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whentommymetalfie · 5 years

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The Right Track

A/N: Well here’s my first installment of an omegaverse AU, which at the moment is mainly focused on ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’. If you’d like a tiny bit of background for the AU before reading, check out this HC

Summary: Tommy has some news for Alfie, but struggles to tell him. And it doesn't help that Alfie is terribly distracted and doesn't seem to have time for him right now. But Tommy tries, still.

Pairing: Alfie x Tommy

Notes/warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mpreg, brief discussion about abortion

Wordcount: 4700

The Garrison is empty. And even though Tommy quite enjoys the bustle of a Friday evening when it’s full to the brim, this is a welcome respite. Especially considering the circumstances. One of the perks with working at the pub (besides the obvious fact that it’s the only real job related to the family business anyone will let him come within a ten mile radius of) is that there’s at least one place in the world that he’s got some kind of control over.

Today he’s exerted that control by flipping the sign to ‘closed’ and locking the door.

”You have to tell him at some point, you know.” Ada looks up from her whiskey. The second one she’s poured herself since he told her the news.

Tommy stirs his tea with a straw that he’s fished out from a box behind the bar, just to have something to occupy his hands with.

“I know. I’m just… trying to find the right moment.”

“He’ll notice on his own sooner or later, otherwise,” Ada points out. “He’s not the clueless kind of alpha.”

“I know.”

“And how are you going to explain it when you spend every morning hunched over the toilet when the morning sickness hits? There’s only so many times he’ll buy a hangover excuse-“

“Ada.”

She throws her hands up in defeat, but the wrinkle between her eyebrows remain as she gives him a thoughtful look.

“Are you thinking of getting rid of it?”

“No!” Tommy exclaims and his hand shoots up to cover his belly before he can even understand what is happening. He quickly drops it back onto his lap and tries to will down the heat rising to his cheeks.

“It’s your body, Tommy, and if you feel that you’re not ready, no one can tell you what to do with it,” Ada says, sounding like a politician who’s about to give a well- practiced speech “There’s nothing wrong-“

“Ada, please, not now,” Tommy says and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Save it for those fucking rallies.”

Ada harrumphs loudly.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to participate in those fucking rallies, it’s about your rights.

Tommy snorts. “Well then it’s also my right not to go and watch you ramble about shit you have no actual experience with. Stick to riling up the other alphas down in the factories.”

“Gender and class is linked. And me being an alpha doesn’t mean that I can’t-“

Tommy waves his hand dismissively, humming around the edge of his teacup in an attempt to stop this before it becomes a lecture. Any other day Ada would’ve been hurt, but he seems to get a free pass today due to the circumstances, so she just pushes herself off the bar disk to pace in front of it while Tommy buys himself some time and finishes his tea.

Once the cup is empty, he stares down at the tealeaves.

“I do want the baby,” he says after a long silence. “And I’m going to tell Alfie. It’s just that I-“

He cuts himself off because he can’t bring himself to say that last part –‘I want it to be special’. Because it sounds so stupid. Like he’s some wide eyed little thing who’s at home hanging fucking lacy curtains in the kitchen window, baking and waiting for their spouse to come home. But truth is he wants it to be special. He wanted to tell Alfie the second he suspected he might be pregnant. But then he waited, just to make sure. And once he was utterly sure -after a long conversation with Grace on the matter that he’d rather forget- it felt strange to simply… go home and tell Alfie. And the longer he’s waited, the more doubts have begun appearing, sinking their claws into his head and refusing to let go. What if Alfie doesn’t want a baby, when it really comes down to it? It’s so easy to just talk: Paint a pretty picture of what it’d be like, having a baby, start a family all of their own. ‘Maybe they’d have your eyes love? Imagine that!’

It's easy to talk. Now it’s suddenly reality.

Then he feels guilty.

This is Alfie. His Alfie. Tommy should have more faith in him. And Alfie was the one who brought up the idea of children in the first place, so why on earth wouldn’t he be thrilled about it? Logically, Tommy knows all this. He only needs to get all the anxious thoughts to listen.

“I’ll tell him,” he says to Ada, realising he’s been quiet for far too long. He fidgets with the edge of the straw. “Tonight.”

Ada’s scent, sage and leather-bound books, surrounds him. Then there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you, Tom. For both of you.”

She’s smiling. He can tell, even though he’s staring down at the bark disk. And he feels right then, that he’s happy too. A bubbling, sparkling kind of happiness that manages to drown out all the worry.

….

Turns out that once he’s made up his mind, he can’t possibly wait until tonight. So he goes to the brewery down by the docks to search out Alfie in his office, with renewed courage and a new lightness in his chest. Alfie will be happy. Thrilled, even.

“Afternoon, Thomas,” Eli greets him by the entrance with a smile and a polite nod. “The boss is in his office. Can you find the way yourself or do you want someone to accompany you?”

Tommy only rewards the question with a raised eyebrow, so Eli shrugs, continuing to smile politely and gestures for him to enter.

He ignores the curious stares from the various alphas milling about in the brewery, and quickly makes is way on towards the center of the building. He opens the door without knocking.

Alfie is sitting by his desk, hunched over a pile of papers and his heart, as always, skips a beat. He glances up when Tommy enters.

“You know I don’t like it when you wander around here on your own,” he grunts. “We’ve been over that. Not safe enough, these parts. Not yet, at least.”

Any other day, Tommy would simply roll his eyes at this. But now his stomach just clenches with worry. Alfie flips through a pile of papers. And Tommy finds himself just standing there, full of a strange new uncertainty. But then Alfie glances up and smiles a little.

“Sorry, sweetheart, that’s no way to greet the love of one’s life now, is it?” He gets up from his chair with some difficulty and beckons Tommy closer with a wave. “As well as husband and cherished mate. Go on, come here and give us a kiss.”

Tommy walks up to him, calmed by his mate’s scent the second it envelops him and allows Alfie to pull him in for a chaste kiss. Tea, pine needles and freshly baked bread. Home. Alfie lets go quicker than he would’ve liked and seats himself behind the desk again.

“So, any particular reason I’m blessed with your fair visage, or did you just miss me?” he asks, turning his attention back to the documents.

Tommy tries to gather back his resolve. But something just feels… wrong now.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, feeling stupid the second he utters the words. Alfie only hums in acknowledgement, forehead creased and eyes fastened on the numbers in front of him. Tommy decides that it’s better to just have it over and done with, to hell with the consequences, takes a deep breath and-

And that’s when Alfie’s phone rings.

He answers and gestures for Tommy to sit in the leather armchair by the bookshelf, his usual spot when spending time in Alfie’s office. Tommy doesn’t sit, instead he walks over to the window and looks out at the docks, trying to focus all his attention on what is happening outside. One of the barges have just docked, and large crates are being hauled from the deck, up onto land. A woman on a black horse rides past, and the horse shies away when a crate lands heavily on the cobbled street. Tommy watches the animal with undivided interest and tires to focus on that instead of his thundering heart.

Behind him, Alfie is speaking rapidly to someone in Yiddish. The horse and the woman disappears around a corner.

“Sorry, love, but I have some work to get to,” Alfie says and it takes a moment for Tommy to realise he’s speaking to him. He turns to watch Alfie rise from the desk and walk over to the hangers by the door, shrugging into his coat. He perches his hat on top of his head and grips his cane. “Shit that can’t wait, apparently. And the quicker I get to it, the quicker I can pay undivided attention to you.”

“Alright,” Tommy says, and hates how small his voice sounds. And he fucking hates the way his throat feels all tight.

Gently ushering him out the door, Alfie starts barking orders to someone at the opposite side of the brewery as he leads Tommy towards the exit.

“So, where should we drop you off, love?” He asks as they step out onto the street and waves for the driver to pull up.

Tommy shakes his head. “I’ll walk.”

Alfie furrows his brow, looking less than pleased. He scans the docks. Squints up at the sun, still quite a bit above the horizon. “Fine. But don’t let your aunt know. She thinks I’m being sloppy with your safety already. Fuckin’ell as if you’re not a grown, fully capable adult. And on top of that, I think that I’m in fact very thorough with everything where your well-being is concerned. Offensive, is what it is-“

The car rolls up beside them. Alfie’s two employees wait for him to get in and he gives Tommy a final, questioning look. Tommy shakes his head again.

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight, pet,” Alfie says and kisses his cheek, but his eyes are drifting. “I should be home in time for dinner. I’ll make you something nice, alright? To make up for this.”

Then he climbs into the front seat of the car, the two men get in the back, and soon, Tommy is alone on the street outside the brewery. All the bubbling happiness from before has died down to a small pitiful lump at the pit of his stomach.

He doesn’t go to the stables. Or the Garrison. Being around other people feels like an unbearable thought, and Grace is already covering for him. So instead he just goes home. The walk helps a little to clear his head. Alfie is just busy: things are always hectic right before a shipment, and Tommy’s got no fucking right to sulk about it. Still, it’s hard to completely rid himself of the unease. And he decides that he still needs to tell Alfie today, because the longer he’s alone with this, the louder all the anxious thoughts become.

Once he gets home, he decides that he’ll take care of the cooking, for once.

Tommy fucking hates to cook. It’s the principle of the thing: the utter unfairness that he was the only one of his siblings expected to spend time in the kitchen. Because it’s not an alphas job to cook, so why would any of them have to learn it? But that doesn’t mean that he can’t cook. And since Alfie never expects him to, and gladly takes care of both that and the dishes as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Tommy doesn’t mind it so much anymore. So he cooks.

He picks carefully among Alfie’s recipes and chooses one of his favorites.

The unease does simmer down as he stands there carefully slicing carrots into even pieces. Alfie is more appreciative of the rare instances when he cooks than Tommy deserves, and the thought of making him happy loosens the knot in his stomach.

He sets the table, takes care of the dishes and wipes down all the surfaces in the kitchen until it’s spotless. Glances at the clock. Alfie should be home soon. A bit of the earlier excitement is back; He can imagine what he’ll look like when he tells him, how happy he’ll be, how his eyes will light up. Maybe he’ll give Tommy one of those adoring looks, as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. When Alfie looks at him like that, Tommy can almost believe him.

He has time to wash up before dinner, so he does that too. Wants to smell nice for Alfie, wants to look good for him- While he does he practices quietly to say those words, to make sure he’s prepared. I’m pregnant. It feels strange and frightening but somehow wonderful all at the same time in an overwhelming cocktail. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Runs a hand over his stomach, which is still completely flat. Tries to imagine how it’ll look, how it’ll feel once the baby is a bit bigger, but it’s difficult because it’s so utterly surreal. Still, there’s an ounce of excitement at the idea. Not that he cares looking into where the excitement comes from, but it’s definitely there.

Back in the kitchen, he tastes the soup and decides that it’s alright. Good, even. He’ll never be quite as good as Alfie at cooking, simply because he doesn’t care enough, but it’s easy, following a recipe. And he wants it to be good. To make Alfie happy. He glances at the clock on the wall.

Alfie is a little late.

Tommy wipes down the counter again, even though it’s already clean. After some thought he lights a candle on the table.

He stirs the soup and lowers the heat on the stove a little.

Then he sits down by the table and waits. Tries to not imagine all the things that could be keeping Alfie from coming home…

It’s dark outside when the worry becomes too much to handle and he calls the office. Ollie picks up. But no, nothing has happened. He’d be the first to know if the meeting had gone wrong.

“Fucking Italians, always drag these things out. But that’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be home any minute now.”

Tommy hangs up and returns to the table.

He fidgets with a napkin, pulling at the threads. Tries to avoid looking at the clock.

When the darkness outside has turned from dusky gray to pitch black and Alfie still hasn’t come home, he quietly blows out what is left of the candle, puts the dishes back in their cupboards and goes upstairs.

He undresses, carefully putting all the garments on the appropriate hangers. Puts on his nightshirt, one of Alfie’s old flannel shirts. Then he crawls into bed and curls up on his side, staring at the opposite wall, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

This is what it’ll be like. This is what you signed up for. You’ll be here, all alone with the baby, pacing back and forth and waiting for Alfie to come home. Is this the life you wanted?

For a long moment that seems to stretch into an eternity he thinks about how it’s not too late yet -he hasn’t told Alfie. He could still-

Keys rattle in the multiple locks on the front door.

Then, Alfie’s steps come up the stairs, and the bedroom door creaks open. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. The mattress dips behind him.

“Tommy?” Alfie’s voice is soft and his scent makes Tommy’s throat close up.

He swallows. It’s a lost battle, pretending to be asleep. Alfie always knows.

So he makes a noise, a quiet sort of hum.

“You’d made dinner.”

The tears are burning behind his closed eyelids now, and he tries to force down that lump in his throat before making another hum. Tries to sound at ease.

“I’m so sorry I was late, the meeting dragged on. I should’ve called you.”

“It’s fine.” Tommy whispers. He bites his tongue and wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Fuck this is pathetic. There’s something so deeply humiliating about the whole thing; about putting fucking effort in, about falling into some old stereotype he swore he’d never become-

“No, no it’s not fine. Fucking unacceptable is what it is.” Alfie’s fingers scratch gently in the nape of his neck. “You’d made everything so nice. And I know you hate cooking-“ Tommy can hear the little smile in his voice. He wants to say that he doesn’t hate cooking, he’ll do it for Alfie, he’ll do anything as long as he promises not to leave. And he fucking hates that instinct.

The distress is rolling off him in waves now, seeping out of his pores and wilting the floral scent that he’s loathed all his life. Up until the very moment he met Alfie.

Tommy curls further into his protective ball when Alfie lies down behind him and pulls him close.

“I’m sorry,” Alfie repeats and presses a kiss in the nape of his neck.

But he can’t answer, because if he focuses on anything other than gritting his teeth together, he’ll begin to cry. As if this whole thing hasn’t been humiliating enough already.

Alfie is patient. He’s always been, when it comes to this. So he’s quiet for a long while.

“Well, the meeting couldn’t have gone worse,” he sighs, suddenly. Tommy keeps biting his tongue. “Fucking… Sabini. Absolutely impossible to have anything to do with. I’ll have a fucking Italian uproar on the rise back in London after this.”

It piques Tommy’s interest. Always does. It’s just the way his brain works -give it a few pieces and it’ll instantly begin laying a puzzle with them, whether he likes it or not. It distracts him enough for the lump to sink down a little.

“Thought Sabini refused to go to Birmingham for meetings?” he asks and manages to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“He does. Arrogant piece of shit. Sent some of his goons. The slightly less idiotic ones. Mostly to let me know that with his man in New York wanting a bigger cut, he’ll only pay me fuckin half of his usual prize for the product. Un-fucking-believable. That's what I get for delivering him high quality rum...”

“You could start exporting it yourself. Cut the middle man.” He pauses, waits for an interruption that never comes, and then adds: “Vincent Changretta’s got a son in New York who imports liquor.”

“He does?”

Tommy hums. “Luca Changretta. His father likes me. I could probably get you in contact with him.”

He pictures Vicente Changretta, seated by the café table down by Highbury Park, cigar in hand and a glass of wine in the other, beckoning him over with a wave. Sweetheart, why don’t you come and sit here for a bit? Keep an old man company? Tommy does sometimes, because having a good relationship with the Italians could be useful, even though aunt Pol would definitely disapprove if she knew he was meddling in the business. And Vicente is nice enough for an aging alpha; always offers him a drink in the most polite way, and when Tommy listens to his many stories of ‘the old country’, he occasionally pats his hand gently in a grandfatherly manner that Tommy finds strangely endearing and only mildly annoying for some reason.

“And then I tell Sabini that unless he decides to pay up, he’ll be out of the whole operation?”

“Mhm.”

Alfie is quiet. Then he leans over Tommy’s shoulder and kisses him square on the mouth, resting all his weight on his elbow as he grins at him.

“You’re fucking brilliant. You and your mind. Always working a hundred miles an hour, innit?”

A jolt of happiness flips at the pit of his stomach. It’s not like this is a particularly brilliant plan or even a hard situation to solve, but still, he’s not used to this kind of approval of his ideas.

“Not very hard to figure out,” he says and allows himself a faint smile. Alfie raises both eyebrows.

“You calling me stupid, love?”

“Maybe a little.”

Snorting with indignation, Alfie settles back onto the mattress and pulls him closer to his chest. He is quiet for a little bit, running a hand up and down his side, fingers featherlight over the fabric of his nightshirt.

“Sabini’s gonna be fuckin pissed,” he says. “Could end in with all sorts of violence if we’re not careful, that.”

“Depends on how you put it. Set up the meeting in London. Be polite about it, and bring a gift. Sabini likes that. Gestures and so on. ”

Alfie hums and says with genuine confusion, “Fuck, why didn’t I think of… any of this?”

“Because your solution is often to just tell people to go fuck themselves in the most obnoxious way possible.”

Alfie sits up and rolls him over onto his back, pinning him down with what is probably supposed to be a stern look but which most of all comes off as very fond. “Oh, you take that back right now.”

Tommy feels a smirk tug at his lips. “It’s true.”

Alfie huffs. Then, he runs a finger thoughtfully down the side of his face, adding: “Well, to be fair I’ve never claimed to be the more intelligent out of the two of us. So your help is very much appreciated. Maybe you can talk me through what to say beforehand?

“Sure,” Tommy promises. “I’ll write you a list of things to say.”

Alfie smiles down at him. “What have I done to deserve you, eh? All my sins must’ve been overlooked, right, for me to end up with an omega who is not only so beautiful that my fucking lifespan increases with ten years every time I look at him, but who is also the most intelligent-

“Stop-” Heat rises to Tommy’s cheeks and he tries to look away but Alfie grabs his chin.

“The most intelligent, witty,not to mention most beautifulomega in England.” His’s smile seems to widen with every shade of red Tommy’s cheeks darkens. “Sometimes I just think to myself, alright, I sit, and I think and ponder over how lucky I am-“ He needs to tell him. Tommy feels it in his gut right then. If he doesn’t tell him now, he’ll never muster up the courage- “And it’s a true blessing, innit, that your aunt decided to drag you along to my bakery.” Just open your mouth and say it. It’s not that fucking hard.He tries to phrase it: there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.

No, not like that-

“Alfie-“

“And I really should thank her more often,” Alfie goes on. “Because what would my life even be without you in it-“

“Alfie-“ No matter how he tries he can’t seem to find the right words, and Alfie just keeps talking.

“It would be miserable, I tell you, miserable. And I really need to be more appreciative of you-“

Just tell him-

“I’m pregnant.” The words come out too quickly, not wrapped up all neatly like they were supposed to and the silence that hits the room feels like a fucking punch to the gut. Alfie stares down at him, mouth still half open, caught in the middle of a word.

“What?”

Tommy sits up. Tries to breathe and swallow down the panic.

“I’m pregnant,” he repeats. And suddenly the lump in his throat is back, because Alfie just stares at him. “I-I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn’t know how to and- and then you were busy-“

Alfie grabs him by the shoulders. Hard. “Are you sure? Completely, absolutely fucking sure?”

Tommy only manages to nod, overwhelmed by a sudden and unfamiliar urge to cry. Curl up into a ball and hide because Alfie doesn’t want the baby. Maybe it’s him? Maybe Alfie just doesn’t want a baby with Tommy of all people-

Alfie only stares at him for another excruciatingly long moment. But then his eyes well with tears and he blinks. And he smiles, a wide, toothy grin that just lights up his entire face.

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

Happy. Alfie is happy. Finally the realization sinks in, and the relief is so overwhelming that all strength seems to drain from his limbs.

He nods. And suddenly he finds himself being dragged into a tight hug. Alfie pulls him into his lap and crushes him against his chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His breathing comes in erratic little bursts, and he holds Tommy so tightly that breathing soon will become an issue. Tommy doesn’t mind in the least. He wraps his arms around Alfie’s neck.

“You’re happy?”

Alfie pulls away a little and cradles his face between his hands. “Course I’m fucking happy! Fuckin’ell I couldn’t be happier, silly boy.”

“Don’t cry,” Tommy mumbles and wipes at the tears trickling down his cheeks. He lets out a shaky laugh: “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

But it’s a lost cause because he’s already fucking crying. It’s the hormones. He blames this whole thing on those.

“No I’m going to fucking cry, alright, it’s my God given right to cry when I find out that the man I love is carrying my child,” Alfie exclaims and beams at him. He moves back a little, creating space between them so that he can place a hand on Tommy’s belly. “Right here, love. Isn’t that just fucking amazing?”

Tommy leans forward and kisses his nose.

Alfie just keeps smiling down at his belly with this dreamy, almost goofy smile and Tommy savors the moment. Then he suddenly looks up at Tommy with wide eyes. “You haven’t eaten anything!”

Tommy is tempted to ask how he knows that, but Alfie has probably put two and two together so there’s no use denying it.

“Now, you just stay right there, don’t move a fucking inch.” Alfie is already gathering up all the pillows, settling Tommy with his back against them. “I’ll be right up with something to eat. And maybe some… blankets? Yeah we definitely need more of those. Blankets and-”

Still listing things to himself under his breath, Alfie disappears out the door.

Tommy is tempted to call after him that he’s barely two months along, and if Alfie’s going to be like this for the rest of the pregnancy it’s going to become unbearable. But he doesn’t. Instead he just sits there and waits. And occupies himself with arranging and then rearranging the pillows. Tries different options before settling for having them behind his back and by his sides in a comfortable little half circle that somehow just feels… right.

Alfie soon returns with two bowls of the soup he cooked earlier precariously balanced on a tray and with several blankets under his arms. When Tommy moves to take the tray before an accident occurs Alfie protests so loudly that he’s got no choice but to stay put for fear of actually causing the soup to end up spilled all over the bed. Once the tray has been safely set down on the nightstand, Alfie takes the blankets and spreads them out over him, and Tommy lets him fuss with them until they’re all in acceptable positions, because Alfie looks so incredibly pleased once he’s tucked him in.

“Remember that you’re eating for two,” he says when he hands him the bowl.

“Can’t wait to hear that for the next seven months,” Tommy mutters but begins to eat, still, as Alfie settles next to him on the bed.

“Oh you’ll hear a whole lot more than that, love. Like… don’t lift that heavy box. Maybe you should sit down for a while? Do you want me to rub your ankles?“ Alfie grins. “I can’t wait to dote on you.”

Tommy huffs.

“You already do.”

“But it’ll be on a whole other level now,” Alfie says. Runs his thumb down Tommy’s cheek. “Gonna treat you and this baby like royalty. Anything you want, you’ll have.”

“I already have everything I want.” The words come to mind easily. And it’s not until he sees the look on Alfie’s face that he realises he said them out loud. But he doesn’t mind so much. It’s true. Especially when Alfie leans in and kisses him.

#alfie x tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #omegaverse AU #mpreg #omega!tommy #alpha!alfie

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cooperhewitt · 5 years

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Forming Meaning Through Our Most Personal Sense

Forming Meaning Through Our Most Personal Sense: Explorations on Global Accessibility Awareness Day

“Body as home, but only if it is understood that place, and community, and culture burrow deep into our bones”

–Eli Clare, Exile and Pride

The senses move us through space

Deaf mythology tells the story of planet Eyeth. Here, visual-based communication is celebrated, doorbells ring through light, and hearing people now represent a minority. While Earth may present as an audio-oriented world in name, sight experiences are often privileged as the primary mode of meaning making. The story of Eyeth exists as a cultural celebration of Deafness and as an invitation to take this moment to consider the world around us and the barriers which were, at some point in history, designed. [1] Loudspeaker announcements in an airport, a phone call, a doorbell, a smoke detector—how might these tools for communicating essential information be designed with more users in mind?

Designers create built environments, products, and interactions that influence our engagement with the world around us—from the technology and clothing we use to the buildings, systems, and cities with which we engage. Historically, design often takes an ocularcentric approach, favoring a visual aesthetic experience, ignoring opportunities to connect through other modes. When design embraces our desires to engage through touch, sound, and smell, greater opportunities develop that activate inherent curiosity and support broader diversity. [2] By considering multisensory interactions, designers harness the potential to expand beyond limitations inherent to visual-based design. Inevitably, this can lead to more impactful and compelling innovation.

Understanding the personal

The Social Research Centre’s 2009 The Smell Report describes that the “perception of smell consists not only of the sensation of the odours themselves but of the experiences and emotions associated with these sensations.” [3] Our interpretations of sensory interaction is deeply personal. What does home smell like? What does happiness smell like? Each of us has experiences linking our senses with emotion and memory.

We also know that sensory abilities change over the course of a lifetime. Learn more about how we think about the evolving way we engage with our senses through Microsoft’s persona spectrum. [4]

For Global Accessibility Awareness Day, Cooper Hewitt is partnering with Tealeaves and Microsoft to consider these questions, in collaboration with artists from LAND Gallery and YAI ARTS.

LAND Gallery, founded in 2005 by the League Education and Treatment Center (LETC), is a day habilitation program for adult artists with developmental disabilities. LAND nurtures the talent of participating artists, while integrating individuals into the community as professionals. LETC is a 501(c)(3) non-profit and internationally recognized agency for evaluation, treatment, and education of children and adults with disabilities. YAI ARTS is an arts program that provides the opportunity for adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities to advance their creative voices and become working artists. During a workshop at the museum, participants will explore topics of memory, scent, and design.

Fostering connection

The need to connect is an inherently human experience. Understanding forms through the combination of sensory input coupled with our personal interpretation—allowing us to navigate and build connections. We then employ language to communicate about our direct experiences to orient and relate with others.

In 2011, McCann Worldgroup conducted a quantitative study of 7000 16–30 year olds. Their findings revealed that 53% of individuals would rather give up their sense of smell than their smartphones. At their core, both of these tools are essential in helping us form meaning and build connections. A gas leak, spoiled milk—we connect imperative information through our smell experiences. A trendy perfume, pine during the holidays—we also form social connections around our cultures, environments, and habits through smell. While we recognize the role of technology in generating information and social connections, this statistic presents a moment to consider the power of smell in our daily lives.

At the museum, we also consider how connections are formed. The stories we tell link objects to one another, the questions we ask ignite discussion, and the interactions we design all aim to create opportunities for building connections. On Global Accessibility Awareness Day, we are also considering how visitors might engage in our galleries through scent. We are creating an interaction card that pairs a scent with an object from Cooper Hewitt with the goal of fostering a deeper connection between visitors and the museum and its works on display.

Landscape No. 1 is an RGB (red, green, blue) wallpaper designed and printed by Carnovsky. Installed to create an immersive environment, the imagery on the paper changes based on the color of light that the piece is viewed in. By creating a customized scent evocative of the subjects in the wallcovering, the object is activated through more than just close-looking. Now, visitors can imagine themselves within the landscape or wooded forest—a transporting experience that impacts their interaction with the wallpaper. Asking visitors to engage with work at the museum in multisensory modes, we leverage the power of scent and memory to create more meaningful object-based experiences and deeper connections.

Reference

[1] H-Dirksen L. Bauman, Jennifer L. Nelson, and Heidi M. Rose. Signing the Body Poetic: Essays on American Sign Language Literature. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).

[2] Ellen Lupton and Andrea Lipps, “Why Sensory Design” (April 3, 2018), https://www.cooperhewitt.org/2018/04/03/why-sensory-design/

[3] Kate Fox, “The Smell Report: An Overview of Facts and Findings” (Social Issues Research Centre, 2009), http://www.sirc.org/publik/smell.pdf

[4] Margaret Price, Principle Design Strategist speaks on the role of aroma at Microsoft. “Making Sense of Scents”, Medium, (March 21, 2019) https://medium.com/microsoft-design/making-sense-of-scents-9ef7b7537061

from Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum http://bit.ly/2PxnSdV via IFTTT

#cooper hewitt #design conversations

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sapphictealeaf · 7 months

Text

Dear Creator,

I hope you’re doing well in this merry femslash time! My name is Eli (my AO3 is: sapphictealeaf). My DNWs are already listed in the optional details on AO3, but I’ll take the time to repeat them here as well as specify what I mean by “extremely dark topics/storylines” in case clarification is needed!

The rest of the letter will be below this "keep reading" line!

DNW

Explicit smut (implied is fine)

Non-canon character death (unless it’s temporary/faked)

Tragic endings

Cheating between main pairing

Extremely dark topics/storylines

First & second-person POVs

Mostly the “dark topics” are about things such as abuse, rape, incest, overly graphic violence (especially if it’s not canon-typical) and the like. I like angst, I may even like some extra angst on occasion, but I prefer the internal turmoil and difficult hurdles (emotional, interpersonal, societal, etc.) over grimdark vibes.

General likes

Introspection and character study-esque scenes/themes

Love confessions

Pining

Trans interpretations and autistic interpretations of a character (or both) within the pairing (I don’t necessarily want the interpretations to be explicitly spoken about, but that there is an underlying thought of the characters being trans and/or autistic)

I am absolutely a sucker for hurt/comfort.

I often prefer canon-compliant fics, or canon divergent at the most.

Obviously, I absolutely understand that all of the things except for my DNWs are entirely optional, and ultimately I think that anything you write that you’re proud of will be better than trying to fulfil prompts that you don’t feel comfortable with/don’t like all that much. I list them in case you want inspiration or feel interested in taking my likes into consideration. This is a gift, and as long as it’s made with care I’m sure I will love it!

For the rest of this letter, I am going to write out more specific likes and headcanons for each ship in my sign-up. Just like the rest, this is obviously optional, but in case you want some ideas! May your writing journey proceed smoothly and I'll look forward to see what beautiful story you'll put forward!

CRITICAL ROLE

Beau/Yasha

I’ve always had a penchant for fics that have Beau expressing frustration and anger towards the Stormlord, especially post C2E69. I always felt that they had just come to terms with the idea that there may be feelings blossoming between them, so to have that suddenly snatched away, especially with the looming fear that Yasha may have been lying all this time, feels particularly juicy. Asking why the Stormlord didn’t protect her, cursing him for letting her near the party, begging him to help save her, anything at all that Beau feels will help her process the hurt and grief she feels.

I’m not entirely caught up on C3, but I am also wayyy past caring for spoilers at this point, so I’m very interested in any fics about Yasha worrying about Beau when she goes missing. I’m not sure exactly what the context is, where she is, what happened to her (and Caleb), or if it has been resolved since I last heard of it, but either way I’d love a worried Yasha searching for her wife, especially if it ends in joyful tears.

I have a penchant for Empire Kids, so if there’s any room for that, that would be super cool. I also adore the tenderness whenever Yasha and Jester interact, so those are also always a plus!!

Beau/Jester

I love a pining Beau, especially considering that it seems that everyone always pines for Jester, so it only makes sense. This makes the most sense to me during the very early C2 era.

LATE NIGHT TALKS! ONLY ONE BED! I think capitalising on the fact that the two of them would share a room when sleeping at a tavern or inn or suchlike is a beautiful thing.

When reading Beau/Jester fics that are exclusively Beau/Jes I have a certain draw to lesbian Jester who’s never particularly felt strongly for anyone before, but realising that her attraction to Fjord is very performative, while with Beau it feels a lot more natural, or something to that effect.

However, on that note, I always prefer to either keep Fjord out of it or just make it pre-Fjorester. My man did nothing wrong, he’s just a bit silly!!!! I prefer to have no break-ups between them unless it’s very mutual and minimally painful.

Beau/Jester/Yasha

There are so many possible ways to write this lovely throuple, but one option I like is Beau and Yasha falling for Jester together, slowly, but deeply.

Another option is Beau and Jester falling in love and coming together during Yasha’s absence in E69-E86, but then pulling her in once she returns. I’ve always found that idea fun to play around with, especially when Beau clearly had feelings for Yasha throughout the entire campaign basically, even if it may have cooled off periodically, but then confesses to Nott that she has a crush on Jester.

One thing I really like is how gentle and kind and warm Jester always is with Yasha, especially because Yasha herself is also such a gentle and kind person. As a contrast she is entirely and completely comfortable with Beau to the point where it feels like she feels much more free to not be at her best. She puts up a front of always being happy, always being much more knowledgeable about the world (despite her sheltered upbringing) than she actually is. I think both of those aspects are beautiful and can be beautifully utilised when exploring the relationship all three of them form with each other.

For this, I don’t mind Jester still being with Fjord, so long as it’s clear that the open nature of their relationship has been established and communicated.

STRANGER THINGS

Barbara/Nancy

For them, I am particularly drawn to Nancy’s POV, anything introspective works especially well here. Especially after Barb’s disappearance and after her death has been confirmed. I think the guilt, the wish for things to be different, the hindsight realisation is SO JUICY. Especially for a character who always keeps herself so composed in front of everyone else.

I do also like the idea of Nancy saving Barb, even if it’s just a fantasy of Nancy’s. This can be used and interpreted very freely. Does she save her as in leaving when Barbara asked her to? As in seeing her in the pool and helping her before she gets dragged into the Upside Down? As in El finding her alive and being saved at the same time as Will? Or when Nancy and Jonathan stumble into the Upside Down?

I also like any sort of Barb Lives AU where she is part of the following seasons.

I think that I just love deep contemplation and careful love confessions for them in general.

Eleven/Max

Any point from S2 finale and onwards is good here, although especially S3 sleepover vibes. Love confessions in a dark bedroom, secret girlhood, a space only for the two of them. I mean, it just writes itself!

I have to add Eleven saving Max from being Vecna’d during the S4 finale, perhaps by defeating Vecna before he’s able to kill Max.

Mike in this case can either be ignored where I’m concerned, or that it’s expanded upon and discussed with El and him breaking up because they have different goals and different struggles or something along those lines. Or a bit of canon non-compliance where they broke up ages ago or they were only ever friends. Whatever your heart desires, really, I don’t mind either way!

Oh, one last thing, I’ve always loved the autistic El headcanon I see a lot of people have (myself included). So, if you feel like that’s something you’re interested in incorporating then go ahead!!!

Robin/Nancy

I really, really like post-canon fics for Robin and Nancy. I feel like Nancy is at a point in her character arc and as a person where she needs to be on her own for a while, figure out who she is, pursue her ambitions with nothing and no one holding her back. So, the idea of Nancy and Robin having a chance meeting 5-10 years later or returning to Hawkins for a little reunion is just so lovely. (If they return to Hawkins, this could either be Uh Oh Shit’s Getting Weird Again or just everyone coming home for the sake of reuniting, maybe it’s Thanksgiving or something like that.)

I also think that, while Robin and Nancy would Obviously be the focus, it would be interesting to explore Nancy realising that the feelings she has for Robin are very similar to feelings she once had for Barb. Especially if she suddenly realises that they’re also a bit similar to what she felt for Steve and Jonathan (uh-oh) A.K.A. bisexual panic for Nancy.

STAR TREK

Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys

This is one of the few ships where I vividly see an AU, which is PIRATE AU!!! Particularly with both of them as captains of their own ships. I don’t know why, but the idea of exploring their personalities through the lens of rivals-to-lovers, reluctant allies, and a pirate setting seems like SO MUCH FUN!

I also think that bringing in religious themes and topics, especially where Kira is concerned, can be so interesting. Perhaps the two of them are going through a religious ritual, tradition, exercise together, with Kira teaching Jadzia about it. I also think that vice versa, having Kira learning about Trill cultures and rites is so interesting and fun. I guess cultural themes and topics is a better word for it, rather than exclusively religious. Perhaps exploring Jadzia’s zhian’tara with Kira, or seeing Jadzia and Kira celebrate the Peldor festival together.

Whatever the setting, the AU, the timeline, I enjoy Kira being a lesbian, but not quite knowing it yet. Not necessarily because of lesbiphobia or the like, but more that Kira hasn’t had the space nor time to fully feel her feelings, to understand what she wants, who she wants, what she likes in a romantic relationship, and that she doesn’t like men. At least, not romantically.

I think that any confession that is very beat-about-the-bush about the whole ordeal is perfect for them. Kira doesn’t know how to express herself, Jadzia isn’t sure what Kira wants (or if she is, then she isn’t sure that Kira knows what she wants, and doesn’t want to be with someone who isn’t sure about her feelings). They sort of stumble around each other, both fairly certain about what the other is trying to say, but not quite being able to spit it out.

Also, for a more silly setting, we do love a bit of holodeck shenanigans. Both holodeck malfunctions or general mischief work perfectly!

Jadzia Dax/Lenara Kahn

Now, here we have the EPITOME of pining and requited but doomed love. Introspection and character studies and ponderings about what could’ve been GALORE!

A fic where Lenara stays and them having to manage exile from Trill is just as juicy as what we got in canon. I think that no matter what they did, there would have been regret or just even the smallest wish to forever want to know what could have been. To know and believe that the life and lives of the symbiont and Trill is sacred, but to still give it up for the woman you love is just…beautiful. Expanding on Lenara staying, or them both disappearing off somewhere would be so fun and interesting.

On the other hand, I love the idea of them writing letters post-Rejoined, perhaps even secret letters, romantic letters, letters written across encrypted channels, is just as beautiful. Maybe they’re not even explicitly romantic, but just clearly yearning while pretending that nothing is untoward or taboo, when the forbidden love hangs from every word.

Seven of Nine/B’Elanna Torres

Now here we can talk about repressed emotions. Especially through the lens of my personal favourite headcanon, which is that they’re both RAGING lesbians. I also highly appreciate headcanons that read Seven as autistic and B’Elanna as autistic, ADHD, or both. I also really like Seven being trans, or at least not particularly caring for/understanding gender in the binary sense.

I love one of those classic scenarios that I see especially in Star Trek AUs where the turbolifts break, or the holodeck breaks, or they crash-land on a desolate planet, or they get stuck in a cave-in. Whatever the catastrophe, it forces them to wait for aid and to talk about things that are usually too uncomfortable, but that they now aren’t able to avoid. Romantic feelings revealed in extremis, I suppose.

I also like all those moments from the show where they have this unspoken understanding for each other. (B’Elanna saying “We difficult patients have to stick together!” comes to mind.) When everyone else finds them odd or difficult to handle, or even complains about how they don’t fit into some imaginary mould, they seem to always understand that feeling of not fitting in and finding comfort with each other.

Also, a minor little thing, but I just ADORE Harry’s friendship with B’Elanna. Any way to get that in is most, most welcome <3 I also really like him with Seven as well.

STAR WARS

Padmé Amidala/Sabé

Themes of girlhood are so central to the things I love about this ship!!! I mean, of course, girlhood mixed with the responsibility of adulthood forced upon not only a young queen (and eventually senator), but also upon a young girl who becomes a bodyguard, ready to lay down her life for the girl she must protect. Those juxtapositions are so filled with potential!!!

I imagine that Sabé, at the start, has a certain admiration for Padmé that turns into seeing her almost as a statue or a perfect painting. Her queen is the one she serves, this beautiful shining figure that she is infatuated with and that she is below. But that is then broken down the closer they become, the more she gets to see the girl with all her imperfections, and not just the queen.

ALSO MIRROR IMAGES!!!! They are supposed to be so alike that they are easily mistaken for each other. I wonder what effect that has on two young girls who fall in love. The teenage years are fraught with insecurities and worries and growing pains, but how can you hate the shape of your nose or the colour of your eyes when you’ve fallen in love with someone who looks just like you? Do you become obsessed with the differences? Or learn to love the differences and similarities alike?

Shin Hati/Sabine Wren

I don’t have that many preferences or headcanons or likes for this ship, both because I’m comparatively new to it, but also because I think there is very little material, and I tend to base my feelings on canon. However, I think they are so much fun and have so much potential!!!

One idea is to have Shin stay instead of running away when Ahsoka offers to help her. Sabine and her begin to form a friendship that turns into something more with time.

I also think it could be interesting to see what potential interactions they could’ve had while they were on their way Peridea. Perhaps Shin doesn’t say much, but Sabine, either desperate for some company or hoping to find an unlikely ally in Shin, coaxes her into talking, even for a brief moment. Maybe Shin reveals doubts regarding Baylan’s plans.

I don’t think there needs to be any explicit romance (depending on the length), but that there is a clear foundation that, with time, and under the right circumstances, something beautiful could bloom.

#femslash exchange 2023 #eli's tealeaves

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