank you all for participating today and for being brave enough to be vulnerable with each other today. I have one final closing question for you all before you depart. What is something you’ve been struggling with this month? Take twenty seconds to think about it,” she directed and allowed the room to fall into silence. Chloé slid her yellow flats against the leg of her chair absently. She didn’t bother thinking of a response to the question as she wasn’t going to share. It was a terrible question anyway. “Is there anyone who would like to go first?” Ms. Bustier’s resonant voice called out. Chloé cursed under her breath when Max, still at her right, raised his hand to go first. At the teacher’s direction, he moved to the center of the room, and selected an item - a replica of Ladybug’s yoyo, before returning to his seat. “I’ve been struggling with a bug in Markov’s code. I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking of potential solutions, but so far nothing has worked.” He handed the talking piece to her. Chloé practically threw the cheap plastic toy at Sabrina as if it was a piece of hot coal that would burn her. Chloé was not about to share her struggles. She would not give anyone in this room the satisfaction or a weapon to use against her. “Our geometry homework has been really long and complicated,” Sabrina shared. Several of their classmates nodded in agreement. Chloé’s shoulders relaxed, releasing tension she hadn’t realized was there. If they were all just going to whine about hard math problems, Chloé could handle it. “I’ve been struggling to identify my sexual identity.” Chloé’s gaze jerked up at the vulnerable pronouncement. Alix didn’t even blush as she passed the yoyo to Kim. The jock fiddled with the toy for a second, not speaking. Just flipping it over and over again in his hands. “I…” he swallowed and started again. “My mother is sick,” he confessed. “And I’m not sure she’s going to get better.” And it was all too much. Chloé’s skin crawled like a colony of ants had taken up residence. She rubbed frantically at her arms, losing the battle to sit still. This was why Chloé hated circles. She tried not to listen as the spotted talking piece was passed around the room. It went through Rose, Juleka, Ivan, Mylene, and Nathaniel. Chloé was able to tune it all out. “I’ve been feeling… overwhelmed,” Marinette admitted even as she spun the yoyo in her hands. “I have so many responsibilities, and I’m terrified that I won’t be able to live up to them all on my own. And I’m scared it will be someone else that pays the price.” The silence roared in Chloé’s ears. How she wanted to dismiss Marinette’s fears as being an over dramatic teenager. But she couldn’t. Chloé knew exactly what Marinette was talking about. On god damn it all, Chloé actually felt bad for her. For the weight on her shoulders. She didn’t want to feel this way! Certainly, not about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And definitely not about Ladybug. Chloé was still angry with Ladybug. Marinette passed the red and black yoyo to Adrien who took it with a smile before turning back to the circle. He also stared at the talking piece for a second before sharing. “So many people in my life claim to care about me. But then,” he trailed off and glanced up to the ceiling then back down to the centerpiece in the center of the floor. “But I don’t think they actually respect or trust me. They just expect blind obedience. And I… I don’t know if I can do that forever.” And Chloé had no trouble hearing him. None at all even though he was clear across the room, even though he spoke barely louder than a whisper. It was like a prayer. One that not even Ladybug could recognize. So it was up to Chloé. She would have to fix this herself. Somehow.

[clockworkmoose]

Oof 2020 recap.

I stepped down from my job in... End of Jan? Early Feb? with the intention of 1. getting away from a crazy employee I was not being paid enough to deal with and was not allowed to fire, 2. Finally had enough savings that I wasn’t a constant ball of insecurity, and I could take 9 months off with no income before I’d start worrying, and 9 months felt like a good time frame to try and be self employed and sell crafts/plushies at conventions.

Because why wouldn’t there be a bunch of conventions to sell things at in 2020???

Not working 50 hour weeks was also supposed to give me time to plan August wedding, and make wedding dress.

March, start sending out wedding invites. Two weeks later, Cuomo shuts down the entire state. *~*Timing~*~

Send out “woops hold that thought” cards.

The fiance had to transition to teaching his classes over zoom, and making youtube videos, which ends up being a 12-hour, 7-day a week time commitment. On the plus there, that was a huge crash course in video editing he finally had a reason to learn. And serendipitously, me had his brother had gotten him a bunch of camera and recording equipment to bully him into doing movie reviews on youtube, so he actually had the stuff he needed to teach online effectively. He takes over half of my craft room immediately after I reorganized and spread things out to make sewing more efficient and organized. Sewing stuff gets re-squished back into the corner. :<

April, i sew so many masks. so so many. i do not like sew mask. ;~;

Etsy sticks more fees on their site! I make a website! Web design has changed a fuckton since ye olden dayes of neopet pet pages! I have no idea what I’m doing; can’t even add a glitter trail following the cursor around! Where is the option for autoplay music in the background! Lame!

Mid June, and no end in sight for, ...y’know, so we cancel August wedding and push our deposit back to 2021. Fiance was really bummed about not getting the specific date so like a week later the venue says we can still show up with a small group and get “official married” outside on the day. I’m not gung-ho for this at all, but James is, so we decide to do that; start scrambling. I make my dress but like. From what was supposed to be the first drape fabric, because fabric store’s still closed. I like it, but idk!

I didn’t think I actually cared super much about wedding details, like I didn’t have a “dream wedding” as a kid or have a moodboard or anything... All I was really hoping for was having family there since I only get to see all the cousins maybe once every 7-10 years, and making my own dress. Since big family gather was obviously not allowed, not even being able to make my dress in the way I saw it in my head was just kinda... disgruntling? I guess? Sad emotions I can’t really put to words, and not strong enough to overrule fiance having strong happy emotions about getting to keep our original wedding date.

New York gathering limit is raised to 25, so my family (6) and his (2) plus us and officiant (3) all get together and yay, officially married on August 1st! Until we get paperwork from NY state, and ha ha funny story, officiant signed the paperwork for August 2. Officiant apologizes, sends in a correction letter, so now we’re officially married on the 2nd, but have a footnote in state records that says *(actually it was Aug. 1).

So like, I’m happy we got married, that’s a happy part of the day, but 1. family wasn’t there, 2. didn’t get to make the dress I was hoping to, 3. we didn’t even get the fucking date we did all this for??? It’s a complicated mix of emotions and I’m finding myself just kinda ignoring the fact we actually got married instead of trying to grapple and force the positive feelings to outweigh the negative. SHRUG EMOJI HAHA. DEALING WITH OUR FEELINGS? SOUNDS SUS.

September, my former job reopens, asks if I want to come back, because the person I trained as my replacement ended up quitting because she didn’t want to come back. Neither do I.

October, they hire a new manager, and I end up going in to train her a few days, and cover for her a few more days, and now I’m on call to help out, because I am a big wimpy pushover and did actually really like my job, and like the new lady taking over and don’t want things to be hard for her.

November, I got glasses! I have discovered that the world should NOT be blurry when it is 10 feet away from you.

I know I struggle without a defined definite schedule and my brain latches on to any possible distraction, so this year has been heck. Mental health-wise, I’m doing much better now that I’m not in daily contact with chaos employee! But productivity and focus-wise? ZIP ZILCH ZERO. It has been a STRUGGLE. I don’t have a distraction free zone because of James doing work-from-home teaching, and I don’t have a defined schedule of social events and work shifts to keep me on task. I kinda feel like my brain has turned into a bunch of smokey fog that’s just kinda swirling around inside my head, and every once in a while I emerge and realize a week has passed and I have not checked my email or talked to another non-husband human being in that time.

Oh, and small schadenfreude update on chaos employee- she didn’t have a job until the state reopened, wasn’t eligible for unemployment during the shutdown apparently, her husband finally got the divorce he’s been pushing for for the past decade, and she had to sell her 5k$ sewing machine to be able to make the monthly payments on it. And when she came in to the store once it reopened, new manager had already been warned that she was banned from the premises.

But before she was chased out, she rambled on about how she thought the government was tracking her phone so she got a new one and didn’t back up any of her contacts, and she was hoping new manager would give her my number again because we’re “””best friends.”””””””  Manager declined to assist.

CHAOS LADY DOESN’T HAVE MY NUMBER OR ADDRESS ANY MORE. :D

[buckleyy--diazz]

Can you writte 60 or 61 for me in ziam ?? Thank you ❤

61.  “You’re Mine. I don’t share”

Ok, OMG let me start by saying how sorry I am it took so long to write it. I kept having ideas but was never able to actually write them and this morning this idea popped in my head and I wrote it. I went it the 61 since another person had also asked for it and I really really hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 💕

°•°•°•°

“Lou, I think I fucked up,” is the first thing Zayn said when Louis finally picked up his phone.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific because you do that quite a bit.”

“Fuck you, Tommo. I didn’t called you to go all smart ass on me.”

“Okay sorry, what happened?” Laughed Louis, annoying Zayn in the process but at least he was listening to him.

“I think Liam’s mad at me.”

“Liam? Mad at you? What have you possibly done to upset Liam? He’s a puppy, he never gets mad. And he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.”

“We, we went out last night and-,” started Zayn but he stopped himself. He didn’t know where to start.

“And what? Z, you called me you clearly needed to talk but I’m gonna hang up if you don’t tell me exactly what you did to upset Liam.”

“We went out,” started Zayn again, “and it was fun we were dancing and when I went to get drinks, when I came back Liam had this lad plastered to his back with his hands all over Liam and he was grinding against him.”

“Okay, I still don’t see why Liam is mad at you though.”

“I saw red and I might have pushed the guy away and I dragged Liam out of the bar,” continued Zayn

Zayn was shaking just thinking back about this man touching Liam, his Liam. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself.

“When we got outside Liam was screaming at me asking why I did this and I told him you’re mine, I don’t share. And then he left.”

“You did what?!” shouted Louis, “And you really wonder why Liam is mad at you? You’re a twat Zayn.”

“I tried calling him but he’s been sending me to voicemail since last night.”

“You’re a twat,” repeated Louis, “he doesn’t even know you’re in love with him and suddenly you pull this shit on him? How would you react if you were in his place?”

Zayn took a moment to think, at first he thought he would be happy but Louis was right. Zayn would be upset too if he had no idea his best friend was in love with him and did this, out of the blue.

“I’d react the same I guess.”

“Yes you would. You need to talk to him and you need to be sincere and tell him how you feel but first you need to apologize.”

“I’m scared of telling him, what if it ruins our friendship?”

“Seriously? I think you did a good job at this, last night. If anything this can maybe salvage your friendship.”

“Maybe, I hope you’re right. But anyway, he’s not taking my calls,” whined Zayn and Louis sighed.

“I can call him and try to convince him to talk to you.”

“You would? You’re the best, Tommo.”

“Yeah yeah, keep this for after I have convince him.”

*

Zayn tried calling Liam again but he was sent to voicemail once more. He needed to do something to occupy himself before he went nuts so he put his phone face down on the coffee table and decided to reorganize his cd and vinyl collection. Zayn had wanted to do that for a while and now was the best time and it would keep him from going crazy and checking his phone every 10 seconds.

Zayn was sitting on the floor in the middle of his living room with piles of vinyls all around him when his mobile vibrated on the coffee table. Zaun scrambled over, knocking one of the piles with his foot, to get his phone. He hoped it was Louis and it was good news.

You can call him, you have 5 minutes. He’s really pissed.

He’s really pissed. Zayn couldn’t stop reading the message, over and over and he felt his eyes fill with tears but now wasn’t the time. He wiped his eyes angrily with the sleeve of his jumper and dialed Liam’s number, hoping he would really pick it up.

“You have five minutes,” Liam answered, his voice cold. Zayn felt the tears coming back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been an arse, I’m sorry for what I did and what I said.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say Zayn? You think I will forgive you only because you said sorry? You think that’s enough?”

“No, but I have no idea what else to say, Li.”

“The truth would be great, if you tell me what this was all about his could be a great start.”

Be sincere, Louis said. Zayn knew he was right, he had to do it and tell Liam everything.

“I can do that but, not over the phone. Can you come over? Or I can come to you. Whatever you want Li,” pleaded Zayn.

Liam sighed and stayed silent for a moment. Zayn thought he would hang up and it would be done.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t, I still haven’t forgave you.”

Zayn hung up and tried to make his flat look presentable, he washed the dishes that he had let in the sink for the past two days and threw his dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner of his bedroom. He made his bed and brushed his teeth. Zayn was putting on a clean t-shirt when Liam knocked on his door.

Zayn walked to the door slowly, trying to swallow the ball that had formed in his throat. He had never been more nervous in his life. Zayn knew there was a chance Liam would never look at him again or talk to him again but Louis was right, it was already like that after last night.

“Hey,” said Zayn, trying to smile.

Liam walked in and removed his jacket, hanging it in the closet as he always did. Zayn did a small victory dance in his head. It was a small gesture but it was better than if Liam had kept his jacket on. Zayn closed the door behind Liam and walked to the living room where his piles of vinyls were still everywhere. It was the only thing he hadn’t cleaned because he intended to finish organizing them later.

Zayn sat on the couch first and Liam sat next to him but leaving more space than he usually did and Zayn felt his heart clench. He was used to have Liam plastered on his side whenever they sat on the couch to watch a movie or listen to music. Liam always sat between his thighs with his back against Zayn’s chest or Zayn would lay on his side and put his head on Liam’s thighs. Liam’s fingers gently running through his hair. Of course he hadn’t really expected them to sit like that today but it still hurt to see Liam sat so far from him.

“I don’t know where to start,” said Zayn, fiddling with his thumbs nervously, unable to look at Liam in the eyes.

“The truth would be great. I need you to tell me why you act like such a twat last night.”

“Because I love you okay, because I love you Liam.”

“You wha-”

“No please, let me finish and then you can do or say whatever you want, but please let me finish first.”

Liam nodded and Zayn started talking again.

“I love you, I have loved you for a while now but I have always been able to keep my feelings in check, even when I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest every time you left the club with someone, every time you have a boyfriend or girlfriend I haven’t said anything. I bottled everything up, kept my feelings to myself and put on a brave face for the sake of our friendship. Because your friendship means the world to me. I can’t see myself without you in my life. I love you and yesterday I saw red when I saw this lad’s hands all over you. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour or what I said. I’ve been a twat and if you never want to hear from me again I will understand and won’t try to contact you again. It will hurt but it’s your choice and I will respect it.”

Zayn was still looking at his thighs and Liam wasn’t saying anything. When he looked up he noticed Liam was crying and this was the last thing he wanted.

“Please don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“You love me?”

Zayn nodded.

“And you have been for a while?”

Zayn nodded again.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Were you ever planning on telling me?”

“I was scared and no, probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t feel the same so I didn’t see the point. It would just have made things awkward. Amd last night, I didn’t think before I spoke. This was some possessive and jealous bullshit. This isn’t me and I am sorry I said it.”

“What could make you think I don’t feel the same, Z?”

What? Was he really saying what Zayn thought he was saying. No, this was impossible.

“You never…I don’t know. I just know you never felt anything else than friendship for me.”

“You’re even more dense than I thought,” said Liam and Zayn made an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“Z, I spend most of my days and nights here. We sleep in the same bed and cuddle all the time. I pack your lunch for work, I leave you cute post-it notes on your sandwich because I know it will make you smile. I have missed days from work to take care of you last time you got a cold. Do you really think I do that with all my friends? Do you think I do that with Louis?”

“No, no I don’t. Oh my god, I’m really dense.”

Liam smiled and nodded.

“So, what now?” asked Zayn.

Liam shuffled closer and took Zayn’s hands between his.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Zayn smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, I will.”

“Don’t ever pull some kind of possessive bullshit on me ever again though.”

“I promise,” answered Zayn seriously.

“Now kiss me.”

Zayn didn’t have to be told twice before he closed the gap between their lips.

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 11

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

The news of what happened to the bookshop came to them in the form of a very early morning phone call from the London authorities a few weeks after they started the nursery. It roused Crowley from a particularly satisfying sleep. Aziraphale had already been awake as he usually was early in the morning. It had only taken listening into the first ten seconds of the phone conversation for Crowley to be wide awake and scrambling to get dressed. 

“A break-in? At the book shop?” Aziraphale parroted into the receiver. “Last night?”

“Shit,” Crowley hissed, wrestling his legs through the nearest pair of trousers he found. “Tell ‘em we’ll be there soon, ok angel?” Bottoms in place he threw on a t-shirt and jacket then began to gather together Aziraphale’s things. The angel had hung up after promising to make his way to London, and was now getting to his feet himself. 

“A break-in…” Aziraphale said again, giving Crowley a grateful look as he took the clothing. “I’m not sure--shouldn’t my alarms have gone off…?”

“Didn’t know you had an alarm system,” Crowley remarked. They were both dressed and trundling down the stairs towards the kitchen within minutes.  “Figured that’d be too high-tech.”

“Not a human one, dear. Wards, protections, that sort of thing. They should have gone off if anyone, human or otherwise, attempted to get into the shop,” Aziraphale explained as he began work on boiling the kettle. He got their two travel thermoses from the cupboard (Crowley’s own was a simple black, while Azirphales was tartan) and began to spoon in the appropriate amounts of sugar. 

Crowley was in charge of tossing together a quick breakfast for the road.  Leftover cake and biscuits might not be appropriate for a human breakfast, but he thought the angel might need to sugar. Aziraphale loved to comfort eat, and Crowley didn’t really see the harm, given that they weren’t really capable of getting sick. After he’d gotten everything together he snapped it all into the boot of the Bently and they made their way out to join it. 

“D’you mind if I drive a little faster than usual angel?” Aziraphale nodded mutely and they took off, speeding down the backroads onto the nearest motorway that would take them towards London. He swerved expertly through cars, applying judicious demonic miracles when needed. In a parting from the norm, Aziraphale remained silent, though he did cling to the armrest and door at each turn. The Bently behaved itself as well, playing something quiet and classical the entire ride. 

The two-hour trip took them a little under one and a quarter. As much as they both wanted to go straight to the bookshop, the police officer on the phone had told them to visit the station first. It was just a formality, she said. Crowley parked haphazardly in the station parking lot and ushered them inside. When the officers tried to get them into a room for questioning, he discretely snapped his fingers to make them believe they’d already given a statement. Aziraphale wasn’t looking too good, and he was still reticent while wringing his hand, so Crowley figured it was well worth the miracle to speed things along. 

The officer who had called them came with them to the bookshop. Crowley followed behind the cruiser in the Bently and didn’t even make a fuss about going exactly the speed limit. While sitting at a red light just before they got into Soho he glanced over and offered the angel an open hand. 

“Doing ok?”  Aziraphale startled a little, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Crowley kept his hand out in waiting, just in case he wanted to take it. After a few more quiet moments Aziraphale did and gave him a strained smile.

“Just worried, dearest. My wards have never failed before,” the angel said, winding and unwinding their fingers. Crowley knew it was strange. Aziraphale was Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden and his wards were not bypassed easily. It would take a very powerful force, or someone who knew exactly what they were doing to break them.

“We’ll get there and see what happened. Probably something stupid like a-a rat or something eating through your sigils in the foundation.” Crowley was willing that to be the case very, very hard. Because the alternative was that someone from their previous sides was still trying to mess with them and that this was a warning of sorts.

“OK, yes, you’re right.” The light turned green and Crowley followed the cruiser through. They were only 5 minutes from the shop. “I hope the books--I hope everything's alright.”

When they pulled up, the initial damage was as clear as day. Two of the front windows were smashed, and the front door was vandalized with spray paint. There was caution tape around the front steps, barely hanging on to the bannister. Aziraphale let out a little “oh”, wounded and shocked. It made Crowley’s stomach drop, though that may have just been the baby protesting all the hubbub this morning. 

“It’s ok angel, we can fix it. We can fix it,” Crowley murmured, holding Aziraphale’s hand a little more firmly. “We’ll listen to what the police-human has to say, and then when no one’s looking we’ll make it good as new again.”

Aziraphale nodded, still staring out the window. He was the one to let go of Crowley’s hand, and step out of the Bently first. Crowley followed, scrambling awkwardly out of the door. His belly was starting to cause a few issues in that department, but not so many that he was too frustrated yet. The officer they came with was also out of her cruiser and standing by the doorway. She waved to them slightly while shuffling her notes. 

“All the damage seems to be on the outside,” she explained, skimming through the reports. “Except for some scuff marks to the floor where the rocks they threw through the windows bounced.” Crowley let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“That's… good,” Aziraphale said, glancing at Crowley. “Isn’t it?”

“Very good angel. We can get the windows replaced and the door repainted in no time.” He smiled in pseudo-politeness at the officer. “Did you need anything else from us or…?”

“No, no. Just wanted to make sure you made it here alright. I remember this shop from when I was a little girl, it’s such a shame really.” The officer game them her card, then got back in her car. Crowley watched her go and made sure to carefully tuck the card away. In his line of business, you never threw out a perfectly good possibly contact. It was a hard habit to break, not that he really wanted to. 

As soon as the police car cleared the corner, Crowley snapped his fingers and got rid of the outside vandalism. He even added a little mirage to it, where any human who looked at it would think it happened slowly over the course of a few days. He’d tackle the inside with more care when they got inside; Aziraphale never did like using miracles on his books unless completely necessary. 

“Come on angel, let's get inside,” he said, resting a hand gently on Aziraphale’s lower back and guiding him up the steps. The bookshop opened its door automatically as Aziraphale reached for the knob, welcoming its owner home. Crowley followed swiftly behind, immediately taking in the damage. Glass from the broken window he hadn’t miracles away when replacing them. A few deep scratches to the hardwood where the rocks had landed, one stack of books knocked over, and a medium-sized stone laying amongst the collection. Nothing unfixable. Still, his chest burned with rage and indignation over whoever had done this. 

“I-I have a broom, just in the closet over there. I’ll get it and sweep up this glass, if you could be so kind as to fix up the floor?” Aziraphale asked, not waiting for a reply before heading down the hall to retrieve the broom. Crowley didn’t object, partly because there was no reason, and partly because he knew Aziraphale had gathered himself enough to but on a brave face, which was a good sign. 

They worked quickly, and before long Azirpahale had moved on to fixing the stack of books. Crowley left him to it, knowing the angel had a specific filing system that even Crowley hadn’t quite gotten the hang of, and went to go grab lunch instead. Fortunately, the smell of fish hadn’t made him nauseous in weeks, so it was no trouble to pick up Aziraphale’s favourite sushi. When he got back the angel was just finishing up.

“Oh Crowley! I’d wondered where you’d gotten to!” he exclaimed, looking much perkier than when they’d first arrived. Organizing the books often did that, and Crowley was glad to see his love back in high spirits. 

“Just popped down the road for a bit of lunch. Got all your favourites, and said hi to the chief for you,” he explained, holding up the takeaway bags. Strictly speaking, Aziraphale’s favourite sushi place didn’t do take-out, but when Crowley had called and explained who the order was for, he hadn’t even needed to use a Temptation. 

“Thank you, dear boy. You’re so thoughtful. You didn’t walk did you?” Aziraphale left the neatly stacked pile and followed Crowley into the back room and to the little table they often used to eat at when then still lived here. “I was just getting a pick peckish.”

“Knew you would be. Everything all sorted then?” Crowley asked, setting out the containers and miracling a plate. Even if the smell wasn’t making him sick, he didn’t want to push his luck. He might try nibbling on some of the tempura, but anything more than that was tempting fate. 

“Yes, yes. It was really only that one bunch that were out of sorts, but I checked the ones around it, just in case. Nothing else seems to be amiss.” Aziraphale took sushi from the boxes onto his plate, procuring a set of white chopsticks from thin air. “I do wonder who would have done something like this. I didn’t think I had any enemies.”

“Could be some of mine. Not sure if any of them would have the guts to do something like this, but humans are surprising,” Crowley offered, watching Aziraphale stack his plate high greedily. He made no attempt to hide his stare when the angel ate these days, especially when they were alone. It was a small pleasure, one that reminded him of some of the best times he’d had with the angel over the whole lonely 6000 years. 

“It’s possible. I hadn’t realized --well, I shall just have to take another look at my wards and make sure they’re up to snuff, so nothing like this can happen again.” Aziraphale seemed much calmer than when they’d arrived, which in turn helped Crowley to settle down. Yes, this was probably a one-off, just like he’d said in the car. Everything was fine. He leaned back on the familiar sofa, resting his hands on the swell of his stomach. 

“I can add some of my own. Always meant to, but I thought you might have accused me of meddling. And then we moved…” The purchase of the cottage had only come weeks after they’d confessed to each other, in the whirlwind of new and exciting experiences. He’d forgotten his intention to do anything with the bookshop's protections as soon as he’d been caught up making their new home safe. 

“That would be marvellous dear. My protections may be strong, but yours are cunning.” They lapsed back into a short silence, Aziraphale enjoying the delicate sushi and Crowley enjoying Aziraphale. It was a familiar scene, one that had played out hundreds of times in the backroom. Crowley basked in it, taking comfort in the ritual. In his relaxed state, his mind began to wander, flitting down to the subtle rolling he could feel in his belly. 

“They’ve been calm since we got inside you know. Thank they can tell this is one of your spaces.” Aziraphale paused just as he was about to pop a piece of nigiri into his mouth. The round redness of his mouth curved into a smile. 

“I won’t pretend the shop isn’t a sort of nest. It would be impossible to argue that,” Aziraphale laughed, getting up from his armchair to settle down beside the demon and lay a hand on his belly as well. “They’re getting so big, do you really think it’s only going to be 9 months?”

“If it's like a human baby.” Crowley had half expected his corporation to work differently, but they were still all created in her image, even if he was a demon. 

“Have you--have you thought about names?” Aziraphale asked, his voice barely a whisper. This was one of those topics that was clearly on the edge of being too much for Crowley, and the demon appreciated Aziraphale’s tentative approach. He was happy, comfortable and in a familiar space. She felt safe, despite the vandalism that had taken place not 24 hours ago. 

“Not really, been calling them something in my head though. Just a silly nickname.” Over the past few weeks, as the baby had become more and more active and begun to kick Crowley in the ribs with increasing fervour he’d needed a name to call them when he became exasperated. 

“Do tell! That is, if you’re comfortable.” Crowley miracled up his own pair of chopsticks. He carefully gathered a delicate piece of Tamago to feed to the angel. The way Aziraphale’s face lit up at the sweet, delicate morsel was enchanting. 

“I’ve been calling them Sprout. S’silly, I know, but--” Aziraphale cut him off with a muffled sound and a quick flap of his hand. 

“No no,” he said, once he’d swallowed, “I haven’t thought of a permanent name either, nevermind a nickname. And Sprout is very… fitting I think.” 

Hearing the nickname out loud, nevermind in the angel’s voice, made Crowley’s cheeks heat up and his heart flutter. There was a mild fluttering in his belly as well, that he assumed came from the baby being disturbed by the poking and prodding at his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah I thought so too.” He grabbed himself a bit of tempura leak and nibbling on it. “Dunno about real names, but we have time right?”

“Yes, of course. Do let me know when you have any ideas.” Aziraphale leaned forward over his lunch again, quickly demolishing the selection Crowley had picked up. “Do you think, dearest, that you could help me with the wards after lunch. Only if you aren’t already tired from going out, and driving us here.”

Crowley did a mental once over of himself and decided he was alright. His back ached a little, and his feet were a tad swollen, but nothing serious enough to stop him making the bookshop safe. They should probably do his Mayfair flat, while they were in London, though they’d need to extend their stay overnight. Crowley was sure that he couldn’t pull off two warding ceremonies in one day. 

“Sure angel. We can do my old place tomorrow maybe? Is the bed upstairs still fit to use?” he asked. Even though it was just after mid-day, he was beginning to feel a little sleepy. He’d always enjoyed napping, but it’d been sporadic, a few hours here, a week there. Now Crowley took almost daily naps, only two or three hours long at a time but extremely regular. Not to mention the vandalism had him feeling a little nostalgic and protective over the bookshop. It’d be nice to sleep in the first bed they shared as a couple again. 

Aziraphale looked off into the distance, like he was thinking hard about something, then snapped. “It should be now. Fancy a kip then?” 

“Mmhm, missed that stupid, fluffy bed of yours.” Truly a hedonist, Aziraphale’s bed was the softest, most extravagant thing Crowley had ever seen. Almost too much, which was why their bed at home was a little more reserved. But still, it was nice to enjoy a little bit of excessive luxury sometimes.

“Well then, let me just finish up here and then we can bang out those wards lickity-split so you can get to your nap. Thank you again dear, not just for lunch but for driving us here and handling the humans so well. You really do take such good care of me.”

“Pshaw, I do no such thing,” Crowley scoffed, nuzzling into the fluffy curls near Aziraphale’s ear. As the nausea had subsided, so did his sporadic distaste of the angel’s scent, much to both of the relief. 

“Whatever you say, dear. Don’t get too comfortable. I’m just going to finish this last roll, then we can start. So thoughtful of you, to get my favourite maki with tuna. My clever, attentive serpent.” Crowley made a noise of embarrassment and hid his face further in Aziraphale’s neck, pleased that he’d made his angel happy. 

Forbidding his eyes from closing, and his mind from drifting off, Crowley waited until Aziraphale was ready to get to work. The wards wouldn’t take too long--not with their combined experience--and then he could luxuriate in the bedroom for a good few hours. Maybe he’d be able to convince Aziraphale to bring his book to bed and join him. They’d gotten into the habit while Crowley had still been getting sick all the time and the angel had wanted to be close, but Crowley hoped they could keep doing it now. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Aziraphale at all, not if Crowley let him rest a hand on his belly as he slept, at least.

[askthealaskan]

OCT 16 2019

I woke up not knowing at first where I was. Boston. The answer came to me through a sleepy haze that only 4 hours of sleep brings. My plane was 2 hours late from my scheduled arrival at midnight and a ride to an affordable hotel an additional hour more. After a $50 cab ride I determined I needed a cheaper way back to the airport. So I asked the hotel, and checked with my phone, to find the best route. They both said catch the red train on the nearby MTA station. No problem I think to myself, Ill just catch a train. Twenty five minutes later a cab arrives. Is this guy the only cab in Boston I ask myself. It takes me awhile to realize I’m watching a species becoming extinct. Taxis are being “uberized.” I think to myself that I could be riding the last cab in Boston. We arrive safety to the station.

Ah the MTA. The station is humming and I feel like I’m back in a real city again. This must the MTA that Ive heard folk songs about the guy who never returned after getting on it.

I usually fly through these stations. I learned how in my backpacking years some 30 years ago before the internet was invented by Al Gore. Back then we had to carry guide books along to clue us into how each city’s system was set up. Still, we can have problems. My problem was since I was moving in, I was carrying all the luggage I was allowed by the airline to carry on the plane with me. I had two large bags each carrying just under the max weight level, and the two allowed hand carry bags. The killer was one of the hand carried items was small enough to qualify to fit as a hand carry, but it weighed as much as an anvil . I had devised a method of carry it all but it would take some organizing and a little time before initiating each stage of the trip.

There are two types of subway ticket gates in the world, one you grab the ticket back AFTER you pass through the gate and one when grab the ticket BEFORE you pass through the gate. Apparently in Boston its the later to the amusement of locals when out of towners try to pass through the gates with 4 bags at once without a ticket.

I refuse to be flustered I reorganize my luggage and instead adopt the New York attitude before I arrive at the platform. Im not sure what direction I need to go as a train pulls into the station. I quickly ask the guy next to me if the train is going toward South Station. I say it like Im going to “fire his ass” if he doesn’t give me an answer right now. It works and it is my train but not his. I scramble onboard with my bags in good order but take up two seats doing so. As the train gets closer to town the car fills up. Across from me the occupants watch me as I shift my bags around. They do it in the way big city people do - always avoiding direct eye contact but sneaking in glances when you seem to be not noticing. They are all women. One is black lady late 20’s and seems to be dressed for work someplace that requires uniforms. Next to her is a short older Vietnamese looking oriental woman sitting next to a young blonde white girl with a backpack. She soon reaches into her pack and grabs what looks like are lecture notes and is going over them with a high lighter ( do people still do that?) Standing next them is a young Japanese girl fashionably dressed with a handbag. She looks ready to do some serious damage to a credit card balance.

More and more get on the car and soon every seat is taken. As my train gets close to my station I begin to try to organize my burden in the only configuration that I have found that works. But that takes more time and space than a train stop allows. We arrive anyway and it is apparent I need help getting things off the train. The little Vietnamese lady speaks to me. Its obvious she doesn’t speak English but just as obvious she wants to help me. She offers to take one of the bags for me. I quickly evaluate my options and decide that I could probably catch her if she tried to take off with it. With her help Im able to get everything off the train. I start to thank her and retrieve my bag but she’s not done helping me. She takes off for the escalator looking back to see if I am following her. Nevermind that I had planned to use the elevator. I took off after her and up the escalator we went. When I reached the top she was just a little bit in front of me when I realized she was trying to take me to the airport train. She is thinking that’s where most people with luggage are going. I grab my bag and begin trying to communicate that to her while at the same time she is emphatically trying to explain in rapidly spoken Vietnamese that I needed to hurry. It becomes a bit of a scene and I hear a voice say “Can I help?” I turn around and a large nordic man with a beard looking like a New England Loster fisherman, however that’s supposed to look like, is standing there. It slows the Vietnamese Lady but doesn’t totally stop her. The fisherman explains to me where I need to go then hops on the train he was waiting for to come. The Vietnamese lady seems to have grasped my intended destination and takes me over to the elevator that I need to take me to the bus station. I thank her many times over and the door closes. Im free!

A friend recently told me I need to trust and let people help me. Today was reassurance that people are good and if you feel right about it, you should trust those instincts

Next its the three hour bus ride to Montpelier, the capital of Bernie Sanders land. I realize now that Boston is not the best place to fly into to get to where I’m going. Nothing really is. I booked the ticket, actually two because they limit bags to one per seat, before I left in case it sold out. No worries about that for this Wednesday departure . It appears this route is catered to students of Vermont University judging by the youthful faces hauling backpacks. A lady appears with a roster and checks for tickets. I fumble with pulling out my phone with the 12 digit ticket number. She grows impatient and waves me on board. It becomes apparent she has her own bus and is not the driver of this bus . The driver is beside her but he doesn’t speak. He has a scowling disposition that is clearly not suited for guest service. She’s obviously filling that role for him. I remember my days trying to recruit driver/guides to work the summers in Alaska. Very seldom did you find a candidate who could drive a 30 foot bus and have an engaging personality. My driver only mumbled stops. We took off for the three hour ride and it wasn’t until the bus arrived in Burlington that I should have gotten off a half an hour earlier at the park n ride. On the map It looked like the bus went right through MontPelier on the way to Burlington. Not so, it skirts the town. So I get off with the students and call my people at Country Camper. Its too late to pick up Morrison today so I tell them Ill catch the bus down in the morning. As I walk to a nearby hotel that wants to charge me a three figure price for a room, I pass by the transit station and see that there is a bus leaving for Montpelier in 20 minutes. I can get a cheaper room.So I haul my bags over to the bus stop trying not to look like the homeless person that I actually am. The bus driver pulls up and shakes his head at the load Ive got. He grudgingly allows me on the bus. He tells me that it wilI only be this one time. I assure him that it will never happen again. I pile my stuff in the front row of seats. The fare is $4 but I have no change. I show him a twenty Im about to put in the fare box. I tell him that since Im taking up four seats that I’ll pay for them. I try to explain that im a visitor and was not trying to disrupt his day. The next few stops he picks up regulars that catch his bus. We make the thirty minute drive over to Mountpelier and the bus empties most of its occupants at a park’n’ride. He ask me where Im getting off. I tell him Im not certain. He gets frustrated . I tell him im just trying to book a cheap hotel for the night and planned to get off where I could take a taxi to it. He says there is an Econolodge on his route and we head off. He takes right to the hotel and makes an unofficial stop in front of the hotel. He helps me to off load and wishes me well. The desk clerk who sees this comes down to help with the bags. I get to my room finaly and collapse.

People are basically good at heart and I am learning to accept their help.

In the morning Connor from Country Camper comes and picks me up. I have talked with many of the staff in the process of buying this rig. I know them by name, Conner, Dan, Thomas, Merwin, Krista. My arrival is highly anticipated, everyone wants to see the guy who came all the way from Alaska to buy the van. I try to explain that Alaska is far from anywhere else and if im going to fly it really makes no difference where Im going. The owner Lance pops out of his office to say hello and pretty soon I’ve drawn a crowd of curious employees and customers who want to see the Alaskan who came to Vermont to buy a camper van. When Im finally pulling out the staff has made their way outside to take pictures and wave goodbye. I have my Alaska License Plates on and looking good.

First stop is Walmart and Goodwill to get supplies. Lance has bought me a hotel room for the night. So I am staying I Downtown three blocks from the capitol. It reminds me of the Baranof hotel in the capital city I know so well. I don’t get back until 8pm and im starved. I try to google a close by place to eat. I head out but the place I chose cant be found. There is nothing else but this bistro. I enter and get seated. It becomes apparent that this place is out of my price range but im out of time. I order just the tomato soup. It was the best tomato soup I ever had.

The next day I drive out town with the goal of finding fall foliage. A storm hit the area and many leaves fell but the show was still good. I drive toward Green Mountain with the goal of generally heading toward Portland Maine. I follow my whims and that leads me to Darmouth before I turn to the north. I get tired so pull over on remote road and camp in my van for the first time. I have to admit I didn’t sleep well. The silence only accentuated the alien sounds that the coach makes. I ll get used to them.

In the morning I am up before the sun and outside early on the road. I see a spur road that the morning sun is lighting up nicely. I turn down it until I reach a good place to pull over and park. I take my camera and walk down the road and past some nice properties . I reach the end of the road when a car comes down the road with a yellow English lab sticking his head out of the window. The car stops and Im ready to explain myself and my intentions. No need to. Ive been approved by Blizzard Andy’s companion . Andy bounds from the car and offers to show me his property that I did not dare venture down without permission. He’s a carpenter and interested in my travel plans. I mention that I am looking for a builder for a piece of property that I own in Juneau. He is interested and we hit it off. Andy is in his mid thirties and unmarried. He hopes to build a house on his property one day. He was an extreme snowboarder on the circuit but one too many concussions ended his career. He gets around his home town of Romney New Hampshire and offered to take me around town. He takes me two a rock that has been split and craved by water. He waves at people he knows and they wave back. Its clear that he is well liked in the community. After touring and talking about everything from politics, travel, and even women we head for the ski resort in hopes of lunch and a possible ride up the lift for some potential great shots. Unfortunately the owners had closed the restaurant for a wedding. Back in town we went for lunch and Andy knows everyone. He introduces me and mentions my quest. They size me up like Im something the cat dragged in. Then Nick, the shop s owner, strides across the space between us to shake hands. Everyone else relaxes. Its clear that they are protective of Andy an want to be sure im not going to do him harm. But its clear by our banter that we share much already.

AFter lunch we visit Terry, a friend Andys my age who lives nearby. He is a graphic line artist and has a studio. When we arrive Terry is watching the last of a college football game featuring Terry’s alma mater Miami. We talk and Terry gets distracted from his game.It ends and we visit his studio. He teaches art at the local University and serves as the towns Bernie Sanders campaign chair. His wife pops her head into the room and Terry introduces me. She miles but then leaves without saying anything. Andy tells me she is battling Alhiemers disease. We don’t speak of it or of politics. We head out to his garage shop and Terry shoes me his work and how he makes his prints using plates. His work reminds me of a friend back home Evon Zerbets. After a while we leave but not after they share a bit of “Parkenson’s “ medication . Andy drops me off with Morrison . There is live folk music at the cafe that night but I regretfully decline the offer. In my younger days of trailing I would have been right there but “a man has to know his limitations” We say goodbye and exchange email . Hopefully Ii will see Andy again one day. In the morning I take afew shots down by the river that passes below Andy’s land then hit the road.

#AskTheAlaskan #morrison

[funniesandboxes]

You want an adoption prompt? Alright... Adoption prompt: Mr. Big (or maybe Koslov) literally made young Nick part of the family.

-LOUD HAPPY SCREAMING- This is legit something I have wanted to write since I like first saw Zootopia.  It’s like a headcanon I have, and now I get to share!

—-

Sunday breakfast at Orso’s was a Big family tradition.

Right after morning mass.  Way before the restaurant actually opened for the public.  The Bigs were there, enjoying whatever the genius chief, Anatoli had made specially for them.  Celebrating life and whatever victories and stories were thrown out.  Business was the furthest thing form their minds.

Mr. Big was not about to have that ruined.

Especially by some shinny fox a bus boy discovered while shoveling so snow in the front of the stop. 

Sighing, he glanced up at the fox, as one of lieutenants theorizes it to be the act of the Lupi Grigi on their terf.  The thing was barely even alive.  They were curled up on themselves, tightly for every bit of warmth.  They had weak labored breaths as they shook ever so slightly.  He could seen the wounds on their back, the tears of claws in their shirts, and the red that had pulled around them.

Mr. Big frowned at the dark red discoloring the lovely snow, snow his daughter and been pleading to play in.  Now it’s all ruined.  Just like his breakfast.

“Move ‘em else where,”  Mr. Big instructed.

That was his plan.  Move the fox somewhere else to die.  Somewhere else, were it honestly won’t matter to Big if someone found them dead or alive.  Clean up the blood and carry on like it was any other Sunday.  It was a good plan, a smart plan.  Guarenteed to keep the police away from his business.

Or that was the plan, till the door opened, and his Grandmama walked out.

She saw the body before anyone and even really do anything.  Gasping sharply at the sight.  “La povera volpe” she uttered.

“Grandmama,” Big started instistantly as he moved to stop the old shrew from advancing more.  “Go back inside with the others.”

However his grandmother simply moved around.  Carefully walking around the red snow.  She lightly laid her paw on the fox’s snout once she reached it.  The fox didn’t even budge.

“You’re must help him, il mio bambino,” Grandmama returned levelly.

“There is nothing I can do,” Big returned.  The fox should be dead.  Temperatures were at record lows the previous night, and the blood loss alone.  There was no doubt in his mind the fox was going to die, nothing he could do.  “They’re going to die.  It’s out of my paws.”

His grandmother looked down sadly at the fox.  Gently running her paws over the fur of his snout.  “Don’t let them die on the street.”  She said suddenly.  “Alone and forgotten.  Spare them that.”

Big opened his mouth to compromise at at least dumping the fox off at hospital.  However he could already see the look in his grandmother’s eyes.  The old shrew had already settled on taking the fox in his last few moments of life.  And she was going to eventually convince him into agreeing with him.  There was nothing left put to agree.

“Take the fox to my home and see that they are tended too.”  Big commanded, snapping his fingers at two of his polar bear guards.

–

“I don’t think he’ll make it past dinner time.”  The Doc declared as he packed his things into his bag.  The wolverine leaned in closer to Big before whispering, “He’ll won’t last till lunch.”

Big nod, the Doc’s conclusion doesn’t surprise him, even after the fox’s wounds were treated. 

He watched his grandmother carefully watch over the fox from her chair on the night stand.  He hoped for her sake it was fast.

–

The fox survives the night, by some miracle.  The morning he had a fever.  A high fever.  One that had him whimpering in pain and trapped in whatever dreamworld occupied his mind. 

He pulled some of his stitched when he suddenly sat bolt upright, only to collapse right back down.

Doc returned to tend to him. Stitched the fox right back up, treated an infection, and told Big, the fox wouldn’t make it past Tuesday morning if he was lucky.

Grandmama hummed soft lullabies every time the young fox whimpered.

–

The fox is very lucky.

–

Kevin dropped the young fox in front of Big’s desk. 

The fox kind of pathetically flops to the floor.  Long wiry limbs and weakness from illness and injury do not mix well.  He scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can, hurriedly glancing around the room.  Patting at his shirt and doing his best to appear as small and weak as possible. 

Which wasn’t too difficult for at the moment.

Big stared down at the fox.  He had gotten better over the last few days.  Bounds and bounds better.  Granted the red fox still looked like death slightly warmed over.  He was sitting up and talking with Grandmama and eating every damn piece of food anyone put in front of him.

“What’s your name?”  Big asked after a moment

“Ugh…Nick…”  He answered slowly. 

Green eyes shifting to every polar bear in the room.  It’s quiet clear he was more afraid of them than Big at the moment, which was fine.  It would shift eventually when he realized the towing white bears listen to the tiny little shrew.

Big hummed down at the fox.  The fox glanced at him for a moment, and the shrew jestured for him to continue.

“Wilde…”The fox, Nick continued, “Nicholas Wilde.”

“How old are you, Wilde?”  Big asked with some curiosity.  He knew the fox was young, still in his teens.  Still to lengthy and awkward in the limbs to be anything older than 20.

“Fifteen,”  Nick answered.

The number surprises Big a little.  Just a little.  Enough to wonder if the fox even had a family, or a place to go. 

“What happened to you?”  The shrew asked with a wave of his hand.

“I got attacked…”  The fox answered like it was the obvious.  “By some wolves.  No real reason for it, they willingly handed me their money an hour prior.”  Nick shifts slightly in his spot, as some of the bears mutter whispers of Lupi Grici and loopholes.  “I really showed them…”

Big leaned back in his chair with an impressed snort.

“Uh…sir?”  The fox spoke up, raising a paw slightly like he had a question in class.  “I’m thankful for the care and hospitality you’re…” Nick pauses, shifting to look at the polar bears again before looking back at Mr. Big.  “Family.  But, if I may ask.  Why am I here?”

“Because you’re a fighter, Mr. Wilde.”  Big stated.

–

Wilde is ambitious and smart. 

He reorganizes a failing business venture over night.  Gets two bookies to confess to actually stealing form Big, and gets them to cut their “commissions.”  He even sniffed out an under cover police officer before the bear even said a word to him.

Before Big new it the fox hand wiggled his way into his organization and family.  He sat next to Grandmama every Sunday breakfast, and Fru Fru just adores him, milking every minute she spent with him.  And became one of Koslov’s go to for making issues and problems disappear quietly.

The fox was just the right about of charms, wits, and need to please they he fits right into the folds.

He blended right in.

–

The fox is ambitious, young, and stupid.

Burned his bridges and ran when sold Big that butt rug.

The arctic shrew should hunt him down and ice him.  Or something worse.  But he doesn’t.

“Bambini, che rompono il tuo cuore.“ Grandmama tells him softly as he ranted to her.

–

The next time he saw Nicholas Wilde, the fox was with a rabbit, a police bunny rabbit. 

A police rabbit that saved his daughter…so mute point.

Big acted mad, but he had long since forgiven the fox.

—-

AN: Yes, this has been something I have been wanting to do forever.  It’s been a headcanon that Mr. Big found a young Nick injured and it was his Grandmama who insisted they take the poor fox in.  Grandmama nursed Nick back to help and he became part of Big’s organization.

All the Italian is from Google Translate, so yeah, sorry if it’s bad I know nothing.

[zipgrowth]

‘When’ Does Learning Happen Best? Dan Pink on the Science Behind Timing and Education

As the old adage goes, time is what we want most but what we use worst. Whether it’s sleeping or studying, or sticking with New Year’s resolutions, it often seems like there is simply never enough time. The crunch is felt especially among teachers and students, as they scramble through school days crammed with ever more activities and responsibilities.

So what’s the best way to make the most effective use of our limited time?

That’s the driving theme in the newest book from Dan Pink, the speechwriter, TV producer and acclaimed author of bestsellers “Drive” and “To Sell is Human.” His latest book, “ When,” draws on research from psychology, biology and economics to explore how timing impacts every aspect of our lives—including of course, how we teach and learn. For instance, what’s the best time to take a test? Why do kids need more breaks? When the school day is so packed with back-to-back classes and activities, how can students, parents and educators make the best use of time?

Pink recently talked with EdSurge about how his insights can help educators, and why everyone—kids and grownups—can thrive with less multitasking and more recess breaks. The conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity. You can listen to a complete version below, or on your favorite podcast app (like iTunes or Stitcher).

EdSurge: There’s a saying that goes something like: “Time is what we want most but what we also use worst.” In this book you share some findings that are specific to teaching and learning. Was the education audience a group of readers you had in mind from the beginning?

Pink: It always is because teachers and in particular educators in general are strong, very avid readers. And if you think about all the industries and domains in American life, educators, I think, are really keenly interested in ideas. It’s not a book for educators only but I think there are elements in there that are very germane to educators.

One of the things I discovered is that there is a hidden pattern to our days, and we’re better off putting certain kind of work in certain kinds of times of the day. That is, all times of the day are not created equal. And if we understand this underlying pattern, we can begin to reorganize our days so that they are more in sync with when science says we’re able to do the best at certain kinds of work. And there are huge numbers of timing effects on education.

How is there a mismatch between what science knows and what education does?

There’s a really interesting study of the Los Angeles Unified School District, which looked at grades and also performance on standardized tests in math for elementary school students. And what it found was that students who had math in the morning had higher grades and better scores than students who had math in the afternoon.

Now that’s pretty amazing because when we think about scheduling, we think of it as purely an administrative task. We don’t think about it as a pedagogical task. We focus a lot, understandably, on what’s the curriculum we’re going to use? We focus a lot on who’s going to be teaching, and are we giving that teacher the proper professional development?

Teachers and schools are all very focused on what we do. But we give short shrift to “when.” When are we doing all of these things?

But just the random assignment of kids in an afternoon math class, versus a morning math class, is going to affect how much math that kid learns. And that could have a few degrees of tilt in the trajectory of that kid’s education life going forward.

There’s another study from Denmark, where students take standardized tests on computers. But there are more students than there are computers, so everybody can’t take the test at the same time. So kids are randomly organized—some take the test in the morning, some take it in the afternoon. Again, elementary school students who took the test in the afternoon did worse than those who took the test in the morning.

The difference between taking the test in the afternoon versus taking the test in the morning was akin to having missed two to three weeks of school that year. So timing wasn’t everything, as we like to say, but it was a big thing.

So perhaps there is some logic behind those dreaded 8:00 AM finals in college...

It’s interesting you say that because it’s actually a really bad idea for college students! Some of this goes to our chronotype, which is our propensity to either wake up early or wake up late, to stay up late or to go to sleep early. You sometimes hear it talked about in terms of “larks” and “owls.” Some people are larks. They rise early, feel energetic in the morning and then fade out by evening.

But people between the ages of about 14 and 24 are very “owly.” That’s a period where, because of puberty, our bodies begin changing and that shifts our wakefulness forward a couple of hours. So people go to sleep later in the evening and wake up later in the morning.

This is one reason why for teenagers and college students, school typically starts way too early. In fact, the American Academy of Pediatrics in 2014 issued a policy statement that said, please do not start school for teenagers before 8:30 in the morning. Unfortunately today, the average school start time to teenagers is 8:03 AM, so most schools are operating directly in contravention of the recommendation of the nation’s pediatricians.

The Center for Disease Control has written about how it has an effect on everything from car crashes to obesity to depression. Big reductions in dropout rates. Improvements to standardized test scores. Even things like reduced car crashes among teenagers. And so, this is another case where timing isn't everything, but it’s a big thing. It’s absolutely nuts that we start school so early for teenagers.

Let’s talk recess. What’s your finding around taking a break in the school day?

In schools, and basically every realm in life, we have dramatically undersold the importance of breaks. I was really blown away by some of this research. I am old enough to remember 15 years ago when people in a business setting would brag about pulling all nighters and how little sleep they got, and we thought they were heroes. Then the science of sleep emerged and we realized those people aren’t heroes—they’re fools.

Breaks have a huge effect on our performance, and we should be taking regular systematic breaks no matter what age we are. The big picture is that the science of breaks is telling us that we need to think of breaks not as a concession to weakness. We need to think of breaks not as a deviation from performance, but as part of performance itself.

The science is telling us very, very clearly: Breaks are essential to our productivity, to our creativity, and to our overall well being. And they have to be a more intentional part of our lives and recesses are how students and schools take breaks. One thing we shouldn’t forget is that teachers need breaks too and I don’t think teachers get nearly the number of breaks that they need.

Is there an ideal length for a break?

You know, I don’t think there is. But something is better than nothing. We know that social breaks are better than solo breaks, even for introverts like me. Breaks where people are moving are more restorative than breaks where people are sedentary.

There’s some interesting research showing that breaks that are outside and that involve nature are more restorative than breaks that are indoors. Even to the point where taking a break where you can look outside and see a tree is better than taking a break in a room where you can't see a tree.

We know that fully detached breaks are more restorative than semi-detached breaks. So answering your email on your phone while you’re walking around outside does not count as a break. Breaks should be fully detached. But they needn’t be super long. We’re not talking like half hour breaks necessarily or hour breaks. For a lot of people, 10 minutes might be enough.

Many classrooms can look chaotic, with groups and subgroups of students doing different activities at different times. Now, there’s a part of your book that explores the value of synchronization and synchronized activities...

There’s something about when we synchronize with other people that makes us feel good. I think the really cool thing from an education perspective is there’s also research showing that synchronizing with others makes us do good.

We need to think of breaks not as a deviation from performance, but as part of performance itself.

Take two groups of kids and they each play games. One group plays a synchronized game. One group plays a non-synchronized game. The group that plays the synchronized game plays kind of a clap and tap activity where they’re all clapping and tapping at the same time. And the other group plays a fun game that isn't synchronized. Afterwards, the students who played the synchronized game were much more likely to say, “I want to play with a kid I haven’t met yet.” They’re more likely to help the teacher, [and demonstrate] all these behaviors that social psychologists call “pro-social.”

You even see this in something like swing sets. One group swings in time with each other, the other group swings asynchronously. The group that swings in sync is again, more likely to engage in the so-called pro-social behaviors, open to outsiders, helping the teachers, being kinder. It’s really kind of incredible.

It really blew my mind because I had no idea about how powerful synchronization was, and I think it offers educators a very powerful tool that they can use to lift up kid’s lives. I don’t understand what it is, but there is something about synchronization that is meaningful to us, that lifts our spirits, that makes us act better, that is fundamentally human.

Technology is supposed to free up things to give us more time but somehow we as a society can feel busier than ever. How does this “always-on” digital age force us to reconsider our best uses of time?

I think that it goes, in part, to how we configure our days. The science of timing tells us that as we go through the day, we have a peak period, a trough period, and a recovery period. And if you are spending your peak period—the period where the science tells us you should be doing your heads down focused analytic work—on email, that’s a waste. So, what we should be doing is putting that kind of administrative stuff into our trough period.

We should be single-tasking instead of multitasking, and the constant specter of our phone sitting there on our desk, buzzing and beeping, encourages us to multitask, takes us down a path where our attention is diverted and it steers us into doing something that we’re terrible at.

What would your ideal school day look like?

It depends on the age of the kid. If we’re talking about teenagers, what I would do is I would start the school day probably around 9:30. I would offer many more breaks than we have. I think those two interventions for teenagers would be huge.

With elementary, maybe some middle-school students, I would give them more recesses, not fewer. But the other thing that I think is pretty clear from the evidence is that we should be doing analytic kinds of work, like math, reading and writing, in the morning, and other kinds of classes, like music and art and maybe even PE, in the afternoon.

I would encourage young elementary schools to really think about having a choir. Many schools do. But I think it’s actually more powerful tool than most of us recognize. But again, I find that kids in school are so, so, so, so tightly scheduled there’s no give in any case, because we think of breaks as a deviation from the school. We think of breaks as like a snow day where they’re not learning anything—when in fact, breaks are a part of their learning.

What are some of the high level takeaways that you hope that the teachers and education policy makers take away from your book?

Teachers and schools are all very focused on what we do. What are we doing to do? What are kids going to learn? How are they going to learn it? Who are they going to learn it with? What’s the right mix of teacher and classmates? Why are we doing this?

But we give short shrift to “when.” When are we doing all of these things?

The science is telling us is that these “when” questions have a material effect on people’s performance. If you look at the broader population, time of day explains about 20 percent of the variance in human performance on cognitive tasks. So timing isn’t everything—but it’s a big thing and we need to start taking these questions of “when” much more seriously.

‘When’ Does Learning Happen Best? Dan Pink on the Science Behind Timing and Education published first on http://ift.tt/2x05DG9

[tortuga-aak]

We talked to the head of research at RBC Capital Markets about the storm headed for Wall Street

Screenshot via CNBC

Investment-research firms are scrambling to comply with new European regulations known as MiFID II.

We sat down with the head of a quickly rising Wall Street research firm to discuss what's hot in markets today and how RBC Capital Markets is preparing for the new rules.

When Marc Harris joined RBC Capital Markets' research team in 2004, the firm was a small player on Wall Street, with only a few of its analysts being recognized as stars.

This year, with Harris in charge of US research for RBC, his team cracked the top 10 of Institutional Investor magazine's annual analyst rankings for the third year in a row. Sixteen of its analysts made the list, with the firm in the top five across 13 sectors.

Business Insider recently caught up with Harris at RBC's Wall Street headquarters to discuss how he has built the research team, the sweeping changes about to affect equity research around the world, and how he views today's markets.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Graham Rapier: How did you manage to grow RBC's research division into what it is today?

Marc Harris: Over the course of the past decade, we've transitioned from a boutique, middle-market-oriented product that had a lot of fans — a lot of good, individual analysts, into a true top-10 platform. The way we did that was not by going out as a mercenary and saying we're going to be the highest bidder in the market for the No. 1-, 2-, 3-ranked analysts and just basically add them year after year.

More than half our analysts in the top-ranked categories are organically grown people, people who we brought up inside the organization. That was intentional. There are also sectors where we need to be there yesterday, so sometimes I have to make a choice.

Rapier: Can you give an example?

Harris: One is biotechnology. It's an incredibly important area, and we have a major franchise there. We had someone I had grown from an associate into a senior analyst [Mike Yee]. He had gone, over the course of a six-year period, from being an unranked analyst to literally being the No. 1 guy in the space. He was at the firm for over a dozen years, but he recently left. He ended up getting bid away and went over to another firm — a loss for us.

While I would love to start that over again from scratch, it's too important a space with too much going on. We have three dedicated analysts in this space. We can't be there without a substantive, known quantity, so I went out and hired people to backfill there.

There are other spots where I'm willing to do the three- or four-year view of taking one of our great up-and-coming associates, or an analyst who's covering part of a sector and promote them into a lead role. A good example of that is media, where I took Steve Cahill — who was an associate on the aerospace and defense team — and when our media analyst ended up leaving, I said this is a space where I know I have A-plus talent with the time to develop that over a few years, so we made that investment and put him in there.

In his first full year this year, he's already broken into the top 10 of II, and my bet is he will continue to go higher from there. We do much more of the latter than the former because we've tried to build this thoughtfully, gradually, and sustainably.

I won't name specific competitors, but I could show you companies where every third year they go through a massive hiring streak, pay peak of market for all of their talent on one- or two-year contracts, then drop like a stone, and they have to start all over again. I knew when we were building this that the only way to make it sustainable was to build from the bottom, make a culture where people want to be here and not just for the salary.

Rapier: Are there any other sectors you're expanding into now?

Harris: There's no industry that's not going to be affected by big data, and all the derivatives of that.

There's no industry that's not going to be affected by big data, and all the derivatives of that.

Frankly, if you were looking for something that ties all this together, believe it or not, the backdrop of all of this — one of the defining factors of success or failure — is going to be the ability of every business we analyze, and in our own business, to take big data in all of its various forms and create true information out of it. That's literally everyone.

For consumer companies, it's how do we micro-target consumers and which companies are well prepared to do that. If you're talking about healthcare IT, it's going to be understanding the massive amount of information coming out of the healthcare industry, analyzing it person by person, doing population health analysis, and things like that.

For biotechnology, it's going to be, "Can we use artificial intelligence to start to create jobs?" Google recently launched an effort to basically run through protein folding and use big data to analyze the conclusions out of that, and in essence make themselves into a biotechnology company. That means new competition for biotechnology that they never expected.

This is like the merger of every industry into a tech-led, big-data industry. The way I think about our investments, where we need to be, where the opportunity is, a lot of it comes from thinking about where technology and the acceleration of that technology going to a variety of industries.

Rapier: Let's talk about the new MiFID [markets in financial instruments directive] regulations. How will those affect RBC's business?

Harris: The sustainability I mentioned earlier will be incredibly important as we go into this new and uncharted environment of content unbundled from the execution at varying degrees. When you take a product that's never been priced in the market before, and you all of a sudden decide to start pricing it, the only way to be in there is to know you have top-tier talent to start with, and then work backward.

When you take a product that's never been priced in the market before, and you all of a sudden decide to start pricing it, the only way to be in there is to know you have top-tier talent to start with.

The largest asset managers will most likely make the choice to start paying in cash [for research] and will basically try to force the sell-side to accept the payment in cash. What that means is that we will all have to figure out a structure that works.

Everybody is going to reorganize their research departments under something that is a registered investment adviser structure. In essence, it means analysts will be dually registered doing half what they have been doing, and the other half doing the advisership thing.

It's a major change, with substantial reorganization to be done for any firm that wants to accept these cash payments. It's really just a question of will enough asset managers start paying in cash, forcing everybody to make the choice.

A lot of our competitors have already made the decision to reorganize as an RIA, and almost everybody is considering it right now. [Editor's note: So far, only Bank of America Merrill Lynch has publicly applied to register as such.] It's the hot topic of discussion in every major sell-side investment bank right now.

Rapier: You sound optimistic.

Harris: I am.

There are a couple of things that are clear. One is that mediocrity in research simply will not have any value. You cannot just be a sort of down in the middle, 15- to 20-ranked firm, producing OK research with OK analysts doing OK work. There was a long period of time where that kind of firm, with enough other peripheral business around them, could survive. Today, that simply will not get paid for in any geography, period. If you're one of those firms, you've got a problem.

There may be consolidation in the research industry, but if you've got the scale and size, with the right people providing that content, you end up in a pretty good position. You'll have to ride through the volatility of a storm, but if you can, you'll end up in a pretty good spot that serves a lot of different consumers.

There are two things driving this. This new set of regulations have sparked this fire, but the reason it's spread as rapidly as it has is pretty simple: performance. Quite frankly, performance is also what's going to solve it at the tail end. If active managers are able to outperform passive alternatives, then we won't be having a discussion about the death of sell-side research. The reason this is topic du jour is, for several years, active managers have not been able to outperform passive alternatives.

The reason this is topic du jour is, for several years, active managers have not been able to outperform passive alternatives.

With the added pressure of regulation, what are you going to do? You're going to cut costs.

Rapier: Where are we in the business cycle? Is there still room for the bull market to run?

Harris: Anybody who thinks that volatility in equity markets is dead has not lived long enough. Volatility will return. Nobody can ever define exactly when it's going to come back, but it will. Whether that's going to be caused by some external event — a war, another type of black swan that causes panic — really hard to say. People have been focused lately on the Black Monday crash, and there have been lots of musings about what caused it.

The reality is, nobody can define why the Dow dropped 22% that day. In all the books that have been written, with all the historical analyses, there's nobody who can look at that and say, "The reason why that happened was 'blank.'" It's always a group of factors coming together.

I do think volatility will be there, but I also think that those crashes are always good refresh opportunities for the market and particular companies. We need those. It's healthy for the market to have those resets. If we don't have any fear in the market, obviously we've got a problem, especially in equities, which are driven by fear or the lack thereof.

One of the things that could begin to hit the reset on that is when we start to enter a more full-blown Fed cycle. That will begin to sort of pull this back. When people don't have alternatives for returns, equity markets will tend to get a little bit overinflated perhaps. That's more of a reset to the norm than something where you look and say the earnings today can't justify the current levels.

The reality is, earnings today are in many ways justifying where we are in this process. It's a healthy economy. It's a healthy market. Don't discount the fact that we will get some form of tax reform through. It may not be exactly what's on paper right now, but any incremental amount — I won't opine on whether it will actually help the true economy — but I do know that when earnings go up, companies are considered to be more valuable and more flows down to the bottom line.

There are more positive things putting the wind at our backs still right now than there are negatives.

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