#i now have a little magnetic badge with my name and title

[krysalla]

i have unfortunately become important at work

[lesbenson]

liv brain, eo, and season 25. titled “fade in 2 u” in my drafts. enjoy if you want to!

It’s with tears in her eyes and his necklace between her fingers that Olivia says this last goodbye. Private, silent, prayer. A promise to try, to stay, with no mention of when he’ll come back around to her. Blinds drawn and door locked, it feels a little like she’s pressing on a bruise. It’s almost enough to distract from the soreness in her hip, until she moves or breathes or thinks about the look on Elliot’s face when he said he thought he lost her. She felt like she was lying to him, saying she couldn’t imagine what it brought up. But he can still surprise her, stalking like a fawn and murmuring about this precious life.

She hates them both, most days. And then she doesn’t know where to put that hate when he’s in her space, calling her sweet names and speaking soft over gifts in little boxes. Trading her for a gift box just to take the pressure off, holding the ornament close to his chest like it’s worth the same as this compass.


“I’ll treasure it.”

He leaves the little wooden E on the edge of her desk. Like her own small treasure, she sweeps it quickly into the top drawer.

Not that it matters, now, but Olivia had no intention of falling in love with Elliot when they were partners. She had no intention of forgiving him if he ever came back, and she cannot begin to voice it, but still, somewhere small and warm and quiet she knows she forgave him a long time ago. As much as she could, anyway. It’s patience, or empathy, or loyalty, if anyone cared to ask. Really, she just never stopped caring for him. She never could. For the years Elliot was gone, she could pretend not to understand him, his betrayal, but even that denial was self-indulgent. Olivia understands why he ran, what scares her still is that he could do it again.

She always thought his dedication was genuine, even in the moments his anger seemed to erupt far beyond him. His family was charming, but distant. Unfamiliar, so unenviable. She didn’t know that a decade later she would be fucking wrecked not to be having his kids. Another decade and she would have to face his youngest son, with eyes even bigger and darker than her own, another strange and mocking mirror of her grief. She sometimes thinks of it as her slight payback for Noah having Elliot’s same crystal eyes; the first thing she noticed about Elliot when they met and her second favorite feature.

The real favorite is his smile, his mouth, the way he grins when he’s trying to be charming. In their first month as partners she made a joke about it, and he looked so happy to be seen through. Like nobody had observed him so closely in a while. He gave her a different smile, and for years she found herself trying to spark it again. Elliot had flashed his baby blues at her then, too. They still make her melt, and he knows, and it is mortifying.

They looked so bright and soft and green, holding back tears in her office. He was still the one leaving.

Olivia had bit her tongue. Don’t go? Don’t go. You would never go if I asked you to stay. You don’t actually want to leave me. You don’t actually want to leave. You don’t actually want me.

Elliot tells her to find happiness, to let his compass lead her, as he is halfway out the door again. She thinks of little badges and magnets being pulled apart. The last time he sent her chasing happiness so he could slip away. Mostly, she wonders when he will see the dilemma.

He called her partner on his way out, and there was that smile again. Jackass.

Elliot’s necklace is warm by the time it slides against her chest, the heat of her hand boring into it. She pulls her thick hair out from under the chain and swallows hard at the intrusion of a memory - his hands so gentle as he had untangled her hair, the big plastic clip knocking against a wall she tried to lean on in an urgent care waiting room. The blood was minimal and the nurses were moving fast, but every time there was a moment of stillness Elliot had found a way to rest a hand on her leg, squeeze her shoulder. If she thinks too long about him cooing in her ear and brushing the hair out of her face, she might split her side open entirely.

——

Her ache for him works in a strange sort of reverse this time. For the first couple of weeks without him, she’s mostly numb — sad in the way she’s learned to live with, a little sensitive in her suspension between longing and remembering. Elliot is gone again. Soon she will have worked alone longer than they were partners, ten years since sergeant. Ten years in her office, reshaping herself inside those walls. She always wanted to be unrecognizable to Elliot if she saw him again. He never acted like she was, even when Olivia felt like she deserved to be a stranger to him.

When a full month goes by with no news, she finds herself furiously wiping tears in the produce aisle. She nicks her leg shaving and swears at a volume she doesn’t even recognize. She feels unsteady. Untethered. Four more weeks and she puts a photo of them on her desk, in a little collage mat that’s mostly occupied by Noah, and she starts using a hand soap in her bathroom that she thinks smells a little like his cologne. Nothing is quite enough.

There are moments of rest, somewhere in August. When Noah goes back to school she can really fall back into her rhythms, letting cases blend the days together while the weather changes.

She wore the compass all summer, gold and shimmering against the soft tan of her chest, and she wonders still what made him pick the little pink stones. If he knew they would start to look exactly like the blush that used to run across his high cheekbones, the rough inside of his hands. She wonders if he’s close enough to see the same trees changing, far enough to feel the cold already.

Olivia secretly looks forward to the winter, the sharp feeling of the air and the way the sky matches the concrete, sun shining through clouds and reflecting off of big glass buildings. The streets are still busy, but the people move faster. The holidays are always strange for her, suppressing guilt she feels for every dinner that didn’t happen. Seated protective and close to Noah at the McCann’s, she is hit with a pang of sadness for the celebrations she won’t have with Simon, with her mother. Grateful for her baby, for her safety, for her job, for her sanity. No new year’s resolutions, just a tiny feeling blooming in her chest. Something like anticipation.

—-

When Maddie Flynn disappears, Olivia knows she has lost a piece of herself within the case before their first day of searching is over. She is exercising all of her strength trying to stay upright, the plummeting in her stomach never ever reaching an end.

She tells people it was a bad instinct, that she should have known better. What scares her more, so much more, is to think that she did. Too distracted, too tired, too disoriented. Traffic was thick and her eyes had not adjusted to the sunlight and Noah was asking her so many questions and she just could not focus on what she saw. She will turn it over in her mind for weeks after it starts, what it means for her, after all of these years, not to act on it. How little the rest of it matters now that she has let a girl go, how nothing saved changes what’s been lost. She thinks of stupid Elliot, breaking things just to tell her they can be fixed, breaking the moment just to make her smile. She hears Fin tell Velasco to shut his mouth and do what he’s told, “If this girl doesn’t come home, Liv is never gonna forgive herself.” She thinks he doesn’t know how right he is.

She makes it through her whole apartment, her and Noah’s goodnights, and the majority of her nighttime routine before she just lets it go. Hot tears fill her eyes and before she can get her breathing under control, she collapses on the edge of her bed, quietly inhaling through her cries. Blonde, 5’5, 15 years old. Energy drink van, front seat, Lincoln tunnel. Clutching her stomach, she chokes on a few hard inhales as she tries to steady, her head pounding. Maddie’s name floats around the room on a soft voice, something like a prayer that feels more like a plea.

The exhaustion is bottomless, lately. She misses being angry all the time. On edge. Passionate. She goes for long stretches not feeling like someone who cares about anything by the time she gets in bed, or she feels this, this searing pain. Olivia thinks of Muncy, of Kat, when she curls under her sheets and wonders what will finally make it all feel like enough. When she joined SVU she still felt like she had something to prove, something to fix. She can’t even access that sense of hope sometimes, often wonders if that’s what the feeling really was.

Olivia lies silent, eyes open in her dark room. The vibrating chirps of her phone startle her, but not nearly as much as the name flashing across the screen.

Elliot Stabler and the same picture as her desk, the only one they have taken since he’s been back (his sweet mother, with both of them halfway out the door, had just told them she wanted one and sentiment caught her by surprise. They both told Bernie it was okay, really, Olivia trying to hide and Elliot giving her an out. She shushed them both and they laughed quietly to each other, their faces inches apart when he bowed his head in defeat. He threw a big arm over her shoulders and squeezed, and her annoyance with him had evaporated with the briefest thought of teenagers on prom night).

She watches his name inch across her screen, flicking off the sound instead of ending the call. She can’t pick up, not with her breathing so ragged. Her hands are shaking, still, and this isn’t how she wants it to be for them. She isn’t prepared to talk to him or lie to him or for whatever he might be asking of her in the middle of the night. Then it hits her, and she feels like an asshole for the delay, but he could be in danger. He almost always is, in a way. She would have to run to him, or else just tell him she’s a lousy hero.

Thinking first that wallowing won’t save Maddie Flynn, then that Elliot would probably call his team in a real crisis, she lets the phone drop from her hands to her lap. The vibrating stops a few seconds later, the eventual buzz of a voicemail breaking the silence she was holding for another call.

Olivia rubs both hands over her face, sighing before hitting play on his message.

Hey Liv. It’s me. I just got back.

An old case of ours.

Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.

Call me.

The comfort she finds in the smallest of Elliot’s mannerisms still surprises her, but she finds her heart fluttering just hearing his voice, the deep breaths while he chooses his words. She misses him so much of the time she almost can’t keep track of everything she misses about him, until moments like this. Moments when he seems so real and so close it feels like no time has passed, or like it didn’t pass with the two of them sliced in half. Olivia does resent him for it, what he can get away with just by still being this man that she loves, that she trusts. Her partner, exactly how she remembers him.

Part of her, the larger part, wants to call him back. Ask about his case, pick a fight, tell him to come over. She wants to know how he’s been, needs to know if he has any bruises, wants to hear about all of the things that make him think of her.

She wants him to help her find her missing girl. She can’t call him, she realizes, if not for that. She could, maybe, throw him into the case and he might tread lightly enough for it to work, but with the way her head is pounding right now she just can’t imagine keeping it together in front of him. And she wants to, wants to be strong and sturdy and ready, when she sees him again.

She doesn’t get much sleep, but she plays his voicemail a few more times.

—-

She actually doesn’t sleep most nights, for weeks on end. On a foggy morning run she finds herself chasing a green van, hearing Maddie’s name ripping from her throat. The guy calls her crazy, and she thinks about chasing him onto the highway. She almost grabs the arm of a girl walking out of Noah’s dance studio, long blonde hair and a baby blue hoodie making her jump before she catches herself.

Olivia has never been able to name the feeling of the city when she knows a child is missing inside it. It’s not just haunting, or vigilance, it’s a distortion. She sees Maddie everywhere because she is looking for her everywhere. She is so afraid of making the same mistake that she is suspicious of everyone. She’s distracted by the ever-changing scenes of the city, convinced everything will become the one thing she missed. Fin tells her, or she tells him what she knows he sees, that she has not been herself since Maddie was taken.

She can’t be, is the thing. She can feel this phantom ache, Maddie’s grip on her from God knows how far. Like she’s been ripped apart, a piece of her still tethered as it is taken away. The guilt is eating her alive, everyday, and when Eileen Flynn calls her from the hospital Olivia can barely breathe. She has to try to explain it, in the EMDR suite, what the sight of Peter’s belt in Maddie’s closet still does to her.

Olivia keeps trying to get around it, anything that she has to preface with “there was a case- a guy, ten years ago,” she would rather just not get into. She remembers the instinct to drop her necklace in the trunk of a car, and she already misses the feel of Maddie’s plastic beads on her wrist.

She never pictured a treatment she’d be more nauseous during than her first few weeks with Lindstrom, but when she walks out into the night after these sessions she still feels a little off balance. She tries to just trust it will help, which is harder than trusting herself to go — a small but welcome change.

—-

Curry tells her, first thing in the morning. They took Stabler’s badge. He hit a kid, or he hurt a kid, or they think he tried to kill a guy. Suspended, second time in four years. It’s not looking good for him, when and if he gets back to his desk.

Olivia knows him, knows Elliot is either tearing his place apart from agitation or physically beating himself up for whatever it is he did to hurt that boy. She simply tells Curry to keep her updated, if she can, and she manages not to ask if they need someone to vouch for him at his next hearing. She types and deletes the same message maybe ten times throughout the day. “Dinner soon? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

She feels worse for not calling him back now than she had to begin with. Ignoring him is as much a retaliation as it is another wound to salt, always making herself that much more miserable to teach Elliot a lesson about leaving. It’s sick, is what it is, and now a teenage boy is in the hospital and a teenage girl is still missing. She calls him that night while staking out Noah’s room from the kitchen, trying to ground herself with his presence without waking him. The call goes straight to voicemail and she hangs up.

She dreams of him in the passenger seat, younger and stubbly and deathly serious. She’s flying down the road, she doesn’t know which one, or what hour it is. Everything is orange and bright and hot and he’s giving her directions, clear and sure. She’s closing in on a van, neon green with skulls and Elliot has a big hand flat on the dash, loudly egging her on. The sun isn’t moving up or down the horizon but closer to them, the road seemingly widening so Olivia can circle the van, tire-to-tire with the front wheels. Still speeding in perfect tandem, both drivers face each other. Maddie grips the wheel, her hair whipping around her face, her eyes wild. Olivia screams her name, and Maddie looks back at the road. She feels cold, so cold, and the sky is getting redder as the metal of her side mirror screeches against the van’s. She tries again, the wail echoing, and when Maddie turns back to her there are bloody tear streaks on her cheeks. Olivia tries to scream, cut short by Elliot grabbing the wheel, jerking it hard and sending them spinning in front of the van. She wakes up panting, the sun barely starting to split between her blinds.

She at least waits for Noah to finish his breakfast before calling Elliot again, knowing if he is adhering to his suspension he should answer the landline. When that goes to voicemail she takes it a little harder.

“Call me back. I’m here.” It’s the kind of thing they used to say to each other constantly, and she wonders if the meaning ever changes. I need to be with you through this to know how you are. I know how you’re feeling more than anyone else in the world. You’re the only one that feels it this much too. I’m here. We don’t have to talk. I don’t want to talk. I want to hear you. See you. They also both used to be able to take a missed call on the chin, but it’s become a bit of a sore spot for her.

—-

Another dream, a waking one. Maddie’s voice, ringing in a dark, mildewy cabin. Her small frame in the center of the room, all of her wrapped in Olivia’s arms. Her hair is wrong and she looks sickly, terrified, but those are the eyes that glanced at Olivia from the front of an energy drink van. She’s certain of it, and Maddie holds onto her like she is too.

—-

It’s a chance thing, or more bad timing, when Olivia halfway hears from him again. She’s in the shower when he calls, and so she opens her phone to another voicemail. Laying out clothes and badges for commencement, she plays it on speaker.

His voice stops her in her tracks. It’s raspy, like he’s been up, or yelling, or crying. His words, too, make her freeze.

“Hey, hon. I uh- listen, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. It’s- um- it’s not exactly something I can- you know. I don’t wanna do it over the phone. I’m around though if you think, if you ever want to- to talk. I wanna see you. Call me if you can, Liv. bye.”

Her eyes dart unfocused over her dresser, her mind racing for a second before it slows again, stuck on hon, like the bastard was really going to call her his honey before he caught himself. Except it didn’t sound like he stopped himself. It sounded like he meant to say it, and maybe then he panicked, but something in his subconscious has resorted to pet names for her. The thought alone makes her weak.

Her finger hovers over his number, playing the voicemail back instead of returning the call. She watches her own face in the mirror, dark features softened and then tensed as he rambles. Olivia knows she’s going to have to call him again, that she might even keep calling until he answers. She pulls her damp hair around her neck and starts a loose braid.

—-

In the earliest days of sun and spring, Maddie turns sixteen. The celebration is sweet, if not a little too bright, a performance of levity for her, for her parents, for Olivia. Still, when she lays the golden chain over Eileen’s shoulders, she feels like she has given over something with an honest kind of power in it. She half expects to literally walk in the opposite direction of her car when she leaves the party. She finds herself driving back to the precinct.

—-

Olivia tries not to let on, how her heart skips a beat when she hears him pick up the phone. Elliot has his fun, taking his first opening for a joke before falling quiet at the tender change in her voice. She scrapes a nail over her thigh, feels the rough weave of denim as she speaks. She has so much she wants to say, but it only comes out in pieces and Elliot, somehow (she knows how), doesn’t ever need her to fill in the gaps.

“I knew you’d understand.”

“Oh, I understand. You lost the necklace and now you’re buying time.”

It makes her laugh, and she hopes she isn’t blushing but Christ, she misses him and her cheeks hurt. This time last year he was tossing a paper bag on her desk with that same necklace in it. Not long before that he had held her in his arms three different times on the same case. When he had hugged her goodbye she almost kissed him.

She told Carisi’s cousin the “L” stood for love. That she hadn’t found it yet. Maddie went missing that same day, and now Olivia’s compass hangs around Eileen’s neck. She thinks of healing properties, placebos, and time. She thinks of being guided to Maddie, of the lost girls she has pulled from the darkness this year, of becoming the needle in the pendant, moving with the heart of the wearer. She thinks she is telling him the truth, that it helped, or that she’s getting there.

She really does want the necklace back, eventually. She already misses the weight of it, habitually running a thumb over her (now bare) collarbone a few times in the past hour. Right now, though, Olivia thinks Eileen needs it more. Thinks she can find it by herself, or already has. Happiness, love, truth, steady ground. Just for a second, maybe, until things change again.

Right now, though. She’s got him on the phone and Elliot is laughing too, under his breath, at his own quip or her reaction and she knows exactly what his face looks like right now, does not try to stop herself from picturing his smile.

“I pawned it.” That earns her a nice scratchy laugh.

—-

Maddie Flynn doesn’t go to sleepaway camp that summer, but she learns how to drive and is coming back around to the idea of college outside the city. She sticks to EMDR treatment, but she changes doctors twice before she gets settled. She’s growing her hair long and piercing her ears behind her parents’ back. She doesn’t wake up screaming as much anymore, and she finishes all her meals.

Olivia learns all of this over coffee with Eileen, gently holding her arm as she promises over and over again that it is getting better, that Maddie will be at peace again one day, that all they can do right now is love her patiently. Eileen keeps smiling like she doesn’t quite believe her, but Olivia sees so much less panic in her eyes now.

Right before they part ways, Eileen gives her a crushing hug, launching into her like a kid.

“Keep looking,” she murmurs, quickly clasping the compass necklace behind Olivia’s head, “Look for love everywhere. Dig to the center of the earth, if you can.”

Olivia smiles at her, eyes crinkling under the late July sun. “I will.”

—-

One text, while she’s waiting for her car to cool off.

What are you doing tomorrow night?

His response is immediate, two messages in a row.

Hope I’m cooking you dinner.

Gonna try to earn my necklace cash back.

—-

It’s enough time to primp and preen and work herself up so much she won’t want to go at all. It’s short enough notice that they can both only panic so much. It’s a late dinner, her request, his pleasure, and while she gets ready very fast, she still needed an extra built-in hour to sit on her couch and breathe. Early that morning, Olivia had taken Noah upstate. She tapped her foot through lunch with the McCanns and lied every time they asked about her.

Olivia has wondered about this ridiculous idea of dressing up for Elliot, and where her brain knows he can’t be surprised by anything she does, she still wants him to be. Just a little bit. It’s been a long year. He has stared at her like a small dog when she was wearing t-shirts and suits that didn’t fit, pajamas, dresses meant for someone other than him. She wants to hold his gaze.

She had laid out a deep cherry red sweater and loose jeans. She stares at them now, standing by the foot of her bed with clenched fists at her hips.

It’s only dinner. It’s Elliot. They’re not very likely to leave his apartment.

Olivia turns back to her closet and grabs at a soft, plum-colored dress. She inspects the fabric for only a second before pulling the dress over her head, stretching it around her hips, her thighs. It’s fitted at her chest and falls loose and long over her legs. She cranes her neck and checks for lines, obvious straps or pieces of lace peeking through. She smooths her hands over the dress one more time, and finally settles on it with a slow exhale. She forces herself to do her fastest makeup, brushes and curls the thick strands of hair that fall around her cheekbones, her jawline. She doesn’t think very hard about jewelry, popping in wide gold hoops and recentering the singular necklace.

—-

She leaves ten minutes later than she should, and it relaxes her up until she starts closing in on his apartment. The traffic is reasonable, but she impatiently taps her wheel through it all the same.

Halfway up the stairs to his loft and Olivia remembers he gave her a key. He put it on her kitchen counter on his way out and didn’t say anything about it, just held her gaze for as long as she’d let him. The message was clear - it was there with or without a spare key - trust me, come home to me, be safe with me. And she wanted to, but she couldn’t, then.

Now, she stands right outside his door, lets her breathing even out for a moment, shifting her weight from heel to toe. When she knocks, it’s the quiet one they used to do at the precinct, and she thinks of skittish animals for a second. She’s about to lunge and press his buzzer when she hears clicking in his locks.

Elliot opens the door and just looks at her for a long time, his smile so soft, before he whispers a simple “Hi.”

She breathes out “Hey,” and neither of them move.

She looks him up and down and he lets her, and he looks good, looks like himself in a fading green t-shirt and slate gray sweatpants. She hopes he ate enough while he was under. He looks like he’s been sleeping, a lot, and she hopes that’s a good thing too. He waits for her move to push the door open a little more and she brushes against him on purpose when she walks into his apartment. She kicks her shoes off silently, unceremoniously as he locks the door behind them, and when she turns over her shoulder to peek at him again it doesn’t feel like he’s too close. It should, because she can feel her dress swishing and hitting him, but she lingers still. When Olivia faces him, he extends a hand to take her purse, nonreactive to the weight of it in his fingers. He places it on the bench in the hall, still staring at her. She lets him wrap a hand around her wrist and guide her towards his kitchen, his other hand resting on her waist in a way that makes her heart hammer.

She leans across his island, and Elliot slides her a glass of water that was already on the counter. He smiles shyly and pours himself a new one.

When he finally settles on the opposite side, he’s bent practically in half leaning towards her. He looks nervous, now.

“Wanted to see you when I got back but I- I needed to make sure my head was on straight. I was actually gonna bring you a coffee some-“

“Elliot.” She catches his eyes long enough for his shoulders to relax. He breathes in, slowly, and nods. And waits.

“It’s- I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “me too.” He flicks his chin up the slightest bit, “you’re wearing it.”

She almost laughs, biting back a grin as her hand flies up to touch it, feel it’s weight on her chest. “Everyday. You knew I would.”

His face softens, and instead of responding he just walks around the counter, hovering close to her.

“I mean you got it back.”

Olivia does laugh, then, “I mean, I couldn’t wait forever.”

Elliot makes a little sound at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s close enough again that she can look up and tell when he last shaved, can smell his soap and his breath and his sweat.

She takes a breath in, cutting off sharply when he reaches up to touch the pendant. A light brush of his fingertip, then the slightest pressure of his thumb over the face of the compass.

The back of Elliot’s hand is brushing, resting on Olivia’s chest and when he captures the necklace between the pads of his fingers she only wants to let him pull her in. He raises the pendant between them, the chain catching on the fine hairs at the back of her neck, and as she leans in he presses the side of the compass to his lips.

When he lowers it again, Olivia covers his hand with hers and flattens it over the compass at her neck. They hold each other there for what feels like forever. Elliot’s eyes are still that light shining blue, pupils massive and dark.

His lips are soft against hers when she tilts her head. She lets all of the air out of her lungs in the second he kisses her back, and she regains it with a gasp when his mouth moves against hers. Elliot’s hot palm stays on her chest, but now his other hand cups the back of her head, fingers tenderly threading in her hair and she would never let anyone hold her like this but Elliot’s hand is right over her thumping heart, and when she grabs his forearm he groans a little. He breaks away only to say her name, voice breaking, and Olivia strokes his cheeks, his jaw, patient and soft as ever.

He’s got thick fingers wrapped behind her neck, whispering Liv. Liv. Liv. His lips on hers, on her cheeks, her nose, her temple. She’s lost in it so completely, for a second she thinks she could cry at the warmth of him. Olivia grabs his arms again, one hand digging into his shoulder, and kisses Elliot until she knows they’re both dizzy.

His cheeks are a dark red now, and it still sounds impossible for him to get his breathing under control when he drops his hands to her hips.

“I fucking missed you so much, Liv, I-“ he’s kissing her again, teeth scraping over the side of her neck for just a second before he realizes, seemingly, that he can’t say any of it like this.

Elliot falls back a bit, but his nose against hers suddenly feels like the closest they have ever been. “I love you, you know I love you.”

She bites her lip, nodding vigorously, wordlessly. Olivia does know this, has almost always known this, has certainly heard him say it before. Here, though, she can take it, hold it close to her ribs and feel it settle.

She blinks away another rush of tears, smiling with her lips pressed tight together. “You’re just- you’re really gonna have to say it a lot, you know.” She wants so badly to laugh at all of this, but she still swallows hard at the look on Elliot’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean I want to. I-” he stops himself with a tiny shake of his head, just murmuring as he presses his cheek against hers, “I love you, Liv, I love you.”

—-

Elliot had pulled a huge pan of vegetables and an equally huge skillet of mac and cheese with bacon out of his oven about 30 seconds before Olivia had sweetly dragged him to bed by the strings on his pants, promising to inhale his carefully crafted meal later.

Hours later, she pulls on those pants and a big gray zip-up to sink into his couch and eat their reheated dinner, resting her legs on Elliot’s lap and thinking briefly about takeout and all-nighters.

“What are you smiling about?” He rests a hand on her leg, lightly stroking with his thumb.

“You already know.” Olivia raises one eyebrow at him, grin never fading.

“Yeah,” Elliot smiles wide, “yeah, I guess I do.”

—-

if you read all of this, thank you for reading.

[tonystarkbingo]

TSB Week 7 Roundup!

Badge Earners:

Katling betheflame summerpipedream

And now our fills for this week!  Click through to check them out and make sure to leave some love!

Title: Full Spread Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 - Photoshoot Ship: FrostIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Tony agreed to marry Jotun Prince Loki for the sake of Asgard’s alliance with Jotunheim. They’re home and learning what it means to be together, but the rest of the world wants to know what they’re like too. Pepper convinces Tony to agree to a photoshoot, officially presenting Tony Stark and his husband Loki to Earth.  Word Count: 13,238

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Title: Nose Kiss Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Nose Kiss Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Some after-battle nose rubs. Word Count: None [Art]

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Title: Crash Landing Collaborator: turtlesse Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Major Injuries Ship: FrostIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Loki should have known his day would get worse. It had started to get better, too, but no. That wasn’t his life. Word Count: 3026

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Title: N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R5 - May Parker Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art  Summary: Back to the basics for Aunt May!

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Title: Happiness is spelled (without modesty) Collaborator: HogwartsToAlexandria Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - No Modesty Ship: Pepperony Rating: Mature Major Tags: sexual content Summary: Now that Morgan is older and summer's rolled around, Pepper and Tony are able to find solace in every little moment they get. Word Count: 566

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Title: N/A Collaborator: Link: Tumblr Square Filled: T3 - Alien Planet Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: I love putting Tony and Stars together :

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Title: i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair - Chapter 2: ii. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Afghanistan Trip Ship: PepperStony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Soulmate AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Indian Tony Stark, Hindu Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Pepper Potts' Mother's A+ Parenting, Smut, Dirty Talk, Self-Esteem Issues, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Summary: Virginia Potts meets Tony Stark three years after she starts working in the accounting department of Stark Industries. She’s had the name of two soulmates written on her wrists since she was eleven years old. One says Anthony Edward Stark and the other says, Steven Grant Rogers. Virginia knows that Anthony Edward Stark is her boss, her top boss, the guy at the highest end of the totem pole, and she knows that Steven Grant Rogers was Captain America and he’s been dead since 1945. Word Count: 12,284

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Title: Welcome to Chaos Collaborator: trashcanakin Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Scott Lang/Ant-Man Ship: IronAnt Rating: Teen Major Tags: Dystopian AU, Canon Typical Violence Summary: A “game” called Chaos was created that forcefully sucks people into it, and in order to escape the game, you have to win… but as in all games; there are rules. Word Count: [Moodboard] N/A

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Title: Velvet Glove Collaborator: HogwartsToAlexandria Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Laughter Ship: Tony/Pepper/Nat Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Porn Without Plot Summary: Off-days are far in-between for two members of the Avengers and their CEO wife, so they take advantage of them. Of course they do. Word Count: 910

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Title: Tony Stark, Fairy Godbillionaire Collaborator: RoseRose Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - First Date Ship: Stuckony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony Stark receives an invitation to Steve and Bucky's wedding. He has absolutely no idea who they are. For their chutzpah, he decides to pay for everything for their wedding- and hop into the planning to make sure they get the best of the best.They end up falling in love. Word Count: 1020

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Title: [Moodboard] N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A5 - Adopting a Pet Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Tony: You said you wanted a pet.Bucky: Cat. I said I wanted a cat. Word Count: N/A

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Title: let the soft animal of your body love what it loves - Chapter 12: xii. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - damsels (and others) in distress Ship: Stony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Time Travel, Endgame Steve goes back in time to be with Post AOU Tony, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk, Past Domestic Violence, Post AOU AU, Breaking Up and Making Up, Marriage Counselling, Superfamily, Team Iron Man, but not Steve unfriendly, he's just a moron, a lot of fighting and arguments, Dubious Consent due to Identity Issues Summary: In 2023, Steve Rogers, after burning his husband's body, goes through the timelines to return each of the Infinity Stones. Word Count: 53,366

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Title: Mornings Like These Collaborator: BennyBatch Link: AO3 Square Filled: A5 - I love you 3000 Ship: FrostIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Fluff and Smut Summary: Tony Stark never thought he would be so lucky, but here he is--happy, and the man sleeping to his right is the one to thank for it. Word Count: 1437

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Title: Don't Feed The Experiments Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Iron Mouse Image Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Crack ahoy? Summary: When feeding the experiments, please ensure that you don't get blood in their food. Or give them heightened intelligence. Yes, Mr Stark, we're looking at you. Word Count: 300

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Title: Love is Comfortable Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: S3 - limping Ship: Pepper/Natasha Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard  Summary: As a woman, being beautiful is painful. So when they’re together they prefer to be cozy.

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Title: Swirlin’ On You Babe Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: T5 - Kink: Stripping Ship: IronWidow Rating: Mature Major Tags: sex worker, lap dance Summary: Tony is hanging out a strip club, and he sees one worker in particular that he'd like to take home. His night gets a hell of a lot better when she says yes. Word Count: 1241

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Title: Tiny Tony Cutie Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: fandom craft  Summary: Mini Tony Stark cross stitch cutie magnet

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Title: Shenanigans Collaborator: rebirthofaphoenix Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R5 - denial Ship: Rocket/Wade/Tony/Loki Rating: Teen Major Tags: moodboard, human Rocket, idiotic men who don’t realize they’re together, flying humans Summary: peacock - Tony, African Grey - Wade, screech owl - Rocket, crow - Loki

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Title: In My Dreams I Turn You On - Chapter One Collaborator: ceealaina Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony’s crushing hard on his new massage therapist, but doesn’t want to be a sleazy businessman. Bucky’s crushing hard on his latest client, but doesn’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable position. So they handle it like any sane adults - pretend it’s not happening and refuse to discuss it. At least they both have terrible friends to help them through it. Word Count: 4259

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Title: Surprise! It’s an Omega! Collaborator: alexisriversong Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Kink: Rushed Sex Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: A/B/O Summary: Setting right after the end of the Beauty and the Beast AU, basically, the same plot as the movie but with alpha/omega/beta and the Avengers team. Not really necessary to read the first fic, but in some places might not make sense without reading that first. Word Count: 1136

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Title: i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair Collaborator: Simi Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - IMAGE: Tony has a heart Ship: PepperStony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Soulmate AU Summary: Virginia Potts meets Tony Stark three years after she starts working in the accounting department of Stark Industries. She’s had the name of two soulmates written on her wrists since she was eleven years old. One says Anthony Edward Stark and the other says, Steven Grant Rogers. Virginia knows that Anthony Edward Stark is her boss, her top boss, the guy at the highest end of the totem pole, and she knows that Steven Grant Rogers was Captain America and he’s been dead since 1945. Word Count: 17,166

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Title: Flying My Way Collaborator: tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - AU: Star Wars Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: None Summary: Word Count: 1484

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Title: Hadid Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - AU: Dragon Riders Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mutual Pining Summary: An AU of Iron Man 1, now with added dragons. Word Count: 1472

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Title: YSMIR Collaborator: endrega23 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - Dark Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Light Angst Summary: YSMIR (do not attempt to recreate at home) First, take twenty to thirty tablespoons of challenge. Sprinkle it with a pinch of bet, and add some brotherly competition according to your taste and a slice of one-upmanship. Let it sit and stew, then, at the critical moment, add it to a nightmare-fueled, sleep-deprived inventing binge. Be sure to separate it from any moderating influence, or it won't produce the desired effect. Finally, pour it into a genius, and wait. Word Count: 3593

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Title: Tony Stark Has a Heart Collaborator: thud worm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - [Image] Tony has a heart Ship: N/A Rating: Gen Major Tags: PTSD, Flashbacks Summary: Tony isn’t a complete idiot- he knows that his truckload of issues didn’t begin with the wormhole, even though that was when the nightmares and other symptoms started. But this newest trigger managed to take him completely by surprise. Word Count: 1013

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Title: Work Six Times As Hard Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - freespace Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Attempted Sexual Assault, Threat of Rape/Non-Con, Racism, Non-Con Drug Use (as in a white girl drugs Tony’s drink and threatens to tell the cops Tony raped her if they try to say anything and Tony’s underage during this) Summary: Tony Stark was black, first and foremost. He was rich, second. As Maria told him, everyone could glance at him and see the color of his skin right away, but they couldn’t tell how much money he had so he needed to play it safe. It didn’t make a difference. Not in the end. Word Count: 3311

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Title: my body is not their bed - Chapter 1: i. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: Bucky/Tony/Steve/Natasha Rating: Explicit Major Tags: soulmates, Fem!Tony, implied/referenced child abuse, explicit sexual content, PTSD, genderswap, gender issues, torture, polyamory Summary: In 1995, the Engineer and the Winter Soldier escape HYDRA and end up, bleeding, on Peggy Carter's doorstep. This is their journey after. This is the story of their victory march. Word Count: 5988

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Title: N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - Diner / Restaurant Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: art  Summary: World-renowned restaurateur Tony Stark prides himself on employing only the best of the best. So when the pastry chef of his most famous New York restaurant, the Avengeur, quits unexpectedly, Tony is left scrambling to find a replacement. The most qualified applicant turns out to be James ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes, and he represents a drastic change from the privileged and elite staff Tony is used to hiring. Tony takes a chance on something new and the decision ends up affecting more than just Tony’s restaurant.

[haraways]

The Last Mission

Midoriya Hisashi/Midoriya Inko

Midoriya Inko/Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Making Out, Established Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Villain Inko, BAMF Midoriya Inko, Pregnancy, Villain Midoriya Hisashi, Origin Story, Plots, Slow Burn, AU technically, Gangs rebellious young adults, Young Lovers, Mid 20's, Office work, Angst, Lots of Angst, Fluff

Summary:

“We need to do this,” Inko stated. It was a fact; they did need to do this mission, it was for their own good.

“I don’t want to,” Hisashi replied quietly, “It’s not the clothes or the job and if it was just you and me I would do it in a heartbeat but it's not just you and me anymore.”

“I know,” Inko replied mournfully, “But this would be it. Once this is done, we would start over. It wouldn’t just be a fresh start it would be a good start and that’s all we need.”

“And each other.” Hisashi dropped Inkos hands and they leaned in to share a sweet kiss.

“Okay. We will do this, but only on one condition.” Hisashi said seriously.

“What is it?” Inko asked in mild suspicion.

“If you marry me.”

Inko smiled softly, “I think I can do that.”

They were young and stupid.

On top of the world.

Unstoppable in their petty crimes and rebellious vandalism.

They’d dropped out of their last year of high school and run deep into the heart of the city. Away from their parents, and expectations. They’d gone and joined up with other young, disenchanted, abused and forgotten people like themselves. They formed a gang of sorts. Moving into an abandoned office building. One of their friends was able to use his quirk to reconnect them to the grid, so electricity was abundant and with it, internet, T.V and everything they’d ever need.

They didn’t really have a focus on their crimes. They liked to have fun. They liked to terrorize corner stores at 3 am, running before any police or these “heroes” could interfere. These “heroes” made their little gang laugh, using their quirks for “good, truth and justice.” It was childish. These heroes even went so far as to call criminals of all types “villains”, it was done right dilutional. But it caught on, with the public and with criminals. It made all crime sound fare more serious then what it was. The Hero system was popularised in North America before making its way over to Japan. The idea sparked from early twentieth-century comic books. Only in the last few years did Japan establish the hero system, even going so far as to invest in specialized schools and degrees at universities.

It was ridiculous.

In time their gang grew older and more bored with the petty crimes. If they were going to be labelled “villains” then they were going to commit crimes befitting such a dramatic title.

Their little gang grew and soon became a well-oiled crime committing machine. And with it, Inko’s quirk grew. When she was little, she thought her quick was borderline useless; being able to pull a small object towards herself. But she soon realized if she trained, the speed the object returned to her would match the speed in which she throws it. Her quirk became dangerous. Not as obviously as Hisashi’s, with his fire breath, but she began to favour long metal needles; small and sharp, she hit her target every time.

She never killed anyone, that was a little too far for her liking. But she’d be damned if she’d let anyone past her.

As their goals changed so did the dynamic of the gang. There was a shifting of power leading to a hierarchy so to speak. Their leader USB, named for his quick, turned out to be ruthless in his prostate in his need to build an organization. Their main operation focused on the accusation of information and selling it off to whoever could afford it. They’d break into business’s, banks, government building, and private residences if asked; they were the best at what they did. It was Inko’s and Hisashi’s job to ensure that their operations were never interfered with. They were the force behind the hijacking of information, removing any obstacles in the way. A simple enough task that put them squarely under USB in their organization. They were not to be messed with.

By their mid-twenties, they've made a name for themselves in the villain underworld. They even had been granted Nom De Guerre’s by the Hero’s that would try and pursue them. Hisashi was dubbed Hot Head. He was anything but his namesake. Hisashi was calm and collected, always critically thinking and had a plan for everything. He was smart but despised being told what to do unless it was Inko giving him the orders. Him and USB butted-heads often enough that they were more like siblings then Leader and Subordinate. A lot of their disagreements stemmed from differences in how an operation should be executed. But when there was no mission, USB had a tendency to flirt shamelessly with Inko, much to Hisashi annoyance, more on Inko’s behalf then jealousy. Hisashi wasn’t a jealous type; Inko and he had been together for nearly eight years and neither planned on changing that. They’d even talked about marriage but that was an afterthought and when they first turned eighteen. They were happy as they were and didn’t need a document to tell them differently.  

Inko’s granted name was entirely uncreative, thought up by an equally uncreative, American inspired hero. He’d dubbed her Green, for her hair. Inko hated it; Hisashi thought it was cute. Of course, she’d be named for a physical feature rather than her quirk or other another aspect, like her charming personality. But there was nothing to be done about it.

It was an evening like any other, Hisashi and Inko were alone in their hideout, for once. And as young couples often do when they were along, they were thoroughly enjoying the company of the other.

Laying back on a worn couch, Inko’s hand travelled inside Hisashi’s shirt, running her fingers up and down his back and sides; enjoys the warmth that always radiated from him. Hisashi’s own hands were occupied by Inko’s fleshy thigh and waist. Her long skirt hiked up, exposing her legs. Not wishing to be the only one exposed, Inko brought her hand to the top of Hisashi's pants and ran her thumb along the inside of the waistband from back to front before pushing them down.

It was at that moment USB and the team decided to return home. Loudly, excited for their success. Not at all startled, Hisashi pulled himself away from Inko’s witched lips and tongue to frown at the grinning leader strutting happily into the room.

“Do you have to so loud? We’re busy.” Hisashi bent his head back down, fully intending to finish what they started, others in the room be damned. Not one to be ignored, USB took a wad of cash from their latest mission and tossed it down onto Hisashi’s messy black hair. Hisashi sighed before pulling himself up. Inko sat up and turned towards USB very annoyed at the interruption, she frowned at USB, but his grin only grew wider.

“What?” She asked with a little bit o a snap. Not at all appreciating the interruption either. It had been a while since Hisashi and herself had been able to be alone together, they were too busy that last two weeks.

USB pointed at the wad of cash. Inko looked down and her eyes grew wide; the cash, rapped with a string was probably as thick as her forearm. Picking it up, Inko flipped through the paper. All of them 10,000 yen notes.

“Is this real?” Hisashi asked, eyeing the money suspiciously. USB Grinned impossibly wider and nodded.

“It’s a down payment.” USB said smugly.

“Down payment for what?” Inko asked, righting herself from the interrupted fun with her lover. Hair and cloths fixed she handed the cash back to USB.

“We have another job.” USB didn’t wait for the other two to ask about it before continuing excitedly. “It’s a down payment for our biggest job yet. Four hundred thousand now and four hundred thousand after the job is finished.”

“What’s the job?” Hisashi asked.

“And for who?” Inko added. The amount of money unnerved her. The job would be risky if that kind of money was being offered.

“It’s easy.” USB reassured. “Our benefactor wants us to break into ‘Hero Headquarters’ and get our, well my, hands of the database.” USB nodded with confidence as though it was the simplest request in the world. “Of course, I excepted since all we will need is us three. It will be a cake walk and who are we to turn down such a generous offer.”

“Only us?” Inko was very concerned. Breaking into the ‘Hero Headquarters’ sounded close to a suicided mission. The headquarters held all the vulnerable data on all active and inactive heroes. Their strengths, weaknesses, addresses and even their social numbers. Everything. It was also one of the most secure buildings in Japan.

“Well, do you want to share the money? The fewer people involved the better. Besides; I only trust you and Hisashi.” It was true, as USB’s right and left hand he trusted them the most and he had a point about sharing the money. Not even knowing all the details, Inko knew it was a high-risk operation but the draw of the money was too magnetic, that money was life-changing money, they wouldn’t have to work again for a long, time.

“We need to know all the details first before we agree,” Hisashi said seriously. He was interested but wasn’t stupid enough, at least not anymore, to jump in, eyes closed as he uses to do. He and Inko didn’t have that type of luxury anymore.

“Yeah, yeah.” USB waved his had dismissively at Hisashi.

“The plan is,” USB pulled three I.D badges seemingly out of know where and handed them over to Inko. “We are going to infiltrate as temporary employees. Only for a few months. I will be in IT obviously, Hisashi will be Security and Inko you have to the most important job; you’ll be Executive Assistant to the director of Hero Logistics.” He smiled at their bewildered faces.

“But…But I’ve never even had a job before! How am I supposed to keep up for three months?” Inko asked in alarm. Didn’t executive assistants suppose to have an education and skills, actual skills? Hisashi would do fine in Security, he was built enough and could sport an impressive scowl if the occasion called for it; moreover, he would probably actually enjoy his job, temporary as it was.

USB shrugged, “Fake it until you make it?” he suggested. “We only have to be there until our benefactor gives me the signal to download the info and we’ll be out of there.”

Inko was biting her lip and wringing her hands together, muttering to herself in distress. Seeing that she was too distracted, Hisashi pressed for more answers.

“What do you mean? Don’t we have a timeline?” He looked at his I.D badge; it had all his information on it as well as a small picture of his face. Hisashi was curious as to where USB got a picture like this, it looked as though it belonged on a passport and like all passport photos, he looked like he was a murderer.

‘Not villain like at all’ Hisashi thought to himself sarcastically, seeing that Inko’s photo was much prettier, more befitting an executive assistant.

“No. We don’t have a timeline. The main bank of computers is locked up at all times unless maintenance is needed. Even then, most maintenance is done remotely on a terminal outside the room itself and only one action can be performed at a time on it; so I couldn’t access all the information in a timely manner so we need to get into the room. Our benefactor will be the one to make it so that I can be let into the secured room; it might take a while before that happens though, so we have to bide our time.” USB explained as though, not Actually having a plan was a normal occurrence but even Inko could see that USB wasn’t entirely thrilled about there not being a more detailed timeline.

They would have to actually work their jobs well they were waiting for the right time to strike. They would have to be their own teenage worst nightmare; Salary workers.

“Will we be getting paid well we’re there?” Hisashi asked, if they had to maintain appearances then that meant no other jobs in the meantime and that meant no money.  

“Of Course!” USB confirmed brightly. “Our benefactor even got you two a small apartment closer to the office. I’ll be staying here part-time to keep an eye on the others but it's safer for us to be separated from the gang for now. We don’t want any unsavoury association’s.”

USB took back their I.D’s for safekeeping and handed over a set of apartment keys.

“We haven’t agreed to do this yet.” Inko didn’t take the keys.

“What? Why not?” USB was perplexed at Inko’s hesitation.

“Hisashi and I need to talk about this first. This operation is dangerous and we can’t commit until we talk about it, alone.” Inko said firmly; she’d learned over the years that if you weren't firm and straight forward with USB he would use an excuse to not understand you're perspective or ignore any hints you were giving him. Despite Inkos rebellious nature, she didn’t like confirmation all that much, especially with her friends.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it but this is an opportunity of a lifetime and I’d much rather it be you two with me and not be replaced by one of those other idiots. Besides, if you can’t commit to this then I wonder at your commitment to the group.” USB said lightly before turning to leave.

The threat was not lost on either Inko or Hisashi as they watched USB retreat from the living space. Hisashi had an ugly look on his face staring at USB’s back, not at all liking the threats made against them.

Inko got up off the couch and grabbed Hisashi’s hand and dragged him out of the old office building. She didn’t let go until they were halfway down the road. As soon as she did Hisashi grabbed both of her hands with his two and brought them up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Eye’s closed, he took his time to enjoy the moment.

“We need to do this,” Inko stated. It was a fact; they did need to do this mission, it was for their own good.

“I don’t want to,” Hisashi replied quietly, “It’s not the clothes or the job and if it was just you and me I would do it in a heartbeat but it's not just you and me anymore.”

“I know,” Inko replied mournfully, “But this would be it. Once this is done, we would start over. It wouldn’t just be a fresh start it would be a good start and that’s all we need.”

“And each other.” Hisashi dropped Inkos hands and they leaned in to share a sweet kiss.

“Okay. We will do this, but only on one condition.” Hisashi said seriously.

“What is it?” Inko asked in mild suspicion.

“If you marry me.”

Inko smiled softly, “I think I can do that.”

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: M.L. / ​University of the Arts, Philadelphia, PA

April 2008

Image: MO Fine Arts Academy Name Badge / Logo: Roman Duszek

Note: ​Interview for a design student’s art history lecture​.​

Introduction:​

I wanted to know if you would be willing to answer a few questions for me. I really like your work, because I really appreciate the super hand-done and collage quality of it. I think it’s a way of working that’s often forgotten and overlooked, but personally I really like it, and your work really appeals to me. I’m especially interested in your work with show posters, so if you would be amenable to a short interview I would really appreciate it. You can just shoot me back an e-mail, or if you prefer a phone interview that would be fine too. Thanks! ​0​1) Did you go to school for art, or are you self taught? I was fortunate to attend one of the best kept secrets in design schools at Southwest Missouri State University (SMSU) in Springfield, MO. Shortly after I left, the name was simplified to Missouri State University. (Rewind A Bit to 1996) The year before my ​F​reshm​a​n fall semester, I was selected for the first annual Missouri Fine Arts Academy, which was held on the campus of SMSU. Before my senior year of high school (back in 1996) I thought about pursuing a career in architecture design, in particular, the area of sports stadium design. Though, after several years of lying to myself that I would eventually kick my math deficiency, I got a kick in the gut that this might not be my best choice. I loved to shut myself in my room for hours at a time drawing everything from comics to sports logos to buildings and such. I loved the creative aspect of this and felt that not only might I lose some of that personal one-on-one with architecture (though, nothing short of creative, but it’s a relatively computer and technical group effort), I would be held responsible to make the designs actually “work”. Being that I was terrible at math I didn’t want to be held accountable for future building flops. So, at the Fine Arts Academy I did a little bit of re-discovering of my own wheels, as I realized that I had more to offer from my fingertips. Raised from the dirt of a farm in the middle of the mid-west, I was pretty naive to most all things having to do with graphic design, I just knew that I should head in that direction, yet not limit myself only there. And I had shown signs of graphic design earlier on by way of winning a small town logo competition for a skating rink / bowling alley in the fifth grade. I just had a hunch while in creation of the identity (they kept the original, but i still have the newspaper clipping copy depicting my original entry) that I would be chosen out of the dozen other area schools and get my creation up on that big sign. Well, come time for the grand opening of The Fun Factory, my school principal forgot to notify me or my parents that I was the celebrated one to christen the new establishment. The next week she apologized, but i didn’t really give a care as I don’t like such sanctions of attention, and I still don’t. Most kids would have been struck with disappointment by the loss of a free chance to be the first to scuff the freshly waxed lanes with boulders and the new floor with skates, but the deep gut spoilage came to me by way of finally getting to see my logo up on that sign. I was devastated. My design had been butchered. This was my earliest memory of design sabotage. How could somebody take my vision and just ruin it? I look at all things in my life to have lead me up to this point in the writing, and so I feel that early little burnt spark in my gut that day told me something important…pour yourself into your work and protect that. (Fast Forward To 1996) To shorten the story, I came back from those three weeks of Fine Arts Academy in a born-again sense within my own talents, though still unsure of how to officially tap into it like I once had before body hair and outside influences and distractions pushed “play”. Being inspired by a couple of graffiti artists that I observed at the Fine Arts Academy, I began studying the art of typography (though, I had no idea what that word meant then) by way of this whole new world of urban language. And being that I tried to keep my nose clean and lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I just practiced my own graffitied typography twists and turns by way of perfecting one-of-a-kind personalized locker names and special birthday certificates for my classmates and friends on cheap Wal-Mart sketchbook paper. I was never so thankful to be attached to my small school in such a way as I only had two dozen classmate name plates to hand draw and color and diecut. If I did that now, my hands would surely buckle. I didn’t need to do it then, but I saw it as an investment towards the future growth of my work, or some way to start my last year of schooling fresh. My senior year was mostly spent in my bedroom making things. All of my friends had girlfriends and I had my work to sit next to on weekend nights. I also was inspired by a new art teacher at the school named Allen Heck. He was a real artist and not just some fluke or painter who couldn’t sell work so in-turn dropped on the totem pole to teach a crummy low-budget art program. Allen had a business head and an artistic head and he meant business in a classroom that spilled creativity. Even though there were a couple of art teachers before Allen that I admired, most art classes before his were mostly afterthoughts or throwaways. Places where the jerk-off kids could goof and ruin the atmosphere for the ones who wanted to be there to learn and develop, just like at most any school, i suppose. Anyway, I found an excuse to be in Allen’s classroom as much as I could and he sorta guided me on some design paths. I also helped him teach several of the elementary classes (we had K-12 grades all under one roof) that year. At this same time I was getting really involved in devouring music and an early mining idea of combining art and music started to strike, though it wouldn’t cement until several years later. Outside of Allen’s classes I landed a logo for the local Future Farmers of America chapter, along with other little so-called “best artist in the class” projects. A title that I didn’t really think I deserved as a friend of mine was ten times the draftsman that I was. Anyway, for my not-so troubles with the Future Farmers (I wasn’t a member and I didn’t want to follow my blood line), I got a giant canvas carrying case for artwork big enough that a beefy baby calf corpse could take a nap in it (I use it now to stuff my dirty clothes in for the laundromat trips). In early 1997, my guidance counselor set-up a special solo trip for me to visit an area company that specialized in yearbook designs. I went and wasn’t completely enthused about this place that seemed to put a lock on creativity in a darkened room with eyes staring at computer screens, shuffling around items given to them, though, I lied to myself that as I would grow older, this is what I might want. It just didn’t really say “Happiness” to me though, more-so (to quote The Beatles), “Happiness is a warm gun”. Still, I decided to go on ahead with going to a college that had graphic design courses. As graduation loomed on the purple and white horizon, I began to think a bit more seriously about applying for schools to further my education. Being that I had some solid fortune at the Fine Arts Academy at Southwest Missouri State University, and being that Springfield, MO was four hours south down the black top road (far enough from everything, but not too far for a weekend visit), I registered with no time to spare. Thoughts of the Kansas City Art Institute loomed, but they were more expensive, and i felt some sort of strange magnetism to SMSU. I ended up getting in by a scrape to the only college I applied for. I had the lowest common denominator for test scores and was in the top half of my graduating class as I was 12 out of 24. That was all the requirements I needed, the deal was set. The transition from high school to college art class (like most I assume) was a little challenging for me as I soon realized that the mold I was in previously had to be broken as I wasn’t comparable to skill with my new classmates. Though, the drawing classes frustrated, yet intrigued me, I did do fairly decent in my fundamentals design classroom. And this is where I learned more about making like-minded, potential life-long friends, a skill I hadn’t perfected much since my first day of Meadville first grade. All of my friends in foundations course were annoyed with working in cutting blades and paper and such…whereas, I flourished a good reputation in those departments and at times neglected all other areas of my studies to perfect my art skills. On break one early spring morning my friends spoke of much better things to come in the coming semester. Their minds were on the computer. They couldn’t wait as they had backgrounds in computer-related image creating in their high school yearbook classes. My school had one computer until I was a senior, and then we got a baker’s dozen or so. Other than that few hour visit to the local yearbook factory, I was naive to the idea of a computer as the essential tool for the modern day graphic designer. Exhausted by their comments, anxieties swelled in me and out finally popped my ignorance to the subject, “I plan to take the direction in graphic design that is done without the computer. I’m going to take the courses that are all hands-on.” And instant mockery, was I. My friends ripped me a new one and basically said I better learn pretty quick because graphic design wasn’t conquered without the computer. This is all really quite humorous to me know (possibly to them too) as I’ve somehow managed some mild success with my hands-on design approach and most of them are staring at computers all day in jobs they dislike or not even doing graphic design at all. Later that year I found out where the design kids were stuffed as I climbed aboard a twenty minute bus ride to the small downtown area of Springfield and up an elevator zooming past vacant floors housing archives of university products and collections to the top of a five story building where the world of graphic design officially opened up to me. Did it open wide at first? That answer is a giant NO as I was still so naive to what the heck I was getting into that when my friends early-on claimed, “I can’t wait until next semester for typography class”. I said, “Cool! We get to design maps?” ​0​2) Were your areas of interest in school (artistically) the same as they are now? My artistic whatevers were put on hold the first few semester of design school. Not only that, but they were run thru the emotional and physical gambits over and over. Being thrown on a computer was very troubling for me and there was a time that I almost quit design all together because I didn’t feel a connection to the work anymore thru the screen barrier. So, I struggled to find myself again for about a year and a half. Though, at the same time the design instructors at SMSU were (and still are) old-fashioned in a sense with their training and we still did many hands-on projects. I shined more in these areas, though my work still seemed more like decorating than me trying to say something. True, design is pretty much decorating and saying something, but, I couldn’t really find myself and it felt more like doing my chores than anything else. I think it can be dangerous when the designer is hogging the avenue and only speaking for their ego or style and not client intentions. Sometimes a healthy dose of both works, sometimes not. Anyway, I just didn’t “get” what I was doing and basically was doing an incredibly OK job at fulfilling my instructor’s projects. Which is fine, but it took me a while to really enjoy design. All of the instructor’s at SMSU were (mostly still are) from Eastern Europe and Russia. This was a great experience for me as it opened me up to not only a unique education in design, but also one in culture. I felt a strange connection to this as I was somewhat foreign being an artistically-challenged kid from a farm in The Sticks, Missouri. There is an exciting mix of design and passion going on down there on the fifth floor of that building. New wheels in me started to get greased around this same time and my eyes started to open a pinch. And they really thumped when I went on a limb to attach illustration classes to my already full plate during my junior year. I was starting to get hungry and / or full…full in a sense to where I needed to get the work out of my system. It was time for me to find my voice. ​0​3) How did you get started working as a​n​ illustrator? Growing up and drawing a lot, I thought I was pretty decent at it, but nothing more special or ordinary than creating strange, graphic WWII battles and mimicking comic book characters. I even had an epic, life-sized drawing of Batman I worked on at my grandma’s almost every week after school. Sadly, I think it was thrown away recently when she moved. However, on the back burner to the drawing, there was a side of me that always did a lot of cut-outs and saving and archiving of things. I think most every kid at some point cuts things of interest from magazines and tacks them to their wall or jumbles words cut to make “cool” sayings glued on paper. My older brother and I did this a lot. Mostly, we were just never bored and always doing something and always being inspired by anything and everything. We even created our own little magazine (I still have a few issues) at my grandma’s. My grandmother was a good influence on my creative side too as we were always making homemade things there. My siblings and I recreated any event we went to or anything we watched on television / movies in our sandbox, tree house(s), forts and bedroom. I was fortunate to have a large intake of popular culture and mix that with the experience of farm life and a lot of room to play. All of this fueled my creative side to where at a younger age I had a lot of options to choose from and I enjoyed and loved them all. Though, it took me a while to re-discover this within myself in design school. I was getting deeper into school and the ever present “What do I wish to do with my life” question(s) (among other personal mind trappings and inner wrangling). This especially was asked after I signed up with other design students on several professional studio visits. Every time I would come home with an empty heart from these “creative” places that felt more like controlled meat markets than anything remotely creative. Some people thrive in certain areas and not everybody wants the same thing, but the typical trappings of community computer screen shuffling didn’t offer me much hope at all. I have always enjoyed being alone making things. I’ve also been very protective of my creations and I didn’t want to be thrown into a factory-like design setting unless it was my own to where I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and have parental rights and control. Coming back to school from these studio visits was very discouraging to me. I felt confused and as if my career path was in a box already. Around this time I toyed with the idea of taking illustration classes to help push myself a little more as I wanted to keep what little fire I had in me from burning out. However, I wasn’t confident in my illustration skills as I thought I wasn’t solid enough at regular drawing. This is a terrible mistake that I feel many students make. I sorta had to shovel deep and realize the way I created when I was younger and that really helped cultivate a new side of me as I learned how to pour myself into and out of my work again and it was fun and special. Looking back, I think mustering up the courage to find confidence in illustration helped me in the long run. Though, at times I still struggle with thinking that I’m still not good enough at particular things. The only competition I have is with myself. ​0​4) Did it take you a long time to find a working style that you are satisfied with? For the most part I advise for makers of things to stay away from the trap of a “working style”. And it’s mighty easy to stumble or choose something and milk it, which is the feeling I get from the majority of artists and designer’s portfolios. It’s easy to stick with turning over the same old tires on the same old asphalt. I realize I have a certain feel to my body of work, but each day my head’s approach to life is so different (heck each minute sometimes) that I try to trust my gut instincts. I just try to speak from my heart, which ends up in my gut sometimes. A lot of times I trust good ol’ intuition. Of course, some projects require a bit more fine tuning than others as something like a logo has more life than say, a concert poster. Even though the logo might have more of a lasting impression, I’d rather put my butter to the blank paper bread of the poster. I love to try new things and just reach and grab at whatever I have around me and in my head, marriaging that with the band and the music in some strange brew. At times it can be quite intoxicating and when you do it enough and for a long while, you end up not even thinking, rather just doing and it’s fluid and non-calculating. This is when it becomes pure, this is when design becomes true language. I’ve had some projects where I’ll be told about it from a client and I’ll immediately have a vision in my head of how it should look, and then go home and start teaching it how to walk. Items like CD packages are very similar to logos because you’ve got to really give out something that you don’t mind sticking around a while in the lock-down of identity for a product or persona. There have been a few CDs that have happened out in a matter of a couple hours. The majority though, I like to have enough time to tackle and build in three separate sessions. But, I really don’t like sitting on projects for a long time. And usually the client has more of a personal care for a CD than a poster, so it might take a three act play or teeter tottering until all sides are fixed to fancy. I’ve had a few CDs that have stretched to almost a year. Being that my work is recognizable to a hands-on aesthetic, I’m sure most think that I don’t touch a computer. This is true and not true. I try to build as much as I can by hand as I love that connection I get. The screen barrier between me getting dirty with my work has bothered me and created anxieties with my work since day one in formal design class when I was thrown on a computer to mash buttons. I do what I can by hand and then use the computer as a layout and printing tool and I use it to correct or help put the finish on some items. Most designers forget that the computer is only a tool. If I could have it my complete way, I wouldn’t use a computer at all. I have made several projects in this way, but it’s hard to do it all in this fashion anymore and I have a wide format ink jet printer to print a lot of my more complex poster works with. The computer has ruined and helped designers. But, overall I feel that if it’s treated with respect and not used as substitute brains, then a designer will truly show his or her meat and potatoes. For the most part, I get a little disappointed in the output from a vast majority of designers as it all feels far away like an afterthought that doesn’t count, or simply as a decorating kit or pre-fabricated template you buy at a craft store. But, I try to keep my disgruntled burly bears close to my own heels. As long as I am creating what needs to be created from my own little corner of the basement, then I am a pretty happy camper. Though, the computer has broken many a bulb, not only with designers, but also with attitudes toward treating the designer with respect. Maybe it’s always been this way, but it’s easy for me to think that I can throw an iPhone and hit somebody who thinks they know graphic design because they can change the colors on their myspace or blog (and I’d have to borrow their iPhone to do so). It’s great that creativity is being fused with daily interaction, in a sense, but it can get a little confusing for people. I don’t think it should be reserved for a certain few, but I feel that everybody thinks they are a graphic designer now. It’s like trying to keep the raccoons out of the patch of sweet corn. You’ve just got to find the right gauge of wire to shock the perimeter with so they will find other food to steal and nibble. And there are still those who are hungry enough to go find and get the good stuff on their own. I suppose I’ve found myself to be more in tune to old folk artists and with the mindset of the old school designers and illustrators. Folk art is as pure in art and language as cave painting and daily ancient living. I like the idea of somebody just up and making something out of the blue because they’ve got to get their story out for themselves. Last summer I went from The Museum of Modern Art to the American Folk Art Museum in New York City in an afternoon and found a more pure-incentive to making things from the folk artists than the artists and designers across the street. It was refreshing. I had been enjoying my personal study of folk art history the past four or five years, but seeing it out of the pages of a book or web site really gave it a new light. And to see that most folk art has pushed into some avenues of the mainstream is really interesting, though chokes the purity from it original conceptual intention. I find that a lot of artists and designers are just as much about making themselves as important as the work they are producing. I just have never understood this idea. So, what individuals are my art and design in kin with? There are many, and it goes beyond just one field, but here is the short list: Grandma Gibson / Jim Henson / Stanley Donwood / Lester Beall / Saul Bass / Seymour Chwast & Pushpin Studio / Paul Klee / Ivan Chermayeff / Henryk Tomaszewski / Art Chantry / Vaughn Oliver / Edward Gorey / Saul Steinberg / Bill Traylor / Ray Johnson / Eric Carle / Cy Twombly / Robert Rauschenberg / Henry Darger / Hans Schleger…to name a few. There are a few items I’ve created that I can tell don’t speak right in retrospect (and they are probably obvious to others as well). These were the ones that caught me in a bad mood, exhaustion or in a lack of time. It’s so hard not to let the daily life and emotions influence the work. And in my case I’ve never been able to just chase my dreams, as I’ve had to work full-time day jobs and at times part-time jobs on top of those, and then slide my work into late nights and weekends (and I always had a girlfriend on top of that…now, a wife). It can be a hard struggle for a healthy balance. I just try to approach it with the idea that I am a man and a man who happens to make things. I am doing what I need to be doing and working hard towards the goal of some day having all of the clocks wound on my time. I have been fortunate in my choices of day jobs. I admire those who wish to live in near-poverty designing for bands and independent projects, but there is no money in it at all and it’s easy for people to take advantage of you. I tried it for a few short stints, but got tired quickly of scraping by and relying on musician’s responsibility of paying me and I ran out of belongings to sell to pay the rent. Throwing out the few bad apple clients, I must say I can’t complain too much as I’ve been blessed with some great people to not only work with, but also to have relationships with beyond the art. Janitorial and groundskeeping had me for 5 years and I loved it. The pay isn’t great, but I was alone and within my thoughts and had time to write and actually make a few things while on the clock. Also, I was able to bring home whatever stuff I could dig out of the dumpster. I’m still chipping at a 15,000 page stack of bricked paper that I found in a dumpster 6 years ago. Currently, I am in the second year of being trapped in a cubicle as a data entryman. It’s a great job, it’s not too difficult, I work with people I know, I walk to work, I’m able to get my teeth fixed and am setting aside some money now for my future, but I don’t plan to marry it as it’s not what I need to be doing with my talents. Many days I can’t sit still because all I can think about is going home and making things. Design is a way of life for me. It’s easy for it to start to take over at times, but I’ve been working on a better balance of it by getting up at 5:00 in the morning, before the “junk” pollution of the day. I love getting up before the crickets and getting to work. Even if I’m filling up on books and movies, it’s still work for me. But, it’s not really work, it’s just what I enjoy and I kinda need it to aid survival. If a designer only puts their design mind onto paper / screen into a 9 to 5 crack, then they might want to think about looking into other lines of life work to chew on. ​0​5) Do you do a lot of self promotion, and how? I’ve been in an interesting position to where my work has been trickling word of mouth for the most part. I’ve been surrounded in positions where I’ve been around musicians a lot and in general, people have been attracted to my creations to where they too want me to make them something. With age, I don’t get out as much to shows, nor do I live with musicians anymore (thankfully). Those days were great, but that kind of lifestyle can’t be taken seriously forever. But, it helped shape me in some way. And I’ve established myself, somewhat. It still amazes me that my work is speaking in the volume that it has. It’s certainly nothing of major impact, but it means a lot to me. For many years I’ve also been at a constant with submitting large quantities of my work to yearly design magazine annuals. This breaks my bank for sure, but it’s the best way of promotion as the work gets spread around the world quickly. I have contacts in many countries who found me this way and thus, offer me entry into their books, magazines, contests or give me a shot to make something for them. The internet is a great source too, of course. Recently I’ve somehow caught a breathe of fresh air from the web currents and realize the easy importance of putting myself out there on it. It’s a strange world though, and I’m still a bit ignorant of it, but I’m becoming more comfortable. I used to not be into self-promotion much. Not only that, I just didn’t have much time with it, being weighed down by day jobs and life stuff. And I’m a believer of the work speaking for itself and letting it take time to mature and incubate. Right now I’m looking at how much weight my portfolio has gained and am seeing what alternate routes I can walk with it. I’ve always planned to be doing my best work, for me, but I’ve never really pushed it as hard until now, as the big No. 30 looms. True, I am making what I want to make, but I don’t wish to be working a full-time job much longer. I have alot more to say and in different varieties of value packs and I just need more second hands to say it in. 0​6) Lastly, because I’m interested in doing show posters, do you have any advice on positioning oneself into that market?

I tell a lot of people a similar thing that I’ve heard Quentin Tarantino say to aspiring filmmakers, (to paraphrase here) “Just go and make what you need to make and do it at whatever cost.” Just get out there and make things and get those things out, even if you go broke or worn out doing it. Catch fire and start a paper trail. I was fortunate to not only love devouring music since the day my ears could, but ended up in positions to where I was surround by musicians and / or individuals with like-minded inner ear infestations. Most importantly, I found that I could merge the things I loved into a cohesive music and art stomping ground. My last couple of college​ ​years I befriended several bands and musicians and had my own little business on the side from class, making show posters and CD packages. After four and a half years of college and exhausting all my design class options…AND ability to fail Algebra four times and even an art history course…I had a higher calling to quit spinning my own wheels and dropped college from the daily schedule, among many other things weighing me down at the time. It was gutsy, but one of the most crucially sound decisions I’ve ever made. I moved from the Bible Belt Buckle comforts of Springfield and into a big, orange, dilapidated house in the middle of a shady section of Kansas City, Missouri with a band that had become my best friends. I almost didn’t do it as my pants pockets were turned inside-out and thoughts of sticking around the family farm to save up money kept me down. I think a lot of people were very disappointed in me too for quitting school. But, my decision was made and I believe in following the heart instead of stopping up the artery. I would have been miserable to stay at home and I had bigger fields to plow and sew. And I didn’t need a piece of paper saying what I was supposed to be doing. Most importantly, only I can tell myself what I should do with me. -djg

[charlesoberonn]

Dr. Destiny #4

Dr. Destiny #1 Dr. Destiny #2 Dr. Destiny #3

A long time ago, a young boy was playing with his mother by the lake. But while she wasn’t looking, they boy was gone. She searched for him for days until she found his body washed up on the shore. Stricken with grief, his mother would do everything to get her child back. She learned the dark arts and summoned him back from the dead. But when her boy was back, she was repulsed by him. He had transformed into a monster of weeds and moss. She cast him out, exiling him. With nowhere left to go, the boy returned to the lake from which his body came. Saddened and alone, the boy cried, and his tears woke up the spirit of the lake. She felt sorry for the boy and guilty for causing his death, so she allowed him to live with her, caring for him and nurturing him like his mother wouldn’t. One day, after years of living in the bottom of the lake, the boy was crying again. “What’s wrong, my child?” asked the lake spirit. “I was watching the people play in the lake above. All of my friends have grown up, found love, and had kids of their own. And I am still a boy.” “Worry not, my child. For you will grow.” the spirit blessed her child with a song. As more years went by, the child grew and grew, until his body was the size of an island and his head was tall enough to see above the water. And from where he sat he could watch all of the people play.

”That’s a beautiful story.” Lilac said as she leaned in closer to read the old inscription on the sign. A warm breeze blowed from the lake left and brushed through her ginger hair.

“It’s probably just a story. And even if there is a kernel of truth to it, it’s probably not nearly as beautiful.” Dr. Destiny said. She was holding onto Lilac’s hand and looking up at the wooden sign. Above the inscription was an old illustration etched into the wood, an island with a face peeking above the water, with a wide warm smile looking directly at the viewer. Above that was the title of the sign: “The Story of Benagam Island”

Lilac turned towards her date. She was wearing a pair of tiny blue shorts and a red t-shirt. “And what is the kernel of truth?” she asked with a bit of whimper in her voice that Vena recognized from their first meeting a few weeks back.

Dr. Destiny sighed. “It’s just a theory, but most scholars agree that prehistoric necromancy was a very shady profession. Most medicine back then was superstitious, and people saw necromancers as the opposite to their witch doctors.” she explained, delving a bit into the history of her profession as she and Lilac walked hand in hand.

Vena was wearing a simple green sundress, with a brown branches pattern on the hem and a bit of brighter green lace around her collar. “Most likely the boy was a slave of some tribe, and once he grew too sick to be useful they sold him to necromancers who experimented on him.” as she said that, Lilac’s face contorted in horror.

“They ritualistically killed him, gutted him, and then resurrected him as soon as they could, probably with a bunch of superstitious spells they didn’t understand.” she kept on talking, not noticing her date’s distress. “You’d be surprised, but the most horrifying thing they did is actually the resurrection. They did it far too early.”

“W-why is that?” Lilac stopped. She avoided eye contact with Dr. Destiny and stared towards the lake where the island was. It looked just like it does on the sign, though with a little less vegetation. She smiled softly, her spirits lifted.

“It has to do with a person’s attachment to either world-” Dr. Destiny continued her explanation but was interrupted when her taller companion put a hand cheek and turned her head to face towards the lake.

“You know what, never mind. Whatever happened to him, I’m glad he’s watching the people of the lake right now.” she gestured towards the curve of one of the small valleys on the island, which looked a little like a mouth. “Smiling at us.”

Lilac smiled down at Vena, and she smiled back, a bit of blush on her face.

After a short walk through the coast they decided to have lunch at a humble tourist trap, a wooden restaurant with a perch watching over the lake. Vena ordered some fries while Lilac simply drank from a bottle full of orange sports drink she brought from home.

Vena looked up at her date, her hands were fidgeting with a fry nervously, turning it into potato mush. She put it down on the plate and opened her mouth. But Lilac beat her to the punch.

“Even from this angle, it looks like the island is smiling at us.” she said, her eyes pointed at the lake. It was the hottest hour of the day, and more and more people were swimming around in the water, splashing about or riding in boats on the far end of the lake behind the island, near the cliffs and waterfall.

“You really connected to this story, huh?” Dr. Destiny asked as she watched the island as well. “The idea of a new life after unlife. That there’s a continuation after a brush with necromancy. The notion that you’re not tainted with death forever.”

Lilac frowned, her eyes staring down at the table. She grabbed the mush that used to be Vena’s fries. “What did the poor fry do to you?” Lilac giggled, and then laughed out loud. She started reshaping it, pushing back its insides and removing the extra bits until it resembled its original shape once again. “There, I brought it back from the dead.”

Dr. Destiny stared at the fry and burst out laughing, she held her stomach and leaned down, resting her elbows on the table. “Lilac, thank you for taking me here.” she said.

Lilac smiled in turn and put her hand on Vena’s forearm. She leaned in and looked closer at her. Vena swallowed and leaned in as well. Slowly at first. As Lilac’s grip on her arm tightened, she felt her heart race.

Their intimate moment was cut short when a loud high-pitch sound was heard throughout the entire lake area, an alarm. It was followed by an announcer urging the people to exit the lake immediately. Dr. Destiny got up, pulling her arm away from Lilac’s hand, who was grabbing onto thin air for a moment before the redhead retracted her arm and got up as well.

“What do you think it is?” Lilac asked as the people began to leave the lake in a hurry. Some people were looking up, and the two woman did the same to see what was going on.

Up above the lake, on the edge of the cliff by the top of the waterfall, stood a slender and tall figure. Much too tall to be human. Their stature and dimensions were clear even from this distance, and Dr. Destiny estimated their size must’ve been over 20 meters tall.

Dr. Destiny rushed off the perch and onto the coast, walking around and rubbing against the tourists and locals and towards a small dock where people just getting off a boarded boat. A woman in a blue one-piece swimsuit stopped her in her track.

Lilac dropped the fry and went off after her date who left without saying a word. “What’s going on?” she asked, a bit of anger in her voice as her pitch turned higher.

“Lilac, my badge is in your bag, can you get it for me?” Dr. Destiny said, her arm outstretched.

Lilac took off her backpack and started rummaging through it, all the while she alternated between looking at Vena and looking at the slender silhouette up on the cliff. She handed Dr. Destiny her badge, a small silver rectangle adorned with an ornate jellyfish imprint and branded with Vena Destiny’s name.

“Thank you.” Dr. Destiny showed the guard the brand, which mostly confused her at first. “I’m a necromancer, and the thing up there is definitely undead.” she pointed to the silhouette, who all that time remained unmoving. The guard sighed and let the two go as she moved on to tend to other people.

“I’m coming with.” Lilac said as she followed Vena, her steps much bigger than the shorter and catching up to her easily. “Don’t try to stop me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Dr. Destiny replied, briefly making eye contact with Lilac before focusing her eyes on the target, a small boat that was parked by the empty dock. “But you have to understand what we’re dealing with. This thing is very dangerous.”

“So was the Ink Baroness.” Lilac said confidently, as though she had memorized the answer beforehand.

“This is different. I’m not going to be able to send it away or trap it somewhere. We’re gonna have to reason with it.” Dr. Destiny jumped onto the boat and Lilac followed suit, her legs getting caught up on the entry a bit before she straightened herself.

The boat’s navigation system was simple. You pointed to a region of the lake you wanted to go and the magnetic guided vehicle would take you there. Dr. Destiny pointed at a spot 3/4th of the way towards the cliffs, a bit east of the island in the center of the lake.

As the boat started going slowly, Dr. Destiny tensed up and started preparing her spells. Her hands were glowing green as she drew runes and lines on her palm and the back of her hand.

“Vena...” she heard Lilac say. She turned around to face her after a minute of silence. They were alone on the lake, the people on the shore watching her and the silhouette with anticipation. “What is it?”

“It’s a Wandering Deity.” Dr. Destiny said, her voice going quiet, barely audible with the boat’s engine. “It’s what happens when the boy from the story doesn’t find a new home.”

As the two looked up, they saw the slender figure kneel, bending its knees forward. “D-does it see us?” Lilac asked. and then she got her answer, as the figure jumped into the air and dove down.

Screams and gasps were heard from the captive audience at the shore as the figure fell down the tall cliff. Dr. Destiny started shuffling quickly, trying to turn the boat around. But she couldn’t do so in time as the figure landed on the water.

The splash it caused was enormous, making lakewater rain down on Destiny and Lilac, but the wave it caused was even bigger, and they were right near its epicenter. The water rocked the boat up, raising it and then crashing it down on the now unquiet water. Dr. Destiny and Lilac held on as much as they could, trying to pull their weight back to stabilize the boat and prevent it from flipping over.

They were both on the floor, coughing up water and trying to get their bearings. Vena was still coughing and wheezing as Lilac was the first to look up to see the thing that just jumped into the lake.

They were less than ten meters away from it. And though they were in the deepest part of the lake, the creature that was standing up still towered over five meters above the surface, much taller than their boat.

“Vena, look...” Lilac said, her voice sounding different to Dr. Destiny, more alive but also less powerful. Like a quiet whisper that carried more meaning than the words it spoke.

Dr. Destiny climbed back to her feet and saw what she was afraid of. A creature made of bone and black ligaments. It had a humanoid shape, but its proportions seemed stretched and unnatural. Its face looked like a white mask resembling a skull that was built on top of a black cluster of wires and veins. It didn’t have any mouth, but its eyes glowed like fireflies inside massive eye sockets in its mask-like face. Its body was skinny and bony, but didn’t have much of actual bone, being mostly made from the same black ligament as its head, with a few plates of bone covering its chest and shoulders. The rest of the creature was underwater, surrounded by the bubbles and waves its landing created.

The creature was staring at them, just for a second. But it didn’t seem like it could actually see them. Its eyes seemed more interested in the water under the boat than the people inside it. After that, it turned its head towards the island.

“Elder One!” Dr. Destiny wasted no time in calling the creature. But it ignored her. It turned on its heel and started walking. Its body glided through the water like it wasn’t even there, walking slowly but surely towards the center of the lake. Its stare was aimed at the island in the center of the lake.

“Does it even speak our language?” Lilac asked, her voice back to its chattering and trembling infliction. Despite the heat, she was visibly shaking.

“No, but it was worth a shot.” Dr. Destiny said, her tone very serious and not matching what she said. She looked down and wiped the water off the boat’s navigation screen with the hem of her dress. “Please work...” she whispered to nobody in particular as she navigated the boat as close to the island as she could. She took the lever controlling the boat’s speed and pulled it back to a slower setting.

“What are you doing? Don’t we want to get to the island first?” Lilac asked, her hand on the level. Dr. Destiny swatted her hand away and glared at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...” Vena said. “We don’t want to beat it, I want to get close to it. To speak to it.”

“Okay... I don’t understand, but...”

“I’ll tell you.” Dr. Destiny said, her face serious but also showing off warmth. Lilac raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“The reason you’re not supposed to raise the dead too early... well, raising the dead is unadvisable in general. But the reason why you’re not supposed to raise them too early is because of attachment to our world.” Dr. Destiny explained as the boat was beginning to catch up with the creature, but it was lagging behind.

Lilac grabbed on the lever, pushing it forward to speed up the boat. Dr. Destiny nodded.

“Imagine you’re forced to move to another town. You barely know anybody there, and it’s big and scary and you miss your friends. And then somebody offers you the chance to go back home and even takes you back there.” Dr. Destiny stood up on the chair of the boat, trying to be tall enough and be noticed by the Wandering Deity.

“Once you’re back here, you’re gonna hold on to your place here as hard as you can. You’re never gonna let go.” Dr. Destiny continued.

“Like the boy.” Lilac responded.

“Exactly. You’re gonna root yourself in this world. Because now you’re here to stay.” the boat matched speed with the Deity, which was halfway towards the island.

“That’s why you called it an Elder One? Because it’s been here a long time?”

“Yes. Over 10,000 years, probably.” Dr. Destiny began to lose balance. But the creature finally noticed her.

It turned its head towards her stared at her with its glowing eyes.

“This thing has a much deeper connection to the world of the living than even you and I. And even if I could send it back, it’s only gonna cause trouble on the other side.” Dr. Destiny looked down at Lilac, who now looked at her with awe in her eyes.

She turned her head to face the creature, which stopped in its track to stare at her. Lilac pulled the lever all the way back and made the boat stop as well. “We’re gonna have to face it right here. Like we do with everything else in life.”

The back of Dr. Destiny’s palm glowed green as she extended it forward. The creature glared down at the hand, and then shrieked. Its wirey body contorted to make a horrible noise. It turned back towards the island and continued walking.

Dr. Destiny pointed at Lilac who obliged and pushed the lever forward, making the boat move ahead of the creature, blocking its path. She faced the creature again, this time stepping onto the front of the boat, trying to keep her balance as she continued extending her hand.

The creature raised its own hand up and its eyes turned red. Its arm moved more like a noodly tentacle with a sharp bony end than like a human arm. It swung its tentacle down towards the boat.

Lilac shrieked, covering her face with her hands, but Dr. Destiny didn’t fret. She moved her hand up and down in a whipping motion. As she did that, an extension of the light on her hand formed a whip and she cracked it against the creature, making it recoil and scream again.

She retracted her whip and extended her hand one last time. From the distant shore she seemed brave, but Lilac could see up close how Vena was shaking just as much as her.

Reluctantly, the Wandering Deity raised its other hand, which looked a lot more human, with bony fingers and black joints, and reached forward. It touched its index finger against Dr. Destiny’s open palm, and she grabbed onto it. She closed her eyes and began to hum.

The creature recoiled a bit as the green light from her hand started climbing up its veins, but Dr. Destiny didn’t let go until it calmed down. Her hum became louder as she suddenly opened her eyes. Lilac was startled, almost screaming as she saw Vena’s eyes transform into the same black void with firefly points of light, like the creature.

“Elder One, though your original form has been lost to time, and I dare not try to understand your current form, I am opening this channel so we may communicate, soul to soul. Please, allow me access.” Dr. Destiny spoke, her voice commanding, with a little echo, like she was talking inside a closed chamber.

Dr. Destiny was shaking, her eyes trembling in fear as she stared up at the creature’s vacant face. The Wandering Deity didn’t respond. It just stood in the water, waiting.

“I know your realm has been claimed by cities and farms. And I know your worshippers forgotten you. But we have not. You have suffered enough, Elder One, do not let the cycle of violence continue. Leave this island alone. And trust that as you wander the wastes, our thoughts will always be with you. Your sacrifice has not been for naught. Our lives are owed to what you shown our ancestors.” she continued talking.

The Wandering Deity made a new sound, somewhere between a cymbal and hum. It retracted its finger and closed its hand. As it did, it turned around and started walking back towards the cliff. Dr. Destiny, Lilac and the entire lake remained frozen as they watched the creature climbing its way up the cliff and disappear into the tall woods beyond.

Dr. Destiny sighed in relief and then shrieked as she nearly fell down the slippery surface. She held onto Lilac’s hand, who helped pull her back into the boat, where they sat side by side.

Lilac reached down and grabbed Vena’s hand, holding onto it tight. The trembling slowly subsided as Dr. Destiny sighed and wheezed.

“So, how did you know how to make it go away?” Lilac asked one last question.

“I sort of winged it.” Vena said. The two of them laughed out loud until they ran out of breath.

As they were laughing, Lilac turned to the left to look at the island, now very close to them. And for a second, she could swear she saw it move, and smile at the two of them, as though to thank them.

[sportscarss]

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Appearance 9 Photos

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Taking a folio from EV authority Elon Musk, the E-Tron can be aloof with a absolutely refundable $1,000 drop against deliveries, which will alpha in the additional division of 2019. Audi claims 10,000 association accept placed orders in Europe already—none of whom will absorb years cat-and-mouse for delivery.

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How to Make it to the End of the School Year

Episode 66 of the 10-Minute Teacher- An Audio Blog Post

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

Today I share a post I wrote several years ago that tends to be shared like crazy this time of year. I hope it encourages you to finish well. Here’s the link to the original blog post: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/ if you want to read it instead of listening to it.

Listen now

Listen to iTunes

Stream by clicking here

Download the PDF Transcript

 Transcript of How to Make it to the End of the School Year

I’ve included the transcript here today since I’m the one who did the show. Just keeping it simple. The link for the transcript still points here!

Go to the original blog post here: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/

[Recording starts 0:00:00]

Hello remarkable teachers, I’ll let you know at the end of the show how you can get my list of my 200 plus favorite Ed tech tools and sign up for my bi-weekly newsletter.

 It is my home to shine a light of encouragement on you with the 10 Minute Teacher. And I just wanted to give a shout out to some of you who’ve really encouraged me lately. So I got the loveliest letter from Erika Lewis. And Erika, this message is for you.

                    Imagine you driving to your special needs school and having a more positive mindset as you listen to the 10 Minute Teacher. That sweet email you sent me really does make my day and I forwarded it to my husband, Kip, who’s the producer and it really excited us. I know that it may sound silly but I really do appreciate the reviews and the kind remarks.

                    Also, some of the latest reviewers on iTunes I wanted to give you guys a shout out because there were also just some lovely reviews that you gave me. [Mark Eican, Bridgette McCaw, Kimberly Onick, Nicky Lee and Jay Biseren.] And I hope I pronounced your names correctly. But I really do read all the reviews and I appreciate it so much. Now, I’ve added a new feature for you. I’m going to start letting you know the episode number at the beginning of the show. And a lot of you have been liking the transcripts but you want an easier way to find them. So this is episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

                    And you have to give me about 10 hours to get the transcription all together because there’s a pretty quick lead time on that but you’ll be able to go to coolcatteacher.com/e66 for the full transcripts and a link to the show notes. And you’ll definitely want to check out those show notes because it has links to all kinds of things that we mentioned in the show. So I hope that is helpful for you. And now let’s get started with Episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

The Ten-minute Teacher podcast with Vicki Davis. Every weekday you’ll learn powerful practical ways to be a more remarkable teacher today.

Vicki:           There’s a blog post I wrote three years ago that at the end of every school year it trends. So today, I’m going to turn this into a motivational Monday for all of you podcast listeners out there who may not have passed about the blog and seen this post. How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

Yesterday after school I earned my Dumpster Diver 101 Merit Badge. As a senior now, I went through the schools track looking for an unmarked photo CD that had been accidently tossed. They made out my sanity but they cannot doubt my love. After it was found I drove home quickly to take a hot bath. You know, I was reminded of a word I hadn’t used in ages, but we used it often in the 1980s, “grody.” I’m not even sure that’s a word. All the while, I started thinking about the crazy days these are. It is the end of the school year for us and you know April and May are just crazy. These are the days apt to be described by the first paragraph of a tale of two cities.

You know, right now I have three planning periods a week – not kidding. Plus Special Olympics Bocce Ball plus NHS blood drive, plus senior slide slow, plus graduation movie, plus bidding out pulling cable for the new building, plus the technology playing and budget for next year, plus tech support, plus my book launch for Reinventing Writing to coordinate, plus graduating me second child and getting her off to college – minus sanity. I say this because tens of thousands of you live this every day. This is your life too. You totally get this. You know, too bad nobody else does and don’t expect them to, either.

[00:04:00]

                    People pretty soon are you going to start casually saying, “Aren’t you glad things are winding down?” And you know they are among the clueless. There is nothing winding down about the end of the school year, it is more like a complete and total crash. You accelerate until you run into a brick wall and you hope your seat belt lets you get out of the thing intact so you can limp off into your summer.

The first week or so of my summer is usually spent sipping coffee, staring into space and reading books where stuff gets blown up. I am worthless because I am spent and every shred of everything I had to give is given. But as one teacher to another, you’re going to make this. If you’re a new teacher and you’ve never experienced this side of the “end of school” the jolting, nerve-wracking, exhausting, ridiculous side of “ending school” then it is okay. You will make it. it is one of the toughest most taxing things you’ll experience.

Then everyone in the world is jealous of teachers but they don’t understand that we’re hurting, exhausted and we’re often wounded by this time. You know, we don’t fault new moms for staying home six to eight weeks after having a child and not dads either anymore. They’re not getting time off and we aren’t either. When the summer starts, we’ve just come through something. To me, it’s as taxing and exhausting as childbirth. I may not feel as close to death as I did when I had my 10-pound baby girl who is now 6ft 1” and graduating. But in terms of wondering if you can do one more thing, it’s the same thing.

[00:06:00]  

                    So just know that you’re going to find yourself doing all kinds of things over the next six to eight weeks at the end of school. You may even find yourself in the dumpster or even worse the proverbial dumps. But hold on, you’re going to make it. Yell in the wind as it whips your hair flying by and enjoy it for what it is. Being noble, work hard, keep your commitment to excellence. It is never okay to go on auto-pilot. You know what, these kids can watch movies all summer, don’t give in the temptation to be sorry. You’ve still got things to do. Teach until the last day, find your beautiful moment every week.

You know what, teacher? You rock. And often, your nobility is observed and measured these last weeks when many of our peers slack off and head on to summer break early. Finish well. Do remarkable things. Be epic. Never settle. You know, we get one chance at this life and everything we do in the classroom is important especially how we start and we finish. Have fun with a purpose, be intentional about everything, Make memories. You know, these are hard times but they’re sweet times.

So as I emerged from playing in the trash yesterday, it was with a laugh and a high five and the joy at knowing that I showed love by my willingness to play in the trash. And that, my friends, is why you and I are here. The lessons we teach in our classrooms are important but the lessons we teach with our lives are never forgotten. And this is just another one of those lessons. The hope that if I share this little piece of myself and my own struggle that it will encourage you. We can do this, dear friends. I am so happy to be a teacher even if it’s hard.

[00:08:00]

                    So how do we make it to the end of the school year? Let’s pull each other forward, friends. We’re going to need each other in the coming days for we can’t expect the world out there to know what this is like but we should expect support, encouragement and a magnetic pull of excellence from our PLN and colleagues to finish this year in awesome ways. And remember this one essential point; the magic always happens outside your comfort zone. So of all the things you can do, don’t get comfortable. Get better and better and end in amazing ways.

You can either be memorable or you’re forgettable. And the same applies to what you teach. Live it. Be it. Be a noble. We’re in an important profession. Teach to the last day and let’s be remarkable.

Ending

Hello, remarkable teachers, I have a bi-weekly newsletter just for you. You’ll get lesson plans, ideas and lots of freebies I don’t share anywhere else. You can sign up by text message if you’re here in the United States by texting Coolcat to 444999 and you’ll be put on my email list. Now, if you’re not in the U.S. you can go to coolcatteacher.com/newsletter. Now, when you sign up, I have a super handout of my 200-plus favorite  Ed tech tools that you can download and start exploring.

  Thank you for listening to the Ten-minute Teacher Podcast. You can download the show notes and see the archive at coolcatteacher.com/podcast. Never stop learning.

  [End of Audio 0:09:59]

  [Transcription created by tranzify.com. Some additional editing has been done to add grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors. Every attempt has been made to correct spelling. For permissions, please email lisa@coolcatteacher.com]

  The post How to Make it to the End of the School Year appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/make-end-school-year/

[aira26soonas]

How to Make it to the End of the School Year

Episode 66 of the 10-Minute Teacher- An Audio Blog Post

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

Today I share a post I wrote several years ago that tends to be shared like crazy this time of year. I hope it encourages you to finish well. Here’s the link to the original blog post: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/ if you want to read it instead of listening to it.

Listen now

Listen to iTunes

Stream by clicking here

Download the PDF Transcript

 Transcript of How to Make it to the End of the School Year

I’ve included the transcript here today since I’m the one who did the show. Just keeping it simple. The link for the transcript still points here!

Go to the original blog post here: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/

[Recording starts 0:00:00]

Hello remarkable teachers, I’ll let you know at the end of the show how you can get my list of my 200 plus favorite Ed tech tools and sign up for my bi-weekly newsletter.

 It is my home to shine a light of encouragement on you with the 10 Minute Teacher. And I just wanted to give a shout out to some of you who’ve really encouraged me lately. So I got the loveliest letter from Erika Lewis. And Erika, this message is for you.

                    Imagine you driving to your special needs school and having a more positive mindset as you listen to the 10 Minute Teacher. That sweet email you sent me really does make my day and I forwarded it to my husband, Kip, who’s the producer and it really excited us. I know that it may sound silly but I really do appreciate the reviews and the kind remarks.

                    Also, some of the latest reviewers on iTunes I wanted to give you guys a shout out because there were also just some lovely reviews that you gave me. [Mark Eican, Bridgette McCaw, Kimberly Onick, Nicky Lee and Jay Biseren.] And I hope I pronounced your names correctly. But I really do read all the reviews and I appreciate it so much. Now, I’ve added a new feature for you. I’m going to start letting you know the episode number at the beginning of the show. And a lot of you have been liking the transcripts but you want an easier way to find them. So this is episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

                    And you have to give me about 10 hours to get the transcription all together because there’s a pretty quick lead time on that but you’ll be able to go to coolcatteacher.com/e66 for the full transcripts and a link to the show notes. And you’ll definitely want to check out those show notes because it has links to all kinds of things that we mentioned in the show. So I hope that is helpful for you. And now let’s get started with Episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

The Ten-minute Teacher podcast with Vicki Davis. Every weekday you’ll learn powerful practical ways to be a more remarkable teacher today.

Vicki:��          There’s a blog post I wrote three years ago that at the end of every school year it trends. So today, I’m going to turn this into a motivational Monday for all of you podcast listeners out there who may not have passed about the blog and seen this post. How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

Yesterday after school I earned my Dumpster Diver 101 Merit Badge. As a senior now, I went through the schools track looking for an unmarked photo CD that had been accidently tossed. They made out my sanity but they cannot doubt my love. After it was found I drove home quickly to take a hot bath. You know, I was reminded of a word I hadn’t used in ages, but we used it often in the 1980s, “grody.” I’m not even sure that’s a word. All the while, I started thinking about the crazy days these are. It is the end of the school year for us and you know April and May are just crazy. These are the days apt to be described by the first paragraph of a tale of two cities.

You know, right now I have three planning periods a week – not kidding. Plus Special Olympics Bocce Ball plus NHS blood drive, plus senior slide slow, plus graduation movie, plus bidding out pulling cable for the new building, plus the technology playing and budget for next year, plus tech support, plus my book launch for Reinventing Writing to coordinate, plus graduating me second child and getting her off to college – minus sanity. I say this because tens of thousands of you live this every day. This is your life too. You totally get this. You know, too bad nobody else does and don’t expect them to, either.

[00:04:00]

                    People pretty soon are you going to start casually saying, “Aren’t you glad things are winding down?” And you know they are among the clueless. There is nothing winding down about the end of the school year, it is more like a complete and total crash. You accelerate until you run into a brick wall and you hope your seat belt lets you get out of the thing intact so you can limp off into your summer.

The first week or so of my summer is usually spent sipping coffee, staring into space and reading books where stuff gets blown up. I am worthless because I am spent and every shred of everything I had to give is given. But as one teacher to another, you’re going to make this. If you’re a new teacher and you’ve never experienced this side of the “end of school” the jolting, nerve-wracking, exhausting, ridiculous side of “ending school” then it is okay. You will make it. it is one of the toughest most taxing things you’ll experience.

Then everyone in the world is jealous of teachers but they don’t understand that we’re hurting, exhausted and we’re often wounded by this time. You know, we don’t fault new moms for staying home six to eight weeks after having a child and not dads either anymore. They’re not getting time off and we aren’t either. When the summer starts, we’ve just come through something. To me, it’s as taxing and exhausting as childbirth. I may not feel as close to death as I did when I had my 10-pound baby girl who is now 6ft 1” and graduating. But in terms of wondering if you can do one more thing, it’s the same thing.

[00:06:00]  

                    So just know that you’re going to find yourself doing all kinds of things over the next six to eight weeks at the end of school. You may even find yourself in the dumpster or even worse the proverbial dumps. But hold on, you’re going to make it. Yell in the wind as it whips your hair flying by and enjoy it for what it is. Being noble, work hard, keep your commitment to excellence. It is never okay to go on auto-pilot. You know what, these kids can watch movies all summer, don’t give in the temptation to be sorry. You’ve still got things to do. Teach until the last day, find your beautiful moment every week.

You know what, teacher? You rock. And often, your nobility is observed and measured these last weeks when many of our peers slack off and head on to summer break early. Finish well. Do remarkable things. Be epic. Never settle. You know, we get one chance at this life and everything we do in the classroom is important especially how we start and we finish. Have fun with a purpose, be intentional about everything, Make memories. You know, these are hard times but they’re sweet times.

So as I emerged from playing in the trash yesterday, it was with a laugh and a high five and the joy at knowing that I showed love by my willingness to play in the trash. And that, my friends, is why you and I are here. The lessons we teach in our classrooms are important but the lessons we teach with our lives are never forgotten. And this is just another one of those lessons. The hope that if I share this little piece of myself and my own struggle that it will encourage you. We can do this, dear friends. I am so happy to be a teacher even if it’s hard.

[00:08:00]

                    So how do we make it to the end of the school year? Let’s pull each other forward, friends. We’re going to need each other in the coming days for we can’t expect the world out there to know what this is like but we should expect support, encouragement and a magnetic pull of excellence from our PLN and colleagues to finish this year in awesome ways. And remember this one essential point; the magic always happens outside your comfort zone. So of all the things you can do, don’t get comfortable. Get better and better and end in amazing ways.

You can either be memorable or you’re forgettable. And the same applies to what you teach. Live it. Be it. Be a noble. We’re in an important profession. Teach to the last day and let’s be remarkable.

Ending

Hello, remarkable teachers, I have a bi-weekly newsletter just for you. You’ll get lesson plans, ideas and lots of freebies I don’t share anywhere else. You can sign up by text message if you’re here in the United States by texting Coolcat to 444999 and you’ll be put on my email list. Now, if you’re not in the U.S. you can go to coolcatteacher.com/newsletter. Now, when you sign up, I have a super handout of my 200-plus favorite  Ed tech tools that you can download and start exploring.

  Thank you for listening to the Ten-minute Teacher Podcast. You can download the show notes and see the archive at coolcatteacher.com/podcast. Never stop learning.

  [End of Audio 0:09:59]

  [Transcription created by tranzify.com. Some additional editing has been done to add grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors. Every attempt has been made to correct spelling. For permissions, please email lisa@coolcatteacher.com]

  The post How to Make it to the End of the School Year appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/make-end-school-year/

[ralph31ortiz]

How to Make it to the End of the School Year

Episode 66 of the 10-Minute Teacher- An Audio Blog Post

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

Today I share a post I wrote several years ago that tends to be shared like crazy this time of year. I hope it encourages you to finish well. Here’s the link to the original blog post: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/ if you want to read it instead of listening to it.

Listen now

Listen to iTunes

Stream by clicking here

Download the PDF Transcript

 Transcript of How to Make it to the End of the School Year

I’ve included the transcript here today since I’m the one who did the show. Just keeping it simple. The link for the transcript still points here!

Go to the original blog post here: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/

[Recording starts 0:00:00]

Hello remarkable teachers, I’ll let you know at the end of the show how you can get my list of my 200 plus favorite Ed tech tools and sign up for my bi-weekly newsletter.

 It is my home to shine a light of encouragement on you with the 10 Minute Teacher. And I just wanted to give a shout out to some of you who’ve really encouraged me lately. So I got the loveliest letter from Erika Lewis. And Erika, this message is for you.

                    Imagine you driving to your special needs school and having a more positive mindset as you listen to the 10 Minute Teacher. That sweet email you sent me really does make my day and I forwarded it to my husband, Kip, who’s the producer and it really excited us. I know that it may sound silly but I really do appreciate the reviews and the kind remarks.

                    Also, some of the latest reviewers on iTunes I wanted to give you guys a shout out because there were also just some lovely reviews that you gave me. [Mark Eican, Bridgette McCaw, Kimberly Onick, Nicky Lee and Jay Biseren.] And I hope I pronounced your names correctly. But I really do read all the reviews and I appreciate it so much. Now, I’ve added a new feature for you. I’m going to start letting you know the episode number at the beginning of the show. And a lot of you have been liking the transcripts but you want an easier way to find them. So this is episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

                    And you have to give me about 10 hours to get the transcription all together because there’s a pretty quick lead time on that but you’ll be able to go to coolcatteacher.com/e66 for the full transcripts and a link to the show notes. And you’ll definitely want to check out those show notes because it has links to all kinds of things that we mentioned in the show. So I hope that is helpful for you. And now let’s get started with Episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

The Ten-minute Teacher podcast with Vicki Davis. Every weekday you’ll learn powerful practical ways to be a more remarkable teacher today.

Vicki:           There’s a blog post I wrote three years ago that at the end of every school year it trends. So today, I’m going to turn this into a motivational Monday for all of you podcast listeners out there who may not have passed about the blog and seen this post. How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

Yesterday after school I earned my Dumpster Diver 101 Merit Badge. As a senior now, I went through the schools track looking for an unmarked photo CD that had been accidently tossed. They made out my sanity but they cannot doubt my love. After it was found I drove home quickly to take a hot bath. You know, I was reminded of a word I hadn’t used in ages, but we used it often in the 1980s, “grody.” I’m not even sure that’s a word. All the while, I started thinking about the crazy days these are. It is the end of the school year for us and you know April and May are just crazy. These are the days apt to be described by the first paragraph of a tale of two cities.

You know, right now I have three planning periods a week – not kidding. Plus Special Olympics Bocce Ball plus NHS blood drive, plus senior slide slow, plus graduation movie, plus bidding out pulling cable for the new building, plus the technology playing and budget for next year, plus tech support, plus my book launch for Reinventing Writing to coordinate, plus graduating me second child and getting her off to college – minus sanity. I say this because tens of thousands of you live this every day. This is your life too. You totally get this. You know, too bad nobody else does and don’t expect them to, either.

[00:04:00]

                    People pretty soon are you going to start casually saying, “Aren’t you glad things are winding down?” And you know they are among the clueless. There is nothing winding down about the end of the school year, it is more like a complete and total crash. You accelerate until you run into a brick wall and you hope your seat belt lets you get out of the thing intact so you can limp off into your summer.

The first week or so of my summer is usually spent sipping coffee, staring into space and reading books where stuff gets blown up. I am worthless because I am spent and every shred of everything I had to give is given. But as one teacher to another, you’re going to make this. If you’re a new teacher and you’ve never experienced this side of the “end of school” the jolting, nerve-wracking, exhausting, ridiculous side of “ending school” then it is okay. You will make it. it is one of the toughest most taxing things you’ll experience.

Then everyone in the world is jealous of teachers but they don’t understand that we’re hurting, exhausted and we’re often wounded by this time. You know, we don’t fault new moms for staying home six to eight weeks after having a child and not dads either anymore. They’re not getting time off and we aren’t either. When the summer starts, we’ve just come through something. To me, it’s as taxing and exhausting as childbirth. I may not feel as close to death as I did when I had my 10-pound baby girl who is now 6ft 1” and graduating. But in terms of wondering if you can do one more thing, it’s the same thing.

[00:06:00]  

                    So just know that you’re going to find yourself doing all kinds of things over the next six to eight weeks at the end of school. You may even find yourself in the dumpster or even worse the proverbial dumps. But hold on, you’re going to make it. Yell in the wind as it whips your hair flying by and enjoy it for what it is. Being noble, work hard, keep your commitment to excellence. It is never okay to go on auto-pilot. You know what, these kids can watch movies all summer, don’t give in the temptation to be sorry. You’ve still got things to do. Teach until the last day, find your beautiful moment every week.

You know what, teacher? You rock. And often, your nobility is observed and measured these last weeks when many of our peers slack off and head on to summer break early. Finish well. Do remarkable things. Be epic. Never settle. You know, we get one chance at this life and everything we do in the classroom is important especially how we start and we finish. Have fun with a purpose, be intentional about everything, Make memories. You know, these are hard times but they’re sweet times.

So as I emerged from playing in the trash yesterday, it was with a laugh and a high five and the joy at knowing that I showed love by my willingness to play in the trash. And that, my friends, is why you and I are here. The lessons we teach in our classrooms are important but the lessons we teach with our lives are never forgotten. And this is just another one of those lessons. The hope that if I share this little piece of myself and my own struggle that it will encourage you. We can do this, dear friends. I am so happy to be a teacher even if it’s hard.

[00:08:00]

                    So how do we make it to the end of the school year? Let’s pull each other forward, friends. We’re going to need each other in the coming days for we can’t expect the world out there to know what this is like but we should expect support, encouragement and a magnetic pull of excellence from our PLN and colleagues to finish this year in awesome ways. And remember this one essential point; the magic always happens outside your comfort zone. So of all the things you can do, don’t get comfortable. Get better and better and end in amazing ways.

You can either be memorable or you’re forgettable. And the same applies to what you teach. Live it. Be it. Be a noble. We’re in an important profession. Teach to the last day and let’s be remarkable.

Ending

Hello, remarkable teachers, I have a bi-weekly newsletter just for you. You’ll get lesson plans, ideas and lots of freebies I don’t share anywhere else. You can sign up by text message if you’re here in the United States by texting Coolcat to 444999 and you’ll be put on my email list. Now, if you’re not in the U.S. you can go to coolcatteacher.com/newsletter. Now, when you sign up, I have a super handout of my 200-plus favorite  Ed tech tools that you can download and start exploring.

  Thank you for listening to the Ten-minute Teacher Podcast. You can download the show notes and see the archive at coolcatteacher.com/podcast. Never stop learning.

  [End of Audio 0:09:59]

  [Transcription created by tranzify.com. Some additional editing has been done to add grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors. Every attempt has been made to correct spelling. For permissions, please email lisa@coolcatteacher.com]

  The post How to Make it to the End of the School Year appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/make-end-school-year/

[patriciaanderson357-blog]

How to Make it to the End of the School Year

Episode 66 of the 10-Minute Teacher- An Audio Blog Post

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

Today I share a post I wrote several years ago that tends to be shared like crazy this time of year. I hope it encourages you to finish well. Here’s the link to the original blog post: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/ if you want to read it instead of listening to it.

Listen now

Listen to iTunes

Stream by clicking here

Download the PDF Transcript

 Transcript of How to Make it to the End of the School Year

I’ve included the transcript here today since I’m the one who did the show. Just keeping it simple. The link for the transcript still points here!

Go to the original blog post here: http://www.coolcatteacher.com/how-to-make-it-to-the-end-of-the-school-year/

[Recording starts 0:00:00]

Hello remarkable teachers, I’ll let you know at the end of the show how you can get my list of my 200 plus favorite Ed tech tools and sign up for my bi-weekly newsletter.

 It is my home to shine a light of encouragement on you with the 10 Minute Teacher. And I just wanted to give a shout out to some of you who’ve really encouraged me lately. So I got the loveliest letter from Erika Lewis. And Erika, this message is for you.

                    Imagine you driving to your special needs school and having a more positive mindset as you listen to the 10 Minute Teacher. That sweet email you sent me really does make my day and I forwarded it to my husband, Kip, who’s the producer and it really excited us. I know that it may sound silly but I really do appreciate the reviews and the kind remarks.

                    Also, some of the latest reviewers on iTunes I wanted to give you guys a shout out because there were also just some lovely reviews that you gave me. [Mark Eican, Bridgette McCaw, Kimberly Onick, Nicky Lee and Jay Biseren.] And I hope I pronounced your names correctly. But I really do read all the reviews and I appreciate it so much. Now, I’ve added a new feature for you. I’m going to start letting you know the episode number at the beginning of the show. And a lot of you have been liking the transcripts but you want an easier way to find them. So this is episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

                    And you have to give me about 10 hours to get the transcription all together because there’s a pretty quick lead time on that but you’ll be able to go to coolcatteacher.com/e66 for the full transcripts and a link to the show notes. And you’ll definitely want to check out those show notes because it has links to all kinds of things that we mentioned in the show. So I hope that is helpful for you. And now let’s get started with Episode 66; How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

The Ten-minute Teacher podcast with Vicki Davis. Every weekday you’ll learn powerful practical ways to be a more remarkable teacher today.

Vicki:           There’s a blog post I wrote three years ago that at the end of every school year it trends. So today, I’m going to turn this into a motivational Monday for all of you podcast listeners out there who may not have passed about the blog and seen this post. How to Make it To The End of The School Year.

Yesterday after school I earned my Dumpster Diver 101 Merit Badge. As a senior now, I went through the schools track looking for an unmarked photo CD that had been accidently tossed. They made out my sanity but they cannot doubt my love. After it was found I drove home quickly to take a hot bath. You know, I was reminded of a word I hadn’t used in ages, but we used it often in the 1980s, “grody.” I’m not even sure that’s a word. All the while, I started thinking about the crazy days these are. It is the end of the school year for us and you know April and May are just crazy. These are the days apt to be described by the first paragraph of a tale of two cities.

You know, right now I have three planning periods a week – not kidding. Plus Special Olympics Bocce Ball plus NHS blood drive, plus senior slide slow, plus graduation movie, plus bidding out pulling cable for the new building, plus the technology playing and budget for next year, plus tech support, plus my book launch for Reinventing Writing to coordinate, plus graduating me second child and getting her off to college – minus sanity. I say this because tens of thousands of you live this every day. This is your life too. You totally get this. You know, too bad nobody else does and don’t expect them to, either.

[00:04:00]

                    People pretty soon are you going to start casually saying, “Aren’t you glad things are winding down?” And you know they are among the clueless. There is nothing winding down about the end of the school year, it is more like a complete and total crash. You accelerate until you run into a brick wall and you hope your seat belt lets you get out of the thing intact so you can limp off into your summer.

The first week or so of my summer is usually spent sipping coffee, staring into space and reading books where stuff gets blown up. I am worthless because I am spent and every shred of everything I had to give is given. But as one teacher to another, you’re going to make this. If you’re a new teacher and you’ve never experienced this side of the “end of school” the jolting, nerve-wracking, exhausting, ridiculous side of “ending school” then it is okay. You will make it. it is one of the toughest most taxing things you’ll experience.

Then everyone in the world is jealous of teachers but they don’t understand that we’re hurting, exhausted and we’re often wounded by this time. You know, we don’t fault new moms for staying home six to eight weeks after having a child and not dads either anymore. They’re not getting time off and we aren’t either. When the summer starts, we’ve just come through something. To me, it’s as taxing and exhausting as childbirth. I may not feel as close to death as I did when I had my 10-pound baby girl who is now 6ft 1” and graduating. But in terms of wondering if you can do one more thing, it’s the same thing.

[00:06:00]  

                    So just know that you’re going to find yourself doing all kinds of things over the next six to eight weeks at the end of school. You may even find yourself in the dumpster or even worse the proverbial dumps. But hold on, you’re going to make it. Yell in the wind as it whips your hair flying by and enjoy it for what it is. Being noble, work hard, keep your commitment to excellence. It is never okay to go on auto-pilot. You know what, these kids can watch movies all summer, don’t give in the temptation to be sorry. You’ve still got things to do. Teach until the last day, find your beautiful moment every week.

You know what, teacher? You rock. And often, your nobility is observed and measured these last weeks when many of our peers slack off and head on to summer break early. Finish well. Do remarkable things. Be epic. Never settle. You know, we get one chance at this life and everything we do in the classroom is important especially how we start and we finish. Have fun with a purpose, be intentional about everything, Make memories. You know, these are hard times but they’re sweet times.

So as I emerged from playing in the trash yesterday, it was with a laugh and a high five and the joy at knowing that I showed love by my willingness to play in the trash. And that, my friends, is why you and I are here. The lessons we teach in our classrooms are important but the lessons we teach with our lives are never forgotten. And this is just another one of those lessons. The hope that if I share this little piece of myself and my own struggle that it will encourage you. We can do this, dear friends. I am so happy to be a teacher even if it’s hard.

[00:08:00]

                    So how do we make it to the end of the school year? Let’s pull each other forward, friends. We’re going to need each other in the coming days for we can’t expect the world out there to know what this is like but we should expect support, encouragement and a magnetic pull of excellence from our PLN and colleagues to finish this year in awesome ways. And remember this one essential point; the magic always happens outside your comfort zone. So of all the things you can do, don’t get comfortable. Get better and better and end in amazing ways.

You can either be memorable or you’re forgettable. And the same applies to what you teach. Live it. Be it. Be a noble. We’re in an important profession. Teach to the last day and let’s be remarkable.

Ending

Hello, remarkable teachers, I have a bi-weekly newsletter just for you. You’ll get lesson plans, ideas and lots of freebies I don’t share anywhere else. You can sign up by text message if you’re here in the United States by texting Coolcat to 444999 and you’ll be put on my email list. Now, if you’re not in the U.S. you can go to coolcatteacher.com/newsletter. Now, when you sign up, I have a super handout of my 200-plus favorite  Ed tech tools that you can download and start exploring.

  Thank you for listening to the Ten-minute Teacher Podcast. You can download the show notes and see the archive at coolcatteacher.com/podcast. Never stop learning.

  [End of Audio 0:09:59]

  [Transcription created by tranzify.com. Some additional editing has been done to add grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors. Every attempt has been made to correct spelling. For permissions, please email lisa@coolcatteacher.com]

  The post How to Make it to the End of the School Year appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!