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emisfritish · 4 years

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Puppy eyes make everything paw-ssible - Part 4

Pairing: Sarawat/Tine (2gether the series)

Summary: Retraces the journey of how Charlotte came to be the most beloved member of the Guntithanon/Teepakorn household.

Chapters: 4/6 (although each part can be read as a stand alone).

Previous parts : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Notes: Because we all know Sarawat can be a dramatic little shit, and Tine can be the reasonable one, have this installment. Bonus Earn cameo because I needed her sassy self somewhere in this fic. No actual puppy eyes in this one, because Charlotte is too busy sleeping and making her father panic.

Sarawat refuses to take his eyes off of her.

Since Sarawat entered back into the apartment and immediately noticed the lack of Charlotte greeting him excitedly at the door, his eyes instantly made it to the lying form of his dog, currently laying on her mat like she has been for the past 15 minutes since he came home, and he refuses to let her out of his sight yet, worry pitting in his stomach and the only thing keeping him sane being the small movements he can see her belly make with her breathing.

He knows he’s being stupid right now, and that it’s very likely that nothing is wrong, but he can’t help the worry that is piling in his stomach and he can’t stop his heart from beating fast in his chest.

Ever since Charlotte had come home with them, there hadn’t been one day where she hadn’t been at the door to greet him or Tine as soon as they made it back. And the fact that today she’s just laying down, seemingly sleeping… Let’s just stay that Sarawat is worried, to put it mildly.

It’s probably nothing, and it’s very likely that Charlotte is just resting but… What if it was actually something ? What if something is wrong and she’s not ok ?

He moves quietly, laying down on his front on the floor just in front of her dog pad so he can observe her tiny belly moving up and down, and stays there until he hears the front door opening.

“Hello ! Uhm… Wat ?” he hears Tine ask wearily.

Sarawat knows he needs to be careful about how he says what he’s about to say to Tine. He loves Charlotte, and he doesn’t want Tine to be unnecessarily worried or scared if this is just him over-reacting. Still, he’s also kind of freaking out right now and seeing as Tine knows a lot more about dogs than he does, he needs to share his concerns with him so that they can take action if needed.

“I think Charlotte might be dying,” is what he settles on saying, and he hears Tine’s gasp from the door, as well as someone sighing.

Ok, maybe that was a bit overly dramatic. And so much for not worrying Tine.

“Sarawat, she just looks like she’s sleeping to me. What are you even going on about ?” Tine asks him from the door after a few seconds of silence, which he has probably spent looking at Charlotte to check that she was actually ok.

Sarawat doesn’t feel comfortable letting Charlotte out of his sight yet, so he answers back without taking the time to turn towards Tine.

“She could be sleeping. Or she could be dying. What are we going to do Tine ?” he asks, his voice breaking in the middle of his question, panic beginning to pull him under.

“So I’m going to let you deal with that situation then,” he hears another voice say sarcastically, and he turns towards the door, surprised to find Earn there with Tine.

Before Sarawat has the time to answer, Tine turns to Earn, a betrayed look on his face.

“But he’s your best friend, you can’t leave now !” Sarawat hears him say indignantly.

“He is, but he’s your boyfriend. And that definitely trumps friendship. I’ll come and talk to him about our new song tomorrow. So have fun dealing with his meltdown ! My perfect, sweet and sane Pear is waiting for me at home,” he says with a mocking smile, before turning around and leaving.

Sarawat frowns and watches her back get smaller as she walks away. He wonders what song she wanted to talk to him about, but he quickly pushes the thought away from his mind. He doesn’t have the mental power to deal with it right now anyway. Yes, he is aware she’s mocking him, but Charlotte might be dying and there are priorities to have in life.

He turns back to Tine when he hears his boyfriend sigh, and close the door, before he makes his way closer to Sarawat.

“Okay Wat, what’s going on? She’s just asleep,” he says, amusement clear on his face while he sits on the floor next to Sarawat, crossing his legs to make himself more comfortable.

“I know it may be ridiculous, but she’s barely moved since I came back home. As soon as I cross the door, Charlotte is usually on me in a second and today… What if something is wrong with her ?” he asks, eyeing Tine from where he’s still lying on the floor.

“Wat, babe…” Tine sighs. He ruffles Sarawat’s hair, causing him to scrunch his nose, before he goes to do the same to Charlotte.

Charlotte is obviously not in the mood to be bothered by her owners right now, since she lets out a small yap at Tine interrupting her sleep, before wiggling on her mat, rearranging herself so she’s facing away from Tine and Sarawat.

When he sees her turn around on the mat and hears her small lively bark, Sarawat feels relief rush over him, and he drops his entire body, forehead resting on the floor.

“Had you not roused her to check she was ok ? You know she’s a dog and not a baby, you can in fact wake up her to check she’s okay if you’re worried,” Tine tells him, laughter evident in his voice.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” he sighs, and he hears Tine let out a small laugh. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her in case she really wasn’t feeling well, but in hindsight, Sarawat can’t believe how much of an idiot he’d been, instantly panicking instead of calmly checking her out.

“Not an idiot, just a worried dog father,” Tine teases him, and Sarawat turns his face towards him to frown.

“She’s a dog Tine, not our daughter,” he scoffs.

“Want to tell me why your brain skipped all the logical explanations like the fact that she was sleeping, and jumped straight to ‘our dog is dying’ ?” Tine asks, completely ignoring his previous comment.

“I don’t know,” he sighs in answer, before he lifts up a bit, rearranging his body so he can lie down on his back, still on the floor, but with his head in Tine’s lap this time. Much more comfortable.

One of Tine’s hands immediately starts caressing his hair and scratching his scalp, and Sarawat feels his heartbeat start to slow down for the first time since he came home earlier.

“I’m just…,” he closes his eyes, not quite knowing how to express what he feels exactly. How Sarawat, in his life, has had few people or things that he’s loved truly. How opening up their home for Charlotte has meant someone new for him to love, and therefore someone new that he could lose. How ever since he got with Tine, and now that they have Charlotte, he’s been the happiest he’s ever been in life and that means something has to give eventually, right ? Because that’s not how life usually works out for Sarawat.

He’s still trying to figure out how to voice all of this, but it seems like he doesn’t need to because he feels Tine’s lips on his forehead, his boyfriend pressing a soft kiss there before he caresses his cheek.

“I get it Wat,” he says softly, and it’s true that Tine does know him better than he knows himself sometimes nowadays.

The words prompt Sarawat to open his eyes back up and stare at him.

“But you know, sometimes, things work out. Think about what you always tell me. Our life is a movie, right ? Well this is finally us having our happy ending, our Marley and Me moment.”

“The dog dies, in Marley and Me,” he ends up reminding Tine, recalling his boyfriend bawling his eyes out for hours after the movie ended when they watched it when they first got together a couple years ago.

“God, when did you get this cute ?” Tine laughs in answer, bending down to press a kiss to Sarawat’s pouty lips. “Then think of our lives more as like… Beethoven, rather than Marley and Me.”

Sarawat stays silent for a few seconds, mulling things over. In a way, he has to admit it does kind of fit, with Tine being as excitable as the kids in that movie, and him being as reticent as the father in the movie, before eventually falling in love with the dog too.

“Charlotte looks nothing like that dog,” he ends up saying to be contrary, and he sees Tine shake his head fondly.

“Sarawat, everything’s going to be fine, and I promise right now, Charlotte is just sleeping after having stayed up all night to wreak havoc in our living room,” he consoles him, and Sarawat does have to admit he has a point. Destroying all 6 of their kitchen rolls during the night certainly did take some time, after all.

He looks up at Tine and nods in acceptance, reassured by his boyfriend’s words, and Tine smiles brightly back at him.

“By the way, seeing as Charlotte is asleep right now…” Tine starts to say. “I do seem to recall saying I would make it up to you when Charlotte kept interrupting us a couple weeks ago,” he finishes with a teasing smile.

It takes a couple seconds for Sarawat to recall the scene and understand what his boyfriend is implying right now, but as soon as he does he sits up from his perch in Tine’s lap and jumps to his feet, offering his hand down to Tine to lift him up as well.

“Let’s go,” he says excitedly, prompting Tine to laugh again.

“Who knew I actually had two puppies in the house ?” Tine mocks him, while he follows Sarawat who’s pulling him towards their bedroom. “I swear if you had a tail it would be wagging back and forth right now.”

“Shut up nuisance, and come quickly before she wakes up,” he replies, pulling Tine in the bedroom after him and closing the door. “And I hope you appreciate the restraint I’m displaying right now, holding off on the ‘tail’ innuendos after you left this one wide open.”

“Saraleo !” Tine exclaims, falsely outraged, before he is cut off by Sarawat’s mouth landing on his, preventing any further words from leaving his mouth.

Now that he’s reassured about the fact that Charlotte will indeed be ok, Sarawat can think of much better ways they can occupy their dog-free moment rather than talk. And with the promise of Tine making it up to him…. Well. Let’s just say Sarawat hopes Charlotte stays asleep for a little while longer.

#sarawat x tine #saratine #saratine fanfic #2gether fanfic #saratine fic #2gether fic #emi writes #emi's writing #this is a little ridiculous #but no one who actually watched sarawat's dramatic self pre-tine can say this is ooc

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lassielowrider · 5 years

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One’s a Skeleton, One’s Infamous

When a string of murders occur in a tiny village in the Irish countryside, Skulduggery and Valkyrie have no other choice than to go undercover as a newlywed couple.

There's no way this can go wrong.

Valkyrie Cain/Skulduggery Pleasant

“You must be kidding.” Valkyrie came to a complete halt, something Skulduggery didn’t notice at first. He was a couple of steps ahead of her when he stopped. His head dipped in what she knew was a deep sigh. Well, that, or he saw something interesting on the ground – it was equal chances, when it came to him.

“I’m really not,” Skulduggery said while turning around.

“There’s no way – no way – that this is the only solution.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to properly emphasize her glare.

“Of course it isn’t, but it’s the only way.”

“You just said it’s not!” Sometimes, Valkyrie really wanted to hit something. In this case, she really wanted to hit someone, and that someone was her partner in crime solving. He must’ve recognised the impulse, because he took a careful step backwards.

“The other way includes razing the town.” How Skulduggery could manage to make his skull give a deadpan expression without ever activating the façade, she still had no idea. Of course, it might just be that she’d known him long enough to be able to read him, but his entire face just screamed deadpan at her.

“…that seems like overkill, but it still makes far more sense than your idea.”

“Just admit that, as per always, I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re really not, but you’re slightly less wrong than I hoped.”

It wasn’t until they got back to the car – a 1954 Bentley R-type Continental in absolute mint condition, kept that way mostly through sheer stubbornness and a miracle or five – that Valkyrie brought it up again.

“How, exactly, do you plan to make this work, o wise one?” Valkyrie said, words dripping sarcasm. She’d crossed her arms over her chest again, well aware it looked like she was thirteen and sulking, but this situation really merited a good sulk and glare.

“Why, like always; with my dashing charm and rapier wit, and your,” Skulduggery paused, weighing his words. “Tendency to hit things that annoy you.”

“I’d be offended if this wasn’t what you always say. However, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Valkyrie returned, shaking her head at him. “How do you expect us to go undercover in a village, where some are mortal and some aren’t, and not be recognised? You’re a skeleton and I’m infamous!”

“Ah, you see, I have a plan, and like all my other plans, it is a genius plan,” he said, turning off the main road onto the driveway leading to Gordon’s house. Valkyrie was a bit surprised they were there already, having been too occupied with Skulduggery’s hare-brained schemes to notice much of the trip. “It’s a genius plan because I came up with it, and I am a genius.”

Valkyrie hummed doubtfully at him, but chose not to say anything.

“What’s this plan of yours, then? Because so far you’ve only given me the premise which still is ridiculous.” She uncoiled from her tense, scrunched up position, turning in her seat to look at him in anticipation. Skulduggery, however, just kept looking straight forward, but there was a distinctly smug tilt to his skull.

“Oh, big word! You’ll see when we get to the house, and the idea is not ridiculous. Just because you have no imagination or joie de vivre doesn’t mean everyone has to be like that.”

Valkyrie slumped in her seat, muttering about annoying partners and their secret keeping ways. She didn’t look at Skulduggery, but she didn’t need to. She could’ve felt his smirk from a mile away, so it was no trouble when sitting right next to him.

When he stopped the Bentley outside Gordon’s house, Valkyrie got out of the car, stretching and sighing in relief. She watched curiously as Skulduggery stopped mid-step, seemingly looking at her but in reality just lost in thought. He shook himself, like a dog fresh out of the bath, before finishing his small trek to the boot of the car. He grabbed a plastic bag before closing and locking the car.

She led the way up the porch stairs, unlocking the door and flinging it open. It was a motion that still felt unfamiliar despite the house having been hers for decades. Having hung her coat – a Bespoke original, like all her outerwear – on the hanger, she turned to Skulduggery in antsy expectation. He tsked but handed her the bag. She still hadn’t figure out how he could tsk without tongue or lips, but that was a pondering for another time.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You must be joking,” she said, deadpan, while looking into the bag. Hanging his coat next to hers, he didn’t bother removing the fedora before turning to face her.

“Why is that your gut reaction? Can’t you just admit I’m a dashing, suave genius who has solved every single issue with this?” She fished the bottle of hair dye out of the bag, inspecting it. When she saw what colour it was, she had to clench her fist around the bottle to not throw it at her partner. He hadn’t quite done anything to deserve that. Yet.

“Skulduggery. I’m not going bottle blond, no matter what the cause.”

“You said yourself that we’re too recognisable, this way you won’t be.” That did it. She threw the bottle of hair dye at his head. She’d like to fool herself into thinking it was due to her superior throwing skills that it connected, but she had a feeling it was mostly due to him letting it hit. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“You’ve only got yourself to blame.” That’d be her story and she’d stick to it, no matter what happened.

“Honestly I thought you wouldn’t be exalted about the hair dye, so I asked our esteemed Grand Mage to whip up a façade amulet. When she heard it was for you she was more than happy to oblige,” Skulduggery said, fishing the amulet out of his pocket. He was all too happy to give it to her when she made grabby hands at it.

“Oooh, pretty!” Valkyrie’s inner magpie was pleased, at least. While she’d like to credit China alone for it, Skulduggery did have impeccable taste in all things not replacement cars. The amulet was no bigger than a coin, and felt like it was made from solid silver. On one side, the façade runes were etched, and on the other a tree of life, set with sapphires. If the hue of the sapphires matched Skulduggery’s favourite suit, Valkyrie was certain it happened to be a coincidence and not a hint of any kind from China. “Put it on me?”

“Of course.” Laying the amulet on its corded leather band in Skulduggery’s outstretched hand, she turned her back to him, sweeping her hair out of the way.

“Why the sapphires?” He brushed her cheek when putting the band around her neck, and she definitely did not swallow nervously. That her cheek tingled where he’d touched it was simply due to his gloves being cold, and nothing else.

“Gemstones work as a receptacle for certain kinds of magic, enabling the amulet and façade to function regardless of how your magic works – or doesn’t work, as the case may be.” Valkyrie felt him tie the leather band into a secure knot, the amulet resting just below the hollow of her throat. She probably imagined the way it felt like his fingers lingered ever so slightly on her neck after he was done. “Why sapphires in particular, well, China said you’d appreciate them, so that was a purely aesthetic choice.”

“So – they’re magic batteries, got it.” She didn’t deign to say anything about the sapphires. Deftly activating the façade with a mere touch of her fingers to the runes, she grimaced at the phantom feel of her facial features adjusting.

When it was done rearranging her nose she hurried over to the mirror. She’d seen it enough on Skulduggery to not want to see it happen to her own face. Looking in the mirror, she met the gaze of a stranger, only tangentially familiar. Her hair and eyes had lightened from their usual ebony to a dark brown, her eyes were set slightly wider and her eyebrow slightly higher, giving her a perpetually surprised look.

Valkyrie frowned, the familiar expression turned strange on new features. Her cheekbones had lowered slightly, too, leaving her face roundish in shape. Turning her head this way and that, she realised what was so familiar – she looked more like Crystal and Carol than she’d ever be comfortable with. Feeling her nose, rounder than usual, she turned to Skulduggery.

“Well, how do I look?” She spread her arms to the side and gave a coquettish spin, well aware it looked ridiculous in her usual leather getup. Skulduggery didn’t say anything at first, looking at her with the blank expression he usually wore while deep in thought.

“It’ll do,” was all he said, in the end. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, for some reason. “Now, pack your bags, we’re going to Tracester! We’ve got a murderer to catch.” Valkyrie felt that maybe he could try sounding a little less like a gameshow host, because this wasn’t amusing in any way.

And that’s how it began, the mission where Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain, best magical detectives in at the very least all of Europe, went undercover as a married couple. This could only end well.

***

This would never end well, was the only thought running through Valkyrie – no, Valerie’s mind as she looked at the house that would be her home for the foreseeable future. She had better get used to the name. To calm her jittery nerves she mentally went through the cover story again. She hadn’t been this nervous about a case since the very beginning, and she felt ridiculous about it.

There was nothing to be worried about, except literally everything going wrong.

She was Valerie Nice, in-the-know mortal wife of Rascal Nice, a handyman who made up for his lacking magic powers with excellent skills in, well, everything else. They were both in their early twenties, Valerie in between jobs at the moment, and had decided to settle down in the small village of Tracester due to its rich, mixed population.

The village was nigh on idyllic, one small stone cottage with thatch roof next to another. All the streets were cobbled, there was a single pub and a post office doubling as convenience store, and despite there being a steady influx and outflow of people everyone seemed to know everyone.

The one thing ruining the postcard-picturesque feel of the place was the occult and brutal murders taking place there.

All of the victims had been in-the-know mortals married to a mage of some kind, which was why Skulduggery had hatched the absolutely ridiculous plan of going undercover as a married couple.

Due to him being an ancient skeleton kept together with some magic and a miracle, he couldn’t pretend to be the mortal – Valkyrie, with her weird white lightning magic, could easily pretend to be one.

Of course, they had to get to Tracester first, which may be easier said than done, especially considering they were going in yet another of his ridiculously coloured Ford Fiestas. She’d decided to call this one the Limerick Lambaster, due to the particularly eye searing shade of green it was painted.

Then again, she wasn’t the only one complaining.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Skulduggery said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s my charming ways and beautiful smile, you can’t help falling for it every time.” Valkyrie smiled, but couldn’t help but feel that the usual beauty of her smile wasn’t quite what she achieved. She still hadn’t gotten used to the façade, it still felt so weird looking in the mirror and seeing, well, her cousin looking back.

“Yes, but. A dog. Do you know what dogs do? They bury bones,” he grumbled, his activated façade letting her see him throw a sideways glance at the subject of conversation.

“Oh don’t worry, she’s a darling and will behave!” Valkyrie scoffed at him, hugging the puppy in her lap a bit tighter.

“Valkyrie, if you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m literally nothing but bones, no matter what else my suave and dashing persona exudes.”

“Then I’ll come home and find you buried in the garden one day, think of it as a trust-building exercise.” Valkyrie shrugged, stroking the puppy from head to tail, delighting in the softness of her fuzzy fur.

“Look at her, she’s slobbering at the thought of eating me.” The puppy was, in fact, sleeping, not much slobbering going on at the moment.

“She’s an eight weeks old English Mastiff, she slobbers at everything.” She did, she really did, and Valkyrie loved her with all her heart. Of course, she’d probably only be able to keep the dog in her lap for a month or two more, due to her already being big, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted.

Before the argument could continue, Skulduggery pulled the car to a halt by the curb in front of a tiny little cottage. It was a stone cottage with a thatch roof, had a good sized garden and, she was glad to see, was situated on its own a bit away from the other houses on the street (one of three in the entire village).

“Oh! Is this it? It’s adorable!” Valkyrie didn’t even have to pretend to be excited about the house. It had charmed her the moment she saw it.

“Yes, here we are.” Skulduggery switched the car off, content to sit and watch her trying to juggle the dog and the seatbelt at the same time. At her glare, however, he sighed and got out to help her.

They’d both seen the neighbours watching curiously, so they sank back into their alter-egos. It rankled a bit, Valkyrie had to admit, accepting help to get out of the car, but newly-weds were touchy-feely constantly, weren’t they?

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely…” She held the puppy to her chest with one hand, the other still clutching the hand Skulduggery had held out to help her, watching the house with veritable stars in her eyes.

“Well, you said you wanted a thatch roof, dear, and you know I do my best to make you happy,” Skulduggery replied, going all in with the soppy voice and loving looks. It took all she had to not flinch when he called her dear in that tone of voice, instead holding his hand tighter. Oh, this was going to hurt, wasn’t it?

“Do you have the key?” Skulduggery didn’t reply, choosing instead to dig through his trouser pocket. He held the key aloft in triumph when he found, releasing her hand in order to open the wrought iron gate and unlocking the door.

The door led into a small hallway, cosy rather than confining, with open view into the kitchen. Valkyrie sighed happily upon seeing the country-style kitchen, but opted to go in search of the dog bed they’d ordered to have set up in the living room. Of course, the living room wasn’t so much a room as a cosy little den, the big dog bed taking up much of the available floor space.

She’d found a company that made personalised dog beds, and hadn’t been able to resist having one with the name embroidered on it. When she put the puppy down, she was happy to see she’d managed to pick a colour for the embroidery that perfectly matched her fur. The Artemis nearly gleamed in the light, as Artemis slept on next to it.

Artemis already weighed nearly 15 kilos, and while it was no problem for Valkyrie to carry her, she quickly became cumbersome. She watched for a moment, to see if she woke up again, but the mastiff just snuffled and kept sleeping.

Walking back over to Skulduggery, they commenced the tour of the cottage. Valkyrie couldn’t help but fall more and more in love with it for every bit of it she saw. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when they reached the bedroom, however, as she reluctantly came to an important insight.

“The moving company finished yesterday, so all that’s need to do is unpacking the last few boxes, and making the bed. The clothing we can leave to tomorrow, what there is of it,” Skulduggery said, gesturing to the bags of clothing piled by the wardrobe. He seemingly hadn’t noticed the great big elephant in the room, so Valkyrie took it upon herself to inform him.

“You realise we’re going to have to share a bed, right?” The face Skulduggery made when she said it would’ve been amusing if she didn’t feel the same way.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, of course we won’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, we really will. If the households are being watched, which is likely, they’ll notice if you don’t go to bed.”

“…if I snore, wouldn’t you tell me to sleep in another room? Or on the couch?” he tried, gesturing out into the hallway. She shook her head.

“We’re newlyweds, Skul. There’s no way I’d consign you to the couch, at least not yet.” They’d elected to go with names that could be shortened – Rascal for Skulduggery, so if she slipped and started with Skul, they could claim it was just a nickname. The same for her, even if Skulduggery of course had claimed he’d never slip up. Valerie was similar enough to Valkyrie, too, that she felt she’d have no problem getting used to it. “I can share a bed if you can. I promise I won’t molest you in your sleep.” She rolled her eyes at him, trying to disguise her own nervousness.

He mumbled something in answer.

“What did you say?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I said that with my virtue guaranteed there’ll be no problem.” He turned away from her, missing her raised eyebrow. Considering the façade’s eyebrows, it didn’t elicit quite the same effect as when she did it with her own face, so it might be just as well he didn’t see it. However, while she hadn’t heard exactly what he’d mumbled, it hadn’t been that.

***

When Valkyrie woke up the next morning, she was alone, not surprisingly. What was surprising, however, was that she was more or less hugging the pillow that had been designated Skulduggery’s. She couldn’t help but blush, and hoped she hadn’t been cuddling him during the night, instead of his pillow. She had a tendency to cling in her sleep, she knew.

It was pretty early, but she knew Skulduggery had already had a job lined up that would bring him into some of the villagers’ homes, so he’d had an even earlier start.

She rummaged through the wardrobe, looking in distaste at the clothing. None of it was Bespoke, and none of it was in her style – it was, however, Valerie Nice’s style. Floral tank tops shared space with likewise dresses, right next to jeans that she knew would be skin tight. She didn’t mind the trousers being tight, of course, but she really missed her leathers (and, well, all her other clothes).

When she’d found clothing that weren’t quite as jarring as the sun dresses, she made her way downstairs, being greeted by the snuffling snores of a sleeping Artemis.

A note on the kitchen table informed her that Skulduggery had taken ‘the menace’ outside before leaving that morning, and Valkyrie could just picture his disgruntled visage.

Putting the kettle on and bread in the toaster, she turned and leaned on the kitchen counter. Surveying the chaos of boxes – most if not all filled with cheap, brand new things neither of them would mind leaving behind – she sighed. This would take an eternity. The kettle shrieked and she gratefully turned her back on the chaos that was her temporary living room, busying herself with breakfast. The kettle also woke Artemis, who made a beeline for Valkyrie’s knees. Legs buckling, she couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew her biggest weakness was a giant puppy?

When Skulduggery came back from work, it was to a house in disarray, but quite a few boxes less than there were that morning. In the midst of it all was Valkyrie, spread eagle on the living room carpet, Artemis curled up on her legs.

“Honey, I’m home!” He just couldn’t resist the cliché greeting, knowing it’d rankle her something fierce.

“I hate moving. Hate it. There’s too much stuff.” Valkyrie didn’t bother opening her eyes, just launched straight into a diatribe.

“You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“No, I’ll just ask any one of all my none local friends.”

“Well, you’ve got the menace, it’s about time she starts pulling her weight.”

“Ah yes, when you’re at work I’ll just ask Artemis to help out, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Speaking of work, how did it go?” She sat up, easily folding her legs into a relaxed lotus position, Artemis only moving to more properly put her head in her lap.

“Clearly you’re just not as intelligent as I am, which of course is in no way a surprise. Well, we’re officially the neighbourhood curiosity, and also invited to the village fete weekend after next. I’ve heard some snatches about the others, but nothing tangible.” Skulduggery had forgone his usual fedora, the headwear not in something Rascal Nice would wear, and he had to admit he missed it. He hung up the denim jacket he’d been wearing during the day, glad to be rid of it for a while. China had improved the façade enough that it for him covered his entire body – he hadn’t quite counted on how stifling it would feel.

“Village fete?”

“It’s a party, this year held at Wisteria Lane. Everyone’s invited, apparently, and Marlon Chimes – mortal, looks like a middle-aged Charlie Sheen, needed help with the electricity – said it’d be a superb moment to introduce ourselves.” Skulduggery sat down on the couch, a huge oxblood monstrosity that was easily the comfiest piece of furniture he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting on. It was with some suspicion he watched as Artemis turned her head to look at him, tongue lolling out. “She’s slobbering at me again.”

“I know what a fete is!” Valkyrie replied indignantly. “And she’s really not, she’s just happy to see you for some unfathomable reason.”

So it continued, the two of them bantering as they tried to put their temporary home to rights, the enormous puppy following at their heels – too close for Skulduggery’s comfort, if anyone asked, which Valkyrie categorically did not.

***

“Oh, you must be Valerie – from over at Willow Lane, right?” Valkyrie didn’t react at first, still not quite comfortable with the name, but then she realised the middle-aged woman was in fact addressing her.

“Yes, yeah, that’s me! Sorry, I’m so caught up in moving I think I accidentally packed my brain into one of the empty boxes,” Valkyrie dragged her hand through her hair, trying to laugh it off all while mentally reprimanding herself for such a rookie mistake.

“I know the feeling dear, don’t you worry. How’re you settling in?” The other woman looked to be approaching middle-aged, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in their community.

“It’s lovely here, really – I’m so used to the suburbs, you know, living in a block of flats and all the noise. Here it’s… idyllic, really, that’s the only word I can find.”

“Dearie me, I can see that being very different to here. Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce myself – Juniper Chimes, I’m over at Wisteria Lane.” She held out her hand, Valkyrie quickly juggling her bag of shopping so she could shake it.

“Oh, Marlon’s wife, right? Skul – Rascal, my husband? He said he’d been over, and Marlon had invited us to the village fete, I think…?”

“Of course you’re invited! Yes, Marlon and I talked about it just before, and said it was obvious we’d invite you. Since it’s being held at our place this time, it’s entirely up to us.”

“Should I bring anything, or so? I don’t want to show up emptyhanded and make everyone’s first impression a bad one…” Valkyrie played at the kind of shyness she’d never felt, rubbing the back of her head and looking at Juniper through her lashes.

“Yourself and a good mood, that’s all we ask!” Juniper said jovially. Valkyrie’d always associated joviality with Santa and no one else, but there were no two ways about it. Juniper was jolly. It scared her a little, to be honest.

“Oh, it sounds lovely – is it okay if I bring my dog? She’s still a little puppy and I don’t want to leave her alone too long.” Valkyrie carefully omitted just how large this ‘little’ puppy was.

“Of course! Have you had her long?”

“We got her just as we moved here, actually – Skul promised me a dog as soon as we were out of the flat, and with me between jobs at the moment we thought the timing wouldn’t get any better.” She didn’t even fib, she’d always wanted a dog but with their arbiter work it hadn’t looked to be a good time for it. Now, with nothing to do but sit in her – their - temporary home and twiddle her thumbs, well, it really was ideal.

***

The weekend of the fete arrived quicker than Valkyrie thought possible, especially as every day and night dragged on spectacularly. The days were spent walking around the village when she wasn’t trying to get the cottage into the shape she wanted, and she’d probably met most if not all villagers already. An adorable ten week puppy is an amazing icebreaker, if nothing else. She’d done some careful digging, but so far nothing new had been unearthed.

Skulduggery had been able to do some proper detecting, as he so proudly called it, while performing his job as a handyman. He hadn’t found anything either, to his growing consternation. If it hadn’t been about murders, Valkyrie would’ve ribbed him endlessly for his fruitless search.

The nights, however, the nights were the worst. Valkyrie knew she was a cuddler when she shared a bed with someone she lo- liked, and Skulduggery sadly wasn’t the exception. She could only thank god he wasn’t very easily woken when meditating, because so far he hadn’t seemed to notice her attaching herself to him during pretty much every night. She couldn’t even blame it on heat seeking tendencies – he was dead, so he didn’t exude much warmth.

She shook herself out of her thoughts when they neared the larger cottage on Wisteria Lane, where the fete was in full swing. She and Skulduggery were walking arm in arm, and she couldn’t help but be extremely aware of every single square millimetre where they were touching. To not arrive emptyhanded, no matter what Juniper said, she’d whipped up a quadruple batch of muffins, stuffed into a basket she’d forced Skulduggery to carry. Well, when he heard it was either the basket or Artemis’s leash, he’d voluntarily grabbed the basket.

After calling out generic greetings in a few different directions they split up, Valkyrie heading for the shade with Artemis in tow, Skulduggery towards some of the men he’d worked with so far during their stay. What children there were flocked to Valkyrie’s side, and she felt a small pang thinking of when Alice was that little. The biggest draw was Artemis, of course, who couldn’t look happier with all the attention she was receiving. Seeing that nothing would befall her beloved dog for a while at least she felt safe enough to walk around a little, introducing herself to the few villagers she hadn’t already met.

She was deep in a conversation about English Mastiffs with one of the little old ladies from Weigela Lane when she saw Skulduggery make his way inside. That was her signal that the plan was to commence.

They did actually have a plan, a good, well-thought out plan for once. They’d split up at the party, mingle, and then separately make their way inside, where they’d be able to snoop to their hearts’ content.

After carefully ending the talk about mastiffs, Valkyrie made her way over to Juniper, shyly asking about a bathroom. She received directions, and making sure to look like she was repeating them silently all the way indoors.

As soon as she was inside the doors, she immediately stopped slouching. Valerie Nice slouched, the epitome of a wallflower lacking much social adjustment. It also served to make her look shorter than she actually was, which could only be a good thing when being undercover.

She found Skulduggery outside the study, the door of which he carefully closed behind him.

“Nothing yet, not a single paper out of place,” he whispered to her, frustration making Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice shine through instead of Rascal Nice’s.

“I saw bookcases in the living room, have you checked those? The wardrobes in the hallway?” Valkyrie whispered back. Skulduggery only shook his head in answer, and they made their way downstairs again.

The bookcases in the living room turned out to be mysterious, however not in any way relating to their case. No, they were only disguised magic books, many of which Valkyrie had seen, if not actually read.

“Someone’s coming!” Skulduggery hissed in her ear just as Valkyrie was about to open one of the wardrobes in the hallway. In return, she did a rookie mistake. She panicked.

She’d hold fast to that claim forever, saying that’s the only reason she did what she did.

Valkyrie looked around quickly before grabbing Skulduggery by the shoulders and pushing him up against the wall. He didn’t have time to do more than open his mouth – to complain or ask what the hell she was doing, she didn’t know – before she kissed him.

Luckily, he got with the program rather quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist, tangling the other hand in her hair. She moved her hands a little, turned her grip from a death grip to more clutching at him. She had to give it to him, for someone who’d been dead for several hundred years, he sure could kiss. It felt like he was trying to devour her, and if he kept kissing her like that she’d be happily devoured. She didn’t even have to fake going weak in the knees, leaning more of her weight against him, trusting him to hold her up.

Valkyrie put a hand on his neck, thumb stroking the hinge of his jaw, tilting her head a little to get a better angle. She moaned when he tightened his grip on her hair, her knees feeling like rubber when he growled and nipped at her lips in return.

The gasp behind her back quickly brought Valkyrie back to the present, however.

“I’m so sorry, I was just going to the kitchen,” Juniper Chimes said, averting her eyes and blushing the colour of a tomato.

“Oh, it’s us that should apologise, Juniper, I’m so sorry – I can only blame being newlywed,” Valkyrie said, willing herself to blush even redder still. Skulduggery was still leaning against the wall, gobsmacked look not shifting in the slightest.

After another round of apologies from both Juniper and Valkyrie, their hostess left and Valkyrie sighed in relief. Turning to look at Skulduggery, she could only stare in surprise at the empty spot where he’d just been.

When she came back into the garden, Marlon was the first to approach her.

“What on Earth flew into Rascal? He left as if the devil himself on his heels!” She’d never talked to him before, but she recognised him based on Skulduggery’s description – a middle-aged Charlie Sheen was surprisingly accurate.

“Oh, he… he gets awful migraines, sometimes, you know how it is. He felt it coming on now, a bit too much right now is all. I’ll make my rounds and say goodbye to everyone, see if I can find my dog…” She’d never been good at fibbing on the fly, and after that kiss she probably didn’t have quite all the mental faculties she usually did.

The conversation repeated for most every couple she talked to, all of them sad to see them go but fully understanding them both.

When she came home, Artemis in tow and her muffins basket now stuffed full of leftovers, Skulduggery had shut himself in the study and locked the door. She felt like crying when he didn’t even say anything when she knocked.

If she fell asleep on a wet pillow that night, well, Artemis wouldn’t tell.

***

When Valkyrie woke the next morning, the other side of the bed wasn’t slept in. Biting back tears she performed her morning ablutions, releasing Artemis into the fenced-in backyard before sitting down by the kitchen table. She buried her head in her arms before changing her mind, rubbing at her eyes and then leaning her head back in what felt like a futile attempt to not cry.

She’d probably ruined her longest lasting friendship with that stupid stunt she’d pulled yesterday. Yes, the kiss had been amazing, everything she’d ever dreamt of (she could admit to dreaming of it) and more still. She could even admit, quietly and only to herself, that she didn’t just like Skulduggery, she loved him. Was in love, even. And now she’d ruined it all.

Barking in the yard pulled her out of her downward spiral, and she got up from the kitchen table to look at what Artemis had gotten up to. The large puppy was standing in the corner of the yard, looking and barking at something on the ground. Making her way over to inspect whatever it was, Valkyrie didn’t get more than halfway across the yard before something heavy hit the back of her head and everything went black.

***

When she came to again, she was kneeling on a rough stone floor, arms raised and shackled above her head. She kept her breathing even, not moving or opening her eyes, just like Skulduggery had taught her. She supressed the pang she felt when thinking about him. She’d been kidnapped, she could cry about other things later.

It seemed like she was alone, wherever she was, so she dared to open her eyes a fraction. Still seeing no one, she opened them fully, craning her head this way and that to try and get a full picture of just how deep she’d gotten this time.

Deep, was the answer. She was shackled in such a way that if she moved her arms even a tiny bit, she’d dislocate her shoulders, and while she could do that she preferred to use it as a last resort. Her kidnapper had been sloppy however, they hadn’t taken her amulet from her nor used binding chains. Then again, if her kidnapper was the murderer, they probably didn’t feel they needed binding chains. They only took mortals, after all.

“Awake, are you? Got to be thick, that skull of yours. A hit like that should’ve kept you out of it for far longer.” Valkyrie raised her head at the familiar voice. Descending the stairs at the far end of what she now recognised as a basement was Marlon.

“Marlon? Marlon, what are you doing?” She tried to sound frightened, twisting her arms in miniscule movements to make the chains jingle without dislocating her shoulders. The man laughed, a high, cold laugh. Valkyrie had gone toe to toe with Lord Vile, and this man, a mere mortal man, genuinely made her more nervous than the armoured menace had. Marlon, she didn’t know what he wanted, what he was going to do. Lord Vile was nothing if not predictable.

“Oh, don’t you fret my dear. As soon as my wife gets here, it’ll all be over for you.” What Valkyrie had taken for kindness when she first met him was in fact calculation, she now saw.

“What’s going on? What are you doing to me?” Keep him talking, just get him to keep talking, give herself time to figure out a plan (or time enough for the cavalry to come, at this moment in time she wasn’t much bothered which solution presented itself first).

“Ah, I can answer that, Valerie dear,” Juniper cut in, descending the stairs. She was wearing a velvety pink cocktail dress with matching heels, and Valkyrie didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone more out of place. “You see, much like you, my dear Marlon here is mortal. Not an ounce of magic in him, sadly. Well, maybe a thimble, but that’s as much magic as any mortal has, really.”

“Exactly! I’m mortal! What do you want with me?!” Valkyrie felt that her scared shriek was very believable. Maybe she’d go into theatre, now that her partnership with Skulduggery was most definitely over. Another, even smaller, very detached part of her mind realised that what was happening to Valkyrie at the moment was shock, brought on by the cold in the basement and a probable concussion from the blow to her head. Well, that, and also panic. She had no idea how she’d get out of this.

“Well, my dear girl, enough thimbles and you’ll have a cup. If we steal the miniscule amount of magic in a mortal – a mortal aware of magic, mind you, otherwise it won’t work – over and over again, why, we’ll soon have quite a bit of magic,” Juniper explained, like it was an everyday topic of conversation and not a discussion of how to murder and steal the magic from in-the-know mortals.

“I don’t need enough magic to be able to perform any tricks, of course. I just need enough to stop aging. I refuse to leave the light of my life behind.” Marlon shrugged, not bothered by how crassly they were discussing literal murder, just so he could live a little longer. “It works, too. For everyone we’ve killed, I’ve gotten a little younger, and every time it lasts a little longer.”

“Everyone?” Valkyrie gasped, as if she’d had no idea. “How many have you killed?”

Marlon opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, his wife was enveloped in flames. Valkyrie sagged in relief, the movement hurting her shoulders but she really couldn’t find it in herself to care right then and there. Marlon spun on his heel, ready to throw himself headfirst into a fight, but never got that far. Instead, he received a gloved fist to the face, and soon thereafter an unforgiving stone floor to the head.

With an irritable wave of his hand, Skulduggery put out the fire licking at Juniper’s dress, the action doing nothing to silence her shrieks. She quieted, however, when two Sanctuary Cleavers stepped forward, cuffing both her and Marlon.

Skulduggery, however, busied himself getting Valkyrie out of her shackles, not even once meeting her eyes. He couldn’t hate her too much, she reasoned, because at least he caught her when she fell forward, the shackles no longer on her and therefor no longer providing support.

For the second time that day, everything went black.

***

They had to stay in Tracester for another three days, to tie up loose ends and ensure Valkyrie’s concussion had more or less passed. It was three days of Valkyrie having the entire house to herself – well, almost the entire house. Skulduggery had shut himself in the study the moment she woke up from her bout of unconsciousness, and didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

“I’m calling Tanith, she’ll pick me up. You go on ahead,” Valkyrie said, waving a hand vaguely in Skulduggery’s direction. She didn’t dare look at him, she didn’t know what she’d do if she did.

“What? I thought you’d come to like the, what did you call it, Limerick Lambaster?” he jested, trying for his usual mannerisms.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Skulduggery. There’s an elephant in the room that we’re both ignoring so hard it’s turning orange.” She snorted, turning to a pile of kitchen towels that needed to be refolded.

“I’ve never seen an orange elephant before, it might be interesting.” Even with her back turned, she could see the inquisitive tilt of his head. It was the same tilt he did whenever a new, unexpected clue showed up.

“Please, just. Leave, Tanith’ll come to pick me up. Me and Artemis. It’ll work out.” The towels weren’t turning out evenly folded, one bigger than the other but smaller than the third. From the corner of her eye she could see him reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t! Touch me,” she more or less shouted. Skulduggery flinched, taking a step back.

“Oh. I’m – sorry. I should’ve realised I’d made you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t understand why he sounded so distressed. It was her at fault here. She couldn’t even fold the flipping towels right, damn it. She started over again with the pile.

“It’s not that. I’m just.” She decided to treat it like a band aid, just rip it off. “We won’t be working together anymore, when we get back home.”

“Are you – quitting?” The distress in his voice heightened further.

“After this? Of bloody course I am. And you call yourself a genius…” She was aware her words were dripping derision, but she’d always been the type to channel her sadness into anger, and this time was no different.

“Is there nothing - ? I’ll ignore it, if you do, it’ll be just like before.” He sounded like he was making a noble sacrifice. She felt like playing golf with his head. Ignore it, bah.

“Can you? Can you ignore it, though, pretend like nothing happened?” she asked, trying to keep the tone neutral and the rage out of her voice. She wanted to activate the façade again, make it so Valerie would be hearing this instead, but it didn’t work like that. She imagined she could still feel the burning of where he’d brushed against her neck when putting it on.

“I have for quite a few years now, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Valkyrie heard how he started to pace, could picture him. She’d caught a glimpse before, he was wearing the sapphire blue suit she loved so much. Part of her wanted to turn to look at him, but she knew that if she did, she’d fall to her knees and beg just as likely as she’d zap him with as much white lightning as she could.

“Oh, great, bloody thanks for that. I knew it was unwelcome, but you don’t have to sound that happy about it.” She felt like she was boiling. She swept out with her arm – curse those bloody towels, anyway – and straightened up from where she’d been bent over the kitchen table.

“Unwelc - ? Valkyrie.” Skulduggery came to a halt in the middle of the floor, and he could only watch as she began to pace instead. Whereas he was somewhat of a stationary pacer, in that he only moved his feet, she was a very active pacer – windmilling of her arms included.

“What?! What do you want to hear? I’m sorry I fell in love with you? I’m sorry that nothing I do can make me stop loving you? What do you want to hear?!” The last few words she shouted in his face, but he refused to back down this time.

“Valkyrie. I’ve been ignoring my feelings for you for the better part of a decade.” He looked her in the eyes, as much as he could without the façade activated at least, trying to make her understand.

“…oh.” She blinked a few times, mouth moving like she was going to say something but then thought better of it.

“Yes, oh,” he said, fondness and, dare she think it, love colouring his words. “For two geniuses, we sure are dumb.”

Valkyrie could only nod dumbly in answer. She’d just had most of her world view turned upside down, she felt she could be excused this once for being a bit slow on the uptake.

He cupped her cheek with one gloved hand, the other sneaking inside an already open shirt to activate his façade. It didn’t quite register what he was doing until she met his gaze properly instead of staring into his skull.

Almost blushing at her daring, her hand followed the path his had just taken, thumbing the façade off again. She had time to register his surprise before she kissed him, properly this time.

It was a new, but not bad, feeling, kissing Skulduggery Pleasant. It was mouth to teeth, no tongue or lips to meet hers, but it was still Skulduggery she was kissing – his wordless rumble of pleasure she heard when stroking her thumb over the joint of his jaw, that same growl she’d heard last time when she pressed against him. He could definitely make her knees weak, whether he had lips or not.

He was Skulduggery, she was Valkyrie, and that was really all that was needed.

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #valduggery #fanfic #friends to lovers #bed sharing #ripe with tropes

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byjillianmaria · 6 years

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Getting Started With Scrivener: A Quick and Dirty Guide

So, this is inspired by a recent conversation with @incandescent-creativity , but honestly, it’s a sentiment I’ve heard on writeblr pretty often. “I want to try Scrivener, but it looks intimidating!” Well, I’m here to (hopefully) make it a little less intimidating, by showing you exactly how I use it. Me, a rather non-tech-savvy person. Please note that I’m using Scrivener 3 on a Mac, but the stuff I’m about to go over should be found on just about any version. I also implore you to try the free trial first, because that’s really the only way you’ll know if you like it or not.

Okay, ready?

Why Use Scrivener?

Why do I like Scrivener so much? There are a few reasons.

All of my documents. In one place. All of my plotting, planning, references, and previous drafts are super easy to call up and organized! It’s amazing!

The split-screen feature makes editing and rewriting a breeze.

Because the chapters each get their own document within the document, there’s less lag and it’s easy to jump around!

THE COMPILE FEATURE IS SUPES HELPFUL WHEN YOU’RE DONE DRAFTING.

It auto-saves, y’all.

Honestly, there’s probably a billion things I’m forgetting, but suffice to say, I really, REALLY love Scrivener.

How do I create a new story in Scrivener?

Maybe I’ve sold you on Scrivener, but you’re still a little wary on how to use it. So, I decided to make this test document to show you what it looks like!

Here’s the dialogue box Scrivener launches when you open it. There are a bunch of cool options, but honestly, most of the time you’re going to be just fine with the “Novel” option, found under the “Fiction” tab.

(Please note that I downloaded some of these templates from the internet, just to see. They were a little involved for me, personally. The built-in “novel” template works just fine.) You’ll get a dialogue box that prompts you to name the file and save it to the location of your choice, aaaaand ...

(Click here if you’re having trouble reading this screenshot.)

So, this is what a brand-spanking new “Novel” document looks like! As you can see, there’s a tutorial on how to write the thing built right into the document! But if you’re still feeling a little overwhelmed, I’m going to focus in on four aspects, in order of how I use them:

Notes

Characters

Manuscript

Research

Notes - Where The Brain Dumps Go

So, my first step when opening up a shiny new document is to write down my story idea! The “notes” folder is the best place to store this, I’ve found. Simply click the “notes” folder, then the little green plus sign towards the top left. A new document will automatically be created, and you’ll be prompted to name it.

(Click here if you’re having trouble viewing this screenshot.)

At this phase of the game, I’ll usually name this file something like “Brain Dump” or “Plot Vomit” and put all of my ideas into it. Here’s an example of a finished “plot vomit,” from Morning’s Edge, a silly little project of mine. (Ignore the rest of the stuff for now. That comes later!)

(I’m not including an imgur shot because, let’s be real, you don’t need to read a plot vomit lmao)

At this point you might want to create a more detailed outline and stick that in your notes, too. Or, if you’re like me, you might want to move on to ...

Characters!

Scrivener does this really cool thing where it has a built-in character sheet. When you click the “character” folder and hit the little plus button, it’ll automatically add a character sheet instead of a blank one! To edit what that template looks like, you just have to click “Template Sheets” and go to “Character Sketch.”

(Click here for imgur.)

You can add or subtract elements as needed, or replace it with your own! I find their built-in thing to be pretty good, though. Here’s an example of a filled-out one.

As you can see, you can even upload a picture. I personally love using dollmakers for this (Rinmaru’s fantasy avatar creator is a personal favorite), but you can use whatever you want, or just don’t add any, if you prefer! When you click on the “character folder” it will display all of your character images and it’s just ... really satisfying.

So once you’ve gotten your characters and plot all sorted out, you’re ready to move on to ...

Manuscript - Actually writing the thing!

The basic way to explain the Scrivener manuscript is this: each folder is a chapter, and each document inside the folder is a scene. You don’t have to do things that way, of course—you can delete folders entirely and have each document be a chapter, or whatever. But this is a quick and dirty guide, and you can read the more comprehensive tutorial Scrivener gave to figure out other methods.

The first chapter and scene are already created for you. Give the folder your chapter name (if you have one), name your scene document whatever you’d like, pick a font that tickles your fancy, and get writing!

(Click here for imgur. Note the further instruction off to the right.)

When you want to add a new scene, just click the plus button! When you want to make a new chapter, highlight the current chapter folder, press the little arrow NEXT to your plus button, and click “new folder.” (If you accidentally create a chapter, just click-and-drag it to its rightful spot! You can also rearrange chapters and scenes easily by clicking-and-dragging. Another nifty feature.)

It’s worth noting that selecting “Manuscript” will show all your chapter folders with descriptions, and selecting one of your chapter folders will show all of your scene documents! If you don’t add a description, it will display the first few words in the document.

It’s beautifully organized, you guys.

While I’m writing, sometimes I need to refer to something. I dump all of those things right into ...

Research - My Catch-All

So, I don’t know how everyone else uses the research folder, but this is how I use it.

(Click here for Imgur.)

Anything I need — photo references, old drafts, and things of that nature — tends to wind up in the research folder. Uploading old word docs is easy enough. Just go to File > Import > Files. You can even upload full web pages to reference! (These sometimes lag, though.)

To reference something in your research folder while writing, just click command, option, and = at once. This will split the screen and let you open up two things at once!

Scrivener has a lot of powerful features (including the compile feature, which I’m not touching on here but lets you export your complete manuscript in a bunch of different formats, including ebook), but this is all you should really need while drafting. If you want to learn more about how Scrivener works, Literature and Latte has a lot of very helpful tutorials that you should definitely check out! This is just how I use it.

You can download Scrivener’s free trial here! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out :) Scrivener lovers, feel free to share your own reasons for loving Scrivener!

#writeblr #amwriting #mine: advice

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glitterisevil-blog · 6 years

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What Christmas Means to Me

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” or so the song goes. But not if you’re someone who has mild Aspergers, OCD, or an awkward combination of the two. Even as I write this I’m acutely aware that I’m about to make myself sound like the biggest arsehole known to mankind, but I wanted to share this post to give people a bit of an insight into the way my brain works, and so that when I’m being particularly “un-festive” in the run up to Christmas, there’s a bit more understanding around why. I’m not just being a twat, I’m really not. There are elements of it that I genuinely struggle to cope with.

Anybody with an Autism Spectrum Disorder or anyone who has a family member on this spectrum will know how difficult certain life situations can be. I’ve read about families who can’t have a Christmas tree, or can’t unwrap presents because they have children with severe Autism who find the whole thing far too stressful.

Now, at no point here am I implying that this is my situation, nor am I looking to enter into any sort of woe-off contest with any readers of this post. This isn’t about me wanting sympathy; it’s about being able to express my feelings. Year after year I’ve been labelled a Grinch because I’m not skipping through Tesco whistling Jingle Bells whilst cheerfully stockpiling boxes of Quality Street, nor will you find me watching Muppet’s Christmas Carol the minute that Bonfire Night is done with. And I need to explain why…

As long as I can remember I’ve found the concept of ambiguity quite stressful, and I detest having a lack of control over things. Everyday stuff that most people do without a second thought can cause me untold degrees of angst.

For example, imagine I had to park in a car park in an unfamiliar town, in order to catch a train somewhere. It wouldn’t be enough to just turn up and park there, oh no. I’d need to look online to see how many spaces the car park had to evaluate my chances of getting a space. I’d then need to understand the payment system in advance. Do I take a ticket and pay upon exit? Or do I pay upon entering? If so, will they take my card or will I need coins? Does the car park have a one way system or not? If that car park is full, where is the nearest back-up car park and what’s the distance from the train station? Should I just assume the worst and leave the house twenty minutes earlier than planned in case I need to use that back up car park and then have to walk to the station to get my train on time? It’s unlikely that I’d sleep particularly well the night before the journey either, with much of this going around in my head.

And inevitably, I turn up with plenty of time to spare, grab a coffee on the platform, and catch my train, just like all the normal folk. Everyone just assumes I’m really organised. It takes a lot of cortisol for me to appear this organised.

So, onto Christmas…descending on us each year like a giant, expensive, tinsel-covered cold sore that we all felt erupting but had no power to stop. Here’s the bit where I make myself sound like a moaning, ungrateful bastard as I list the things I can’t cope with about Christmas. To all those “Buddy the Elf” types amongst you – pin back those pointy ears and brace yourselves….

Christmas cards

I can’t even express how delighted I was a few years back, when the trend to donate to charity rather than send Christmas cards became a thing. I seem to recall that there may have been some actual air punching involved! Perhaps I’d now be spared the ordeal of cards infiltrating my home over December, sneaking in slowly and nestling themselves Trojan horse style between the electricity bills and bank letters. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to see as many of them lying there on my doormat alluringly, expecting to be unsheathed, admired and displayed in my home for all to see. Well no, I’m not spared that ordeal. Because the majority of people will still send cards, because they think it’s nice for me to receive a card, assuring me that they really want me to have a merry Christmas.

Someone should pass an Act of Parliament that forces manufacturers to make Christmas cards a uniform size, shape and colour, and then perhaps I might have a chance at a merry Christmas. As it goes, I spend most of December putting them up and continually rearranging them in some semblance of size and shape order, until a new one appears in a random colour or format (a fucking purple star shaped card this year – seriously?!) and throws the entire display into chaos. Don’t even get me started on cards with glitter on FFS. If you want me to have a merry Christmas, just tell me via text, email or Facebook and then I’ll know that you really mean it.

Christmas trees and decorations

One day I will live in a mansion that could easily be the main feature article in Ideal Homes magazine. It will have a lounge the size of a church hall, with sleek polished wooden floors that would be the envy of any bowling alley. This lounge will contain nothing but a large sofa, a wall mounted television, a coffee table, and a textured rug. When this day comes, I might consider the concept of a massive, brightly coloured, flashing Christmas tree encroaching on my space. Whilst I live in a modest house, with a small lounge, that looks like an overflow warehouse for Toys R Us due to the amount of baby-related shit that already takes up an entire corner, I’m not entertaining one.

Based on my feelings towards a tree, I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why I won’t drape tinsel round my windows, or have a 2ft high, battery operated snowman in the house that talks to you each time you walk past it.

Presents

This is the bit that carries the most immense guilt for me because it’s the part I really wish that I could enjoy. Those amazing people that you love dearly and who love you back, have taken time out of their busy week to spend their hard earned cash on choosing a gift for you. They’ve taken the knowledge that they have about you - the colours you like, the interests you have, your shoe size or body shape – and have used it to select a gift that’s just for you. That’s just lovely.

Except its not lovely if you’re me. Because now, a collection of unfamiliar items that I didn’t need or ask for have invaded my “safe space.”

And as well as now having to find homes for all these items, I’m also expected to show delight and gratitude to the giver of each item, and make up nonsense along the lines of “wow I’ve wanted one of these for ages!” when presented with a fucking spiraliser. This, my husband tells me, is what polite and normal people say at Christmas when presented with a gift.

Spoiler alert: I’ve not wanted one for ages, I’m sorry to tell you that this is a barefaced lie. Had this been the case I would already own one, as by now I would’ve identified some deep, primal urge to carve courgettes into the shape of spaghetti, and then trotted along to John Lewis to buy whichever gadget best made this happen.

So we can all safely assume that the fact that I didn’t already own a spiraliser means that I didn’t really want a spiraliser. But that’s a moot point because now I have one. And I have to store it somewhere in my house logical enough to convince the giver that I will use it (like the cutlery draw) and not somewhere unconvincing (like the wheelie bin) but each time I go to get a fork from the draw, seeing that bastard spiraliser sat there taking up space will remind me that I’m a horrible, ungrateful person who doesn’t deserve nice people in my life.

Now, gift cards are great, because they mean that I am in full control of all the purchases that will come into my house, and such purchases will cross the threshold following a great deal of prior consideration like whether they are needed, where they will live, and how they will be used. The beauty of the gift card is that if it happens to be for somewhere that I won’t ever shop, then I can simply choose not to use it, or re-gift it to someone who will. Yes, gift cards are good.

Food

Franz Kafka once said that so long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being. So based on this logic, during the month of December I must have solved more questions than The Beast, The Governess, and The Dark Destroyer from The Chase put together, because I literally DID NOT STOP EATING.

Food and drink are my Achilles heel, cheese especially so. Wine definitely. So having copious quantities of them around the house within easy spreading and pouring distance makes for a very difficult and uncontrolled time of year for me.

If I could merely enjoy them for what they were, and worry about the weight gain in January like everyone else does then it wouldn’t be as stressful. But that’s not how someone like me works, with my daily (sometimes twice daily) weigh ins, or my need to exercise excessively at the gym to erase the calories from a “bad” food day. Food should be enjoyed and respected. It should be shared with friends and family. It should be fuel for exercise. Food should not take the form of a tin of Roses, shovelled with wild abandon into your mouth, one after another, until you feel so violently ill that you have to put yourself to bed to resist the urge to throw them all up and start again like some sort of Roman emperor.

My unhealthy relationship with food can pretty much be kept in check from January to November because at no other point in the year do people find it acceptable to bring home a 24 pack of mince pies every time they nip to the garage for diesel. At no other point do we give ourselves carte blanche to get as fat as we want because we’re supposed to “eat drink and be merry” at this time of year. The entire concept of excessive Christmas eating, for me, dredges up far too many demons that I’d rather not face. Except not only am I expected to face them, I’m expected to welcome them in, pour them a Baileys and offer them a Ferrero Rocher because these demons have Christmas fucking jumpers on. It’s bollocks.

So there you have it, a little glimpse of what it’s like to live inside my head over the festive period. And nobody needs to remind me of how unbelievably lucky I am to have these “problems” at Christmas because I already know this to be true, which only serves to compound the feelings of guilt that I feel when I read some of this back.

Next Christmas my son will be 18mths old and will want the WORKS! A huge tree adorned with glittery ornaments, Santa’s “snowy” footprints stomped out in the lounge, gaudy stockings hung up on the fireplace. So it’s possibly time I addressed all of these issues. Or at least some of them. I draw the line at tinsel.

#christmas #ocd #aspergers #disordered eating #grinch #spectrum

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/88-stargate-sirius-rising-2019/

8:8 Stargate - Sirius Rising 2019

8:8 Stargate – Sirius Rising 2019

By Gillian Macbeth-Louthan

As the energies of the summer light heighten and grow like an un-mowed weed, we are escorted to a new conjunction of time and im-possibilities. We are asked to expand our horizons and expectations and our ability to receive. We are asked to become more, to do more, to see more, and to be more. Our gifts that come on the winds of change escort us into new understandings of how we are to boost our innate abilities. You are commander and chief of your cellular content; you are a directional for human consciousness. Your body seeks your direction and wisdom. Place this newly freed power/energy/light/ into any section of your life that needs and extra boost. It is pure energy, spend it well.

As we round the corner into the den of the Lioness in the month of Leo, we find ourselves face to face with our ancient future and our past. Reflections in our world mirror our inner needs on all levels bringing to the surface all that has been buried alive. Emanations from the light behind the sun rearrange our brain waves, readjusting the thinking patterns that have kept us hostage in an elliptical orbit. The blue light from the star Sirius shines down onto all of our choices. Stellar gateways open conduits are created. Everything we do or do not do will be felt in all sections of the universe.

It is time for the solar lion to rise from her enigmatic posture of guardian and unleash what has been subjugated to human restriction. A full positioning of this event transpires within the secret chamber of the left hemisphere of the brain for females and the right hemisphere of the brain for males. Like an unexpected tsunami the ocean floor parts to release a surge and clear the mental shorelines of self. Emanations from the stars reach down to work there healing magic upon all of us. The light behind our Sun lifts her skirt exposing her stellar body for all to see. The dance of the seven veils of eternal time cleverly keeps most concealed.

On August 8, a living power will once again move into material form. Like a cool breeze on a hot day just allow the solar emanations to encircle you without trying to corral them and tie them down. The 8:8 is symbolic of the human DNA. The star Sirius rises every midsummer this rising is associated with new thought, new light, and new beginnings. It rises before the sun purposefully after being in stellar hiding for about 70 days. Sirius houses the Great White Brotherhood, the Lemurian Elders and the Christ Consciousness. As the sun sends forth her rays of clarity a personal and planetary sonic boom is heard throughout the land.

Explosions of the old are atomic as they are cast off the old paradigm like dust in a dirt devil. Truth unfolds itself to be seen in the long and short of it, Narrating a new bedtime story that can only be learned by heart. Sleep beckons but the energy shouts so loud and is so demanding that sleep is short and not so sweet.

As the vibrations of the 8:8 Stargate is birthed the human body bucks at the thought of housing more light, downloading more encodings, or receiving any more truths. What was once hidden is seen, what was once seen is changed. The eyes of the soul see with a new clarity redefining what was once considered dark. The overlapping of the two suns creates a portal for all to enter or exit depending upon choice.The tiredness comes to slow down the body and the ancient angers that stir in the emotional layer. The gravitational pull has increased as earth begins a new evolutionary spin. Centrifugal force fails as all that was within the spinning bucket falls changing scientific truths to a point beyond confusion.

Sirius Rising 2019

The heliacal rising of a star occurs when it first becomes visible above the eastern horizon, for a single moment just before sunrise. Each day after the heliacal rising, the star will rise slightly earlier and remain visible for longer before the light from the rising sun makes it disappear. The same star will reappear in the eastern sky at dawn approximately one year after its previous heliacal rising. Because the heliacal rising depends on the observation of the object, its exact timing can be dependent on weather conditions.

Sirius rising is different for every latitude, for the Smokey mts of Tennessee, it is on 8:8 this year. this date is a powerful doorway of unequaled opportunity to swim forward into a place of understanding your divine light skills.

Sirius has been honored since ancient times. In Atlantis, the mysteries were created on information received from the Sirian Star Masters. After the third fall of Atlantis, the Sirian mysteries spread into ancient Egypt. As early as 3000 BC the Egyptians started celebrating the helical rising of the star Sirius declaring this the New Year as the Nile flooded its banks in the time of the great lion, in the month of Leo.

Sirius is the home of Cosmic Christ for this entire Galaxy. It has ‘always’ been a spiritual prototype for Earth. As the rays from Sirius arc onto earth via the sun, we have another opportunity to activate the Cosmic Christ seed within. The little solar jewels that are dormant DNA encodings, wait for stellar emanations to open sealed cellular files. When Sirius rises in your part of the world go out before dawn and look to the east. Whether cloudy or dark seen or unseen, the star Sirius will rise to meet you energetically. It is in the quiet times in-between words and thoughts that you will find the key that unlocks what has been sealed until now. Go outside, face east, and allow the pre-dawn energies to enter you. Ask to be released of all that no longer serves you and be filled in completion with that which serves your highest soul path and spiritual evolution.

Visualize the emanations and radiance of Sirius coming forth into your earth Heart from your star heart. Sirius gives you the gift of the ‘cycles of Time’, reconnectingall sacred spaces through time and space, on and off planet. The tone of creation sounds in every cell of your body on earth and cycles through all 144 levels of your light body. Without humans, the light from deep space, far off galaxies and event horizons would just continue to travel endlessly without ever stopping to gather and share the teachings and truths from other places of time and space. Light needs you as much as you need light; you are a receiving vessel.

This August 8, 2019 before the star Sirius rises, the winged messenger planet Mercury will make a morning appearance, escorting brilliant Sirius just before sunrise. For Dandridge Tennessee latitude this would be August 8, 2019. For locations farther south, this occurs days earlier and later for latitudes farther north. Go to this link for your actual date of Sirius rising per your latitude.

Start looking for Mercury and Sirius about 30 minutes before sunrise. A binocular may help in viewing them. Mercury is low in the east-northeast, about 10 degrees up. Sirius is very low, in the east-southeast about 3 degrees up when first visible. Sirius may twinkle wildly this low in the sky.Sirius, the Dog Star, is sometimes called the Nile Star because of its heliacal rising coincided with the flooding of the Nile River. The first sighting of Sirius and its association with the rebirth of the Nile was so important that its heliacal rising marked the start of the Egyptian calendar year. Heliacal relates to the star’s proximity to the Sun. in the ancient past, Sirius made its first appearance in early July as seen from the ancient capital of Memphis, but due to the precession of the equinoxes, the star now rises in early August.

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boardwalk-absurdist · 5 years

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All the numbers! 😊

Aaahhh thank you~ I haven’t done one of these in forever but I love them, so let’s go (under the cut)!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Coffee mugs~ I have one standard reliable water bottle that I carry with me, but I love me a clever/cute coffee mug.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Chocolate bars, natch.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Cotton candy~

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Usually stuff like energetic, bubbly, and smart. They used to say gifted but around 4th grade they weren’t allowed to say that anymore.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? None of the above, I don’t drink soda. The bubbles hurt my tongue.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? Oh man this is an eternal struggle tbh. I think I usually dress a bit more grunge or boho, but I want to be pastel and goth as well? The others I could take or leave.

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuds, as long as they aren’t those Skullcandy kind with the squishy part that you jam in your ear canal. I hate those.

8. movies or tv shows? Depends on my mood and how much time I have.

9. favorite smell in the summer? This may be weird, but like…sun sweat? You know when you’re laying out comfortably in the sunshine and there’s a nice breeze and you sweat a lil but it’s like just warm? Also the ocean, I love the beach but I live nowhere near one.

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Uh, avoid competitive people as much as possible by running in the opposite direction from the ball? Walk laps rather than play the game? I did not like gym class.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Nothin’. Sometimes I’ll have a donut or poptarts or pain au chocolat but usually it’s a lotta nothing.

12. name of your favorite playlist? “Players musicals”, a spotify playlist with songs from the 4 musicals my college theatre group did while I was there. Or on my iTunes, I have one called “Power Up” that is all my pump-up jams.

13. lanyard or key ring? …both? I have a keyring on my lanyard.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Ooh, the Haribo gummy frogs. With like the white part on the bottom? Idk what that shit is but I love it.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I know it’s a play but we did read it, and I loved it. Alternatively, maybe Brave New World? I found that one fascinating.

16. most comfortable position to sit in? Curled up sideways in an armchair or with my legs thrown over one arm and my back against the other.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? In the summer, I always pick one pair of sandals with a fun pattern so I get cool tan lines on my feet. Otherwise, Merrell Mocs 5evr.

18. ideal weather? Sunny and dry, maybe with a light breeze, and in the mid- to high-70s. Either that or clear, sunny, and between 15 and -15 for like a perfectly brisk day.

19. sleeping position? I usually sleep on my side with my top leg flung out so I’m like half on my stomach. But I can’t actually sleep on my stomach cuz I have titties and they are Not Comfortable.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Literally anywhere and on anything. I doodle and write on p much any surface I am given.

21. obsession from childhood? …uh. There were several. But I guess Jerry Lewis was the biggie/most embarrassing.

22. role model? That’s a tough one. Probably Bonnie Bassler.

23. strange habits? I eat most foods around the outside and save the center for last. Like poptarts, waffles, sandwiches… I also have a tic where whenever I have my car in neutral I jiggle the stick shift back and forth to like prove to myself that I am in neutral. I’m sure there are more that I’m unaware of that I just think are normal, so hey, if you know me irl and you know of a weird habit that I missed, send it my way.

24. favorite crystal? Idk. Does tiger’s eye count? It’s my favorite semi-precious stone.

25. first song you remember hearing? LORDT I have no idea, probably a Bruce Springsteen song.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Lay in the sunshine. Or swim outside.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Play in the snow.

28. five songs to describe you? These are more songs describing what it feels like to be me, but: “Fear and Loathing” and “Teen Idle” by Marina and the Diamonds, “I Wanna Get Better” by Bleachers, “Yo Girl” from Heathers, aaaand “Carmen” by Lana Del Rey.

29. best way to bond with you? Work on a show together.

30. places that you find sacred? Difficult to say. I guess anywhere that feels like a liminal space.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Ooh okay so I have this black cropped sleeveless hoodie that says “never trust the living” on a tombstone and has a skull, I like to pair that with some burgundy high-waisted short shorts and tights with embroidered skulls and butterflies. Then those go with my platform black and white sneakers or my 6 inch platform boots with flames on the heels.

32. top five favorite vines? rOaD wOrK aHeAd?; I AM THE SAND GUARDIAN; …wow; “little diddy”; and either happy crismus or WELCOME TO BIBLE STUDY

33. most used phrase in your phone? Probably “fair enough”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? “if you needed brain surgery, would you go to a general practitioner? No? THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL BUYING FISH FROM THE GENERAL STORE” fishtopia may finally be dead but that fucking commercial lives on

35. average time you fall asleep? Like midnight?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? I can has cheezburger?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Depends. If it’s just for a few days, duffel bag. But I prefer to travel with a suitcase for anything longer than a week.

38. lemonade or tea? Lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Uh I guess lemon cake?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh! One time this girl tackled this dude allegedly cuz he wouldn’t share his beef jerky. The school was put on a code yellow while the security guard separated them.

41. last person you texted? Myself, to send some gel pictures from my phone to my laptop.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Jacket pockets. I have shitty girl pants pockets.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? why must you hurt me in this way. I have a denim jacket that I adore, so I guess that one? But I really appreciate the aesthetic of bomber jackets.

44. favorite scent for soap? Irish Spring. am cermet

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? I guess sci-fi.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? I sleep in my underwear.

47. favorite type of cheese? Cheddar or Gruyere.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? No clue. Strawberry, maybe?

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “Once you’re in it, it’s okay.” - This is How, Augusten Burroughs Alternatively, “How unlikely! Yet here we are.” - Spaceman of Bohemia, Jaroslav Kalfar

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? An inside joke with the Brit, I think.

51. current stresses? oh the thousands

52. favorite font? Currently I’m really feeling Book Antiqua.

53. what is the current state of your hands? Uh, fine? Clean? My nails are Ready for some new polish.

54. what did you learn from your first job? How to scoop ice cream.

55. favorite fairy tale? I don’t think I have one.

56. favorite tradition? So in my family, we have a routine for putting up the tree (we have a fake tree that we use every year). My dad puts the tree together, my mom rearranges and bends the branches to make it look more realistic, my dad puts the lights on, and then my little brother and I decorate it with all the ornaments. It’s a lot of fun and my favorite part of Christmas.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? An abusive relationship, getting help for depression/anxiety, and my mom’s attempted suicide.

58. four talents you’re proud of having? I’m a p good writer, a decent swimmer, I can do cross-stitch/needlepoint, and I am very good at taking tests/learning.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? “Eat an entire ass.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Slice of life goofy high school comedy. Like Ouran, or the lighter parts of Fruits Basket.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? There’s a line in @scifigrl47‘s fic “Hollow Your Bones like a Bird’s” that has really stuck with me over the years: “It is the farthest from death that I can get, to decide, second by second, not to jump.” In a similar vein, the line “I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out” from the original Avengers movie really made an impression. On a funnier note, the lines “I’ve frequently not been on boats” and “One can hardly eat cucumber sandwiches in an agitated manner” from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead and The Importance of Being Earnest respectively never fail to make me laugh.

62. seven characters you relate to? Lordt that is so many. Okay. Alissa Meson from the Truth series, Chidi Anagonye from The Good Place, Lee Fiora from Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld, Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket, Shiloh Wallace from Repo! The Genetic Opera, Augusten Burroughs in his memoirs (not technically a character but I relate so hard), and Bo Burnham’s stage persona (it COUNTS dammit).

63. five songs that would play in your club? “1, 2, Step” - Ciara, “Night Fever” - The BeeGees, “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” - Journey, “Chelsea Dagger” - The Fratellis, and “Damn You Look Good And I’m Drunk (Scandalous)” - Cobra Starship

64. favorite website from your childhood? Quizilla, RIP

65. any permanent scars? Several on my hands (they used to be cat scratches but I picked at them so much they scarred up), two punctures from my cat biting me on my right inner forearm, and one biggun on my left asscheek from when I fell out of a tree and had to get 6 stitches.

66. favorite flower(s)? Poppies, lavender, fireweed, and forget-me-nots.

67. good luck charms? Not really? I have jewelry that I wear every day but that’s more a habit/ritual rather than for luck.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? LORDT okay so I worked at an ice cream shop two summers in a row, right? There was this DISGUSTING cranberry stout flavor, and a p gross ginger one, plus every time someone ordered a weird milkshake we’d make a little extra so we could try some. One time someone got like a large stout (the regular, not the cranberry, which was still nasty) and pumpkin milkshake with malt. It was horrid.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? It takes as much pressure to bite through a human finger as it does to bite through a carrot.

70. left or right handed? Rightie.

71. least favorite pattern? Uh. I guess paisley? It doesn’t really do anything for me.

72. worst subject? Organic chemistry or physics.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? Oooh so nutella and honey is DELIGHTFUL if you’ve never tried it. Also those parmesan bread bites from Dominos taste real good dunked in the icing that comes with the cinnamon twists.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? Like a 4 or 5.

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I genuinely do not recall.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Scalloped potatoes with cheese.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? Idk I kill all my plants. I have a lil sempervivum that I’ve kept alive for a few months though~

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Grocery store sushi.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Lmao they both are bad but I’ll say driver’s license.

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? Are they not the same thing? I call them fireflies.

82. pc or console? PC. I grew up without a console so I lack the intuitive understanding of their control mechanisms that most people seem to have.

83. writing or drawing? Writing.

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts.

84. barbie or polly pocket? Barbie I guess?

85. fairy tales or mythology? Mythology.

86. cookies or cupcakes? …cookies.

87. your greatest fear? Disappointing people who took a chance on me.

88. your greatest wish? If I tell you, it won’t come true.

89. who would you put before everyone else? My little brother.

90. luckiest mistake? Not applying for summer internships. Instead I just talked to the one microbiology professor and she offered me a summer job in her lab and it’s because of her that I’m at the school I’m at for grad school and have experience and all that.

91. boxes or bags? Uh. Bags I guess? Easier to carry.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight.

93. nicknames? My parents call me Squirrelle. Some people call me T (my real name starts with a T).

94. favorite season? Spring, I think. It’s so nice to come back out of the cold.

95. favorite app on your phone? I guess fb messenger, I use it the most.

96. desktop background? It’s a colored collage of Jareth and Sarah from pika-la-cynique’s “Girls Next Door” massive crossover series on dA.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? I dunno, like a handful? Some are totally useless.

98. favorite historical era? Probably the 80s.

#Anonymous #carmen answers #meet the blogger #thank you!#these are so fun

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crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer · 7 years

Note

For the really long number ask: questions by 10. :D

Oh boy, so many questions! Thank you, Speedy~ XD

There is a lot oftext (mostly rambling) below the cut. I would have had this posted sooner, but I’ve beenpreoccupied lately. ^^’

Feelfree to send me more questions~

~.~

10:The word that I use all the time to describe something great?

Hmm, probably “awesome” or “amazing” getoverused by me a lot. XD

20:Favourite video games?

FFFFFFFFFFF THERE ARE SO MANY!!!!!

Of course, you know me and how much I love HatofulBoyfriend. Those games will forever have a tight grip on my heart. >vBut also the Persona games I’ve played. *sobs* There are so many versions ofPersona 3 and Persona 4 by now, including their crossover sequels and whatnot.I love them so much. And Persona 5 is currently breaking my heart, but it’s sogood~ Also, we’re finally getting P3 and P5 dancing games to accompany P4:Dancing All Night, and I am so ready for that!

I’ve only played through Hakuouki: Demon of the FleetingBlossom so far, but I really want to play some of the other games at somepoint. I keep seeing stuff about them and I need it because the story andcharacters are so good. XD

Dream Daddy is also shaping up to be a pretty good game,from what I’ve played of it, so I can toss it on the list here as well~ ;P

There are way more games I could mention, but these ones areespecially important to me right now, so I’ll just leave it at that for themoment. =P

30:Eye colour?

My eyes are hazel. It depends on the light, but sometimesthey look more green and other times they look more brown.

40:What do I think about most?

I don’t actually know what I think about most. o-o

I try not to be this self-aware because paying too closeattention to my thoughts tends to stress me out. But, I mean, I do very oftenhave moments where I stop and go “oh my god, I love my girlfriend so much,she’s so cute, how is this possible” because I’m a sentimental dork and mybrain won’t stop reminding me. Also just as often over the last year, I’ve hada lot of thoughts about how I miss my dog and my cat, too. But I’m one of thosepeople who stops and notices/remembers really cute things and then has anemotional moment about how cute they are, so I tend to think about how cute myfriends are or how cute an animal is or… similar cute stuff. Because I’m anemotional sap.

Also, I’ve pretty much always got magical boys or birds onthe brain, but literally no one is surprised to hear that. XD

50:How do I destress?

I either play a game I like or listen to music (unless whatI need at the time is to shut out the world and all the noise that comes withit); try to read something or work on my writing; watch a show or movie thatmakes me happy as a distraction; or sometimes scroll Tumblr or just the tagsfor a thing I like a lot, mindlessly Liking/reblogging things.

You can tell I do that last one a lot from my various wallsof spam on everyone’s dashboards. ^^’

60:Pet peeve?

I have a lot of little pet peeves, but the one that comes upa lot is grammar. More specifically when people write “defiantly”when they mean to say “definitely” or when they incorrectly abbreviateet cetera as “ect” instead of “etc” aaaaaaaaaaaaah whydo people do this?

I mean, I understand that auto-correct is a thing and willmake you regret every typo you ever make, and I understand that mixing upletters and confusing words is common for a lot of people. So, I don’t get tooupset when I see it, but. How on earth did“defiantly”/“definitely” become a thing? Like… why? Idon’t understand. It drives me nuts just thinking about it.

But the “etc”/“ect” thing will alwaysbother me because it may have started as a genuine typo somewhere out there,but then people started thinking that “ect” actually WAS theabbreviation for “etc” and… no… Seriously, click on that link upthere and read the definitions of both abbreviations. There is a very cleardifference and it makes me want to rip my hair out that people don’t realize.*sobs*

70:Can I sing?

Actually, yes. People really like my voice, but most of thetime I’m really shy/awkward about it. To think I once wanted to be a singer ina band. ;;-;;

I remember going to a sleepover for a classmate’s birthdayparty in 6th grade and I casually mentioned that I liked to sing, so all thegirls in my class who were there wanted to hear and they kinda coaxed it out ofme. They were all super impressed and wanted me to sing them a lullaby beforewe all went to sleep, but I ended up singing them some 60’s RocknRoll musicinstead because I was really into it at the time and that’s all I knew off thetop of my head.

And then in 8th grade, the music teacher at our schooldiscovered that I had a perfect singing voice for the school musical and sherearranged an entire scene in the script just to give me a song so she couldutilize my voice. I had kind of resigned myself to it at that point, so thefirst time I had to sing in front of everyone during rehearsals I justpretended like I was singing for everyone at that party again. And after I hadfinished the song, everyone in the auditorium who hadn’t heard me sing beforewas speechless and I got a freaking standing ovation because they didn’t expectthe quiet kid to be hiding that kind of voice. //dead

Unfortunately, I don’t have a very powerful singing voice,so it didn’t project very well. No matter how much vocal training I was putthrough for it. But because my speaking voice is so loud, I didn’t need to weara body mic for my voice to project to the back of the auditorium. You know thatrule of the stage about how you’re not supposed to turn your back to theaudience while you’re speaking because it muffles your voice? I was told Icould act in any direction I wanted to if it worked for the scene because, evenif my back was turned, everyone could still hear my voice loud and clear evenin the back row. *sigh* So, the one song I had seemed kind of pointless in theend, but the music teacher (who was also the director of the play) refused togive it up. She apparently just really loved my singing voice that much.Instead, she told me to talk-sing the parts of the song that were too high forme to sing loud enough and I thought that was kinda silly, but I did it anywayand it turned out alright. I can sing lower notes quite loudly, apparently,just not the higher ones.

So, I guess that answers the question. I like singing bymyself, though. Sometimes, I’ll sing around people I’m close to or feelcomfortable with. But generally I’m still awkward about it.

80:Can I drive?

Not yet. *sobs* But I’ve been taking driving lessons and Ihave a road test coming up soon-ish. So, hopefully I’ll have my license beforethe end of the year. I mean, technically, I guess you could say that I can drive at this point, but… I’m really not that good at it.

Up to now, the only vehicle I’ve been able to drive is atractor. A car is a whole different creature, though, and I’m having troublefiguring it out… especially since I’m apparently too small to see over theback seat properly and I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to deal with that,since it’s kind of a pretty important thing for backing up. =/

Tractors are way less terrifying and I would much rather usethat as a mode of transportation if given the opportunity. XD

90:Favourite sporty activity?

When I was a kid, I used to like playing soccer and baseballa lot. Now, I enjoy badminton more on the rare occasions that I get to play it.^^

100:Do I have more girl friends or boy friends?

That is a very difficult question to answer because I don’tactually know. I… don’t really think about that much, so I don’t “keeptrack”… and, besides, gender is a weird and relative thing, so who evenknows? ^^

110:Do I like selfies?

I hardly ever take pictures of myself anymore. I used to alot when I was younger and I kind of wish I still did now, but I just don’thave the energy and I feel weird about it. I don’t dislike it, though. I justkeep putting off doing it because I lose interest almost immediately after Ithink about it. This is why I struggle every time someone asks for a picture ofme because I just… don’t have any recent ones… generally. o-o

120: AmI much of a daredevil?

That really depends on the situation. I don’t mind tryingnew things even if they’re a little out of my comfort zone. But I won’t go outof my way to seek out dangerous/crazy/adrenaline-pumping experiences. XD So, Iguess I play it safe more often than not.

130:Favourite piece of advice?

Aaaaah, I think one piece of advice that can be applied tomany situations and is very important to me because it keeps being relevant inmy life is this…

If someone hurts you (whether they intended to or not) andyou don’t know if you can trust them again, you are not obligated to give thema second chance even if they come back to you and ask for one. If you’re notready to risk putting yourself out there for someone who hurt you before andrisk the chance of getting hurt again, you do not have to. Even if they seem tohave changed or say they miss you and want you back in their life, you owe themnothing. You are not obligated to take them back. You are allowed to say no andprotect yourself. It doesn’t matter if that person who hurt you is“family” or someone you used to be best friends with. You don’t haveto open yourself up to risk getting hurt again just because of your previousrelation to them.

140:Do I believe people are capable of change?

That depends on how you define “change” when itcomes to a person.

Personally, I don’t think people can fundamentally change any part of themselves, but I do believe people can grow. In which direction we grow (positively or negatively) determines who we areat any given time, but deep down on the inside, we are, have always been, andalways will be the same person we were born to be. Personality-wise andwhatnot, that is our identity and it’s how we learn and choose to channel thatidentity that makes all the difference. There’s always room for growth, butoftentimes the results are permanent and it’s easy to spiral in the oppositedirection of our desires because we are still affected by our environments andpersonal situations. You know, the whole nature vs nurture thing. That’s howyou get people who used to be good becoming rotten and people who used to be terriblemaking a positive turn around.

I think this growth is what people refer to as“change”, though, and I’m just being nitpicky with semantics becausethe two words technically mean different things in this context. I justdistinguish between them when it comes to this sort of thing because of whatI’ve observed in different people throughout my life and this is the way I’vemade the most sense of it so far. Humans are complex creatures and it neverceases to confuse and amaze me.

150:What is the best decision I have made in life so far?

I… really don’t know. Clearly, the choices I’ve madeleading up to this exact moment in my life have been a mix of good and bad, butthey still all resulted in me being exactly where I am today. And a lot of goodthings have come from it, such as meeting most of the people in my life. Ican’t really say what the “best” decision I ever made was. I’m justliving each day trying to survive, so I don’t consider each individualdecision. As morbid and depressing as that sounds. I guess I’m grateful forwhatever decisions led me to meeting so many wonderful people. ^^

160:What colour mostly dominates my wardrobe?

*looks at the pile of clothes I still need to fold and putback in my closet* I have a lot of pink, black, and white clothes, but I don’tthink either of those colors can be considered the majority of my wardrobe? Ihave a pretty decent mix of colors to choose from.

170:One of my favourite quotes?

I was always a fan of Adam Savage’s “I reject yourreality and substitute my own” because Mythbusters is cool and I liked thecontext in which it was said. XD

180:Do I like shopping?

It really depends on my energy levels. Most of the time, I’mjust not in the mood to go shopping anymore. I used to love it a lot when I wasyounger, especially when I’d get to go shopping with my grandparents and mycousins. But I do still enjoy hanging out with my mom’s side of the family andmy friends, so going shopping with them is more fun than exhausting. So, Isuppose it also depends on who I’m with, too. ^^

190:If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go?

Honestly, I never have an answer to this question, so Icouldn’t even begin to think of one. This may sound like a cop-out, but I thinkI would rather not mess around with time travel even if it were possible. Although,if I did have that ability, I’d probably use it in such a mundane way as tofind out about things (like social events or awkward encounters) before they happenso I could make sure to avoid them like the awkward potato that I am. XD

200:Dragons or wizards?

*slams hands down on table* BOTH!!!! Or even better! Give medragon wizards! >v

210:What is on my bucket list?

Um. I don’t have a bucket list anymore. Well, I mean, thereare a few conventions I’d like to go to eventually, so I guess that. ^^

#Ask That Dork #well this was long and fun XD #I'm sorry it took me so long to finally reply to everything but I've been busy lately ;;v;;

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careergrowthblog · 6 years

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Art-Science and other positive tensions that fuel great teaching.

One of the key ideas that I’ve tried to capture in this blog and in my book, The Learning Rainforest, is that great teaching can emerge from the numerous tensions and contradictions that surround us. Not by dismissing them or by seeking to resolve them and not by picking a side – but by recognising them, embracing them and trying to making sense of them.

When you look at this image, what do you see: a grid surrounded by a cloud or a cloud with a grid inside?

Of course it is both of those things. However, different people will see this differently. Some people are more cloud; they embrace ambiguity; they are more comfortable where there is less structure even while seeing structures as a necessary. Others are more grid; they prefer things to be ordered; they seek to reduce ambiguity even while acknowledging that there is room for it. The challenge is to see structure and ambiguity as having a symbiotic relationship; they need each other; each is poorer, less healthy, diminished without the other.

How does this translate to teaching? Here’s a quick run-through:

Art: Science.

There is a science to learning; it’s not magic. Our brains behave in certain ways that suggest some teaching approaches are more likely to be effective than others in given contexts. We can form models of learning processes that stand up to scrutiny and there’s a massive body of research that coheres around some common concepts.

At the same time, teaching does not consist of a series of discrete, isolated testable strategies. There’s a multi-layered complexity of interactions and decisions driven by the reality of having a class of individuals to teach at the same time. Teaching is nearly always a blend of multiple factors: relationships, behaviour routines, instructional techniques, questioning, practice – all interacting with the specific elements of the curriculum content. As evidence-informed as we might be, the process can feel more art than science: we are busking, responding, riffing, exploring, creating… Some teachers need to work on their science; some need to develop their art.

System: Culture

Schools are awash with systems – for behaviour management, quality assurance, assessment and feedback, professional development. At the same time, schools are also a complex mix of cultures and subcultures: among groups of staff and students, in each classroom. You can’t simply wish a ‘high trust culture’ into being – there won’t be a trust culture if the systems are heavy-handed and communicate something more like: we don’t trust you. You can’t talk about a ‘culture of learning’ unless you are doing specific things that provide a structure of that culture to come into being. At the same time, as we all know, the reality of school life is all about human interactions and, because we are not machines, systems only work if the culture is there to sustain them – so people do the right things right when nobody is looking because they believe in them or at least fully accept them.

Spirit: Letter

If we try to break down an aspect of teachers’ practice – like strong behaviour management or effective formative assessment – identifying specific identifiable tasks to codify ‘effectiveness’, we end up with what might be a checklist of ‘things everyone should do’. However, very often, the sum of the parts doesn’t seem to add up to the whole.

You might find a teacher who is ‘doing the right things’ to the letter, but the spirit is missing. This means that they might not be sustaining the practice or responding intuitively to events or adapting the approach to secure better responses from students. They might be OTT with students in the way they enact routines for classroom discipline, misjudging the spirit of a behaviour code even if they would argue they are following it to the letter. They might consider that a few set-piece activities constitutes ‘doing formative assessment’ rather than seeing it as a broader approach that influences every interaction.

I’ve always felt it is important to avoid boiling things down to reductive tick lists wherever possible; the letter of a policy is a guide but the spirit is what really matters. For example, a ‘knowledge-rich’ curriculum can’t be boiled down to some knowledge organisers and related quizzes. That would be missing the point entirely. Knowledge-rich has implications for a whole set of values and practices that inform every lesson every day. However, sometimes an idea is too intangible to implement effectively without some definable concrete elements for people to work on. You need to start somewhere. The ‘spirit’ can be a nebulous hope in the absence of something solid.

Tacit: Explicit

This is an area I feel needs more attention. It has echoes in Martin Robinson’s Trivium 21c where the dialectic has value alongside grammar. A great curriculum contains knowledge gains through experience: authentic, real-world, hands-on experience. In science for example, there is declarative knowledge to gain about how a motor works; there is procedural knowledge you can gain through practising rearranging equations to determine measurable quantities – but all of that makes a lot more sense if students have tacit knowledge gained through experience of handling motors, making motors, exploring the electromagnetic and mechanical variables involved. The same goes for chemical reactions or growing plants. There is value in putting your face into a meadow of grass to see the world of life that lies within… tacit knowledge about plant and bug-life that makes the theory of ecosystems come off the page.

Tacit knowledge is vital – and is often assumed; taken for granted. The same goes for poetry, history, music,… any subject. In maths, ‘playing’ with numbers, patterns and shapes informs procedural, operational routines. Very often, students with low confidence in maths have very weak schema for numbers at the tacit level – that sense of scale, pattern, sequence that good mathematicians have an intuition for. Unless we pay attention to that concretely, we’re building on very weak foundations. Knowledge elements can seem isolated and arbitrary until they take shape in a wider schema held together with a glue of tacit knowledge gained from experience. We need to make sure the opportunities for children to gain those experiences are built into our enacted curriculum within and beyond the classroom.

Knowledge: Emotion

This links to the art:science and tacit: explicit axes but adds another dimension. As highly emotional beings, our memories and the relative value we give to elements of knowledge are shaped by the way we feel about them. Every person, every teacher I know has passions. Great teachers communicate enthusiasm for the knowledge they have; it’s not neutral information. The idea that joy, awe and wonder are somehow icing on the knowledge cake doesn’t quite work for me – the icing is melted into the cake; it runs through it..(metaphor mixing ,sorry). For me, when we’re teaching, there is power in always exploring why any element of knowledge matters. This isn’t some lame functional idea of ‘relevance’ that leads us down a utilitarian path. Far from it. It’s about exploring our emotional connection to the stories that unfold the more our knowledge grows – and the more our awareness of how much more there is to know grows. This is how curiosity and creativity develop – through knowledge linked to emotions. For me, the image of the Hubble Ultra Deep Field can bring tears to my eyes if I think about what it means: it’s just so deeply profound.

I put ‘Awe’ in amongst my 10 features of ‘great lessons’ . Knowledge can be functional; dry; prosaic; ordinary. But it can also be earth-shatteringly beautiful. What’s the point or learning X? There is always a point, a purpose, a reason that goes beyond the purely functional.

Values: Evidence

Finally, there is an axis around the interplay between our values and evidence in relation to what makes teaching effective and in the decisions we make in designing the curriculum. I’m a firm advocate of teachers developing ‘evidence-informed’ wisdom so that they are best placed to make good decisions in the heat of the complexity of classroom interactivity. We need to understand about schemas and cognitive load theory; that retrieval practice works for strengthening recall; that fluency requires practice; that spaced practice is important for long-term memory – and so on. I firmly reject the idea that ‘anything goes’.

However, we also need to understand that wisdom comes from experience – and includes knowledge of our students and ourselves. We are who we are; we can all improve but in seeking to teach like champions, we will always have personality and our own values; our hearts on our sleeves. If I want you to stand up and read poetry by heart- there is no evidence that tells me this is ‘an effective strategy in order to secure deeper understanding’ .. No. I am asking you to do it because, guided by my values and experience, I believe this to be a ‘a good thing that will enrich your soul’.

As evidence-driven as schools should be, it’s always part of the contract between schools and parents that “teachers will impose their values on your child”. We have no choice; it’s going to happen. The thing is to be explicit about what these values are and to seek as much alignment within a school community as possible. As a Head I used to say things like “at this school we teach that evolution is a fact…because it is!” I wanted this to be very clear. I would also make statements about work ethic and discipline and the curriculum much of which would values-driven more than evidence-based. Values matter – they are not some wishy-washy notion that impedes the flow of evidence; they are always part of how evidence is sought, filtered and mediated. The important thing is to recognise the bias-fest that constitutes research-engagement and be honest about it.

Along every axis, there is a context-specific sweet spot where the right balance is struck. But neither end is ‘right’ or ‘good’ compared to the other. It’s never either/or; it’s never a choice – it’s always both; always a blend; always a symbiotic synthesis. Not resolved but in tension; in equilibrium. Let’s embrace that. It’s what makes teaching so great!

Art-Science and other positive tensions that fuel great teaching. published first on https://medium.com/@KDUUniversityCollege

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bornfromscarletcords · 6 years

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A Wolf’s Compassion

Hello I am Shane Daniels, I have wolf’s blood. I don’t really come from a pack, so I’m not really sure what or why I am the way I am, but my family said I could be something called a Vaugre. They aren’t wolves so their knowledge on the subject is limited, but they said it’s something like a werewolf or one of those native american shifters. Every once in awhile I get a little more wolfish than the average kid, but mostly I’m just like everyone else, or maybe I’d like to be. I don’t have many friends, but the ones I do have are pretty awesome. I’m thirteen, my hair gets pretty wild sometimes but mostly I keep it short...ish. My skins pretty dark so although I don’t really remember them I’m guessing my bio-parents were too...maybe. I guess I’m of average height for my age, whatever that means, and though I don’t mean to my eyes are typically gold in color, though if I concentrate I can sort of make them look honey colored or something. Most people don’t pay attention to them for too long, partly because something in me sort of forces their attention away but I also read somewhere that if people find something that’s too traumatic or causes too much stress, even if mundane, they’ll sort of just edit it out of their brains or something. I mean I know the eyes are disconcerting, but if anyone actually told me they could see a little too much of an inner animal in them I might wear glasses or something. So far, the number of complaints were few in number, which unfortunately was likely to do with fear, but there is a type of hierarchy to these things, rabbits eat the leaves larger rabbits with sharper teeth and better ability to hide eat the littler rabbits, then hawks or something eat them and so on and so forth until god eats everyone or something and poops out paradise.

My adopted mother, is an Enchantress, which means that even by conventional human standards she’d be pretty, but with the veil of her aura unsuppressed she’s more or less gorgeous. I’d say super model pretty but that’d be slightly misleading, you’d have to embrace somewhat murky or occasionally frowned upon ideas about pheromones, bestial adaptation around belief, sexy math, and something like hypnosis. From what she told me her people aren’t unlike the Sirens, or mermaids of old, though they typically don’t attract waywards sailors to their doom, not that they couldn’t. Enchanters draw a lot of power from their voices, and besides having an unusual capacity to comprehend languages, they are great singers and can more or less work miracles simply by speaking strongly or powerfully. With this said, you should sort of understand why saying they’re simply really pretty is a dangerous underestimation, most people would probably see them as something close, but just variant enough to the ideal of the perfect sexual or love companion. Someone that would in a manner of speaking improve their legacy and their present by impossible strides. Almost like those pictures of angels or roman gods, who don’t always match contemporary ideals of what is attractive but who meld seamlessly into the style of the picture. Oh the first cavemen who chanced on their pleasing curves and soft flesh must of died, gone to heaven, and clawed his way back to earth because they were that much better.

My adopted mother’s name is Esme, Esmeralda Daniels if you want the whole thing. She has red hair a bit on the short side, it sort of stops around her ears, most people say its charming. She’s a bio-engineer, and works at one of the most prestiges facilities in the city, but more relevantly, in the country at least that’s what other people tell me. She has freckles and green eyes which are nearly as startling as my own, though most people are attracted by hers rather than repelled.

My mom is busy more often than she’d like to be though I will say even a couple of hours with her is pretty worthwhile, she always has the best stories and games. Still I suppose you could say she has cash to burn, so she spares not expenses when it comes to the safety of those she cares about. So our household has something like a bodyguard, or kill-maid, or something. Her name is Rachel, and she has dark skin, and hair of a similar coloring. She looks like she could pass for native american or south american or something, but mom said something about her being from one of the pacific islands or something. Rachel is one of The Hunters, a race or order or band or whatever of supernaturally skilled trackers and enders of quarry both mundane and otherworldly. Generally speaking their excellent martial artists, but their true extraordinary-ness lies in their miraculous capacity for tracking, trap making, and manipulation of people and circumstances to end their targets. They rarely settle and are seldom far from others of their kind unless on a pilgrimage or responding to some natural, or unnatural disaster. With this said, it was strange that Rachel had agreed to settle for babysitting on an Enchantresses payroll, but when I pressed Esme about it, she said that Rachel owed her. It’s weird that Rachel owed her but she was the one getting paid, but the supernatural rarely makes conventional sense.

I’ve only really seen Rachel’s hunter, gene, aura, magic, call it what you want, activate a couple of times, but it was always pretty dazzling and vaguely terrifying. She sort of ignites and these markings sort of flash around her and the space near her like some type of armor, except the markings look alive, like souls or something. Rachels always very fast, very strong, and very smart, but something about her hunter’s, or huntress’s activation just pushes that from the interesting into the almost impossible. You know how when you’re playing skeeball at an arcade or something, and you keep almost hitting the hundred pointer but it just keeps rolling away. Well it’s that extra nudge of biomechanical harmony that is the difference between you going home with a measly tail of tickets and a whole damn roll of them. Rachel’s activation was sort of like that, maybe she was just a tad stronger, a tad faster, a tad smarter, but it was that extra push, paired with an ability to shut out all the nonsense of the world to really harmonize those abilities as if they were more important than breathing which sort of accelerated her into almost unstoppable goddess of the hunt mode. To really bring it home, it’s like her critical chance and critical damage modifiers were maxed temporarily but effectively maxxed out.

I’ll admit, being what many might call a pseudo animal, I was a little on edge when my mother explained that my babysitter was actually an otherworldly beast killer. She explained that although some hunters killed supernatural creatures indiscriminately there were also those who only culled the evil or too dangerous or too stupid to be allowed to live. Rachel was of the latter variety, mostly. The important part of that conversation was that she avoided the harm of children whenever possible. There was some tension between us at first, with Rachel being, rigid, generally abrasive, and vaguely condescending, and me being, a little more often than usual I might add, a wolf. Eventually, after both of our non human internal defense systems found a means to communicate without threat of death, we became pretty good friends; as things were, hunter’s need to burn off energy nearly as much as vaugre do, and Rachel and I love going for runs. Rachel’s pretty attractive, I mean not your conventional knockout, but she was fit, and capable, and it was hard not to find a certain appeal after watching those tender almost perfect loping strides of hers. Seeing all that muscle and dark flesh gyrating at inhuman harmonies, ay dios mio.

I have a sorta sister, sorta because she’s Esme’s daughter which makes her my adopted sister, but also because she’s a major bitch. I mean I like her, enough to preserve her existence, and I know that if I kill her I should make it look like an accident, so that others don’t have to suffer more, she’d appreciate that in her twilight years of the afterlife. Diana, is an enchantress like Esme, but although they share the same powers and skills, my sorta sister does not have the savy or experience her mother to know how or why to utilize them to their fullest potential. So mostly she just wastes them on getting compliments from boys or making them give her stuff. She’s attractive, as in otherworldly did we just stumble on eve herself attractive, but that’s sort of par for the course for enchantresses who were coming into their abilities. Diana is fifteen but I’m pretty sure she could convince most of the men in the city to abandoned their wives or at least forget them for a while. She wouldn’t even need her voice to do it, her presence was typically enough to give most people pause. She wasn’t a couch potato, but she didn’t exactly enjoy Rachel and I’s somewhat extreme regimen for outdoor jogging, she preferred hiking, which required a little more vigilance and caution, but most importantly slow and steady trekking. She wears glasses but I have no idea if she actually needs them or just think they make her look cute or something. She has electric blue eyes, long dark hair which is more straight than not, and a viking woman’s disposition about nearly everything. Her and Esme don’t always get along, well rarely if ever get along, but it wasn’t always like that. In wolf packs as the pups come of age there is sort of a natural bio-social event which takes place; the more mature wolves sort of have to rearrange the structure slightly to make room for the pups without coddling them or ignoring their superiority if the latter is the case. What was happening with Esme and Diana did not seem entirely different, though I suppose you could say it was just all about growing up or mothers and daughters or some other less awesome example. Diana had a bad habit of blaming me for the growing schism between her and her mother, and I used to argue with her about it, but she’s pretty good at avoiding responsibility and hurting a person with the conventional or invisible things. So now I just go quiet, and a break or rearrange her stuff when she’s not looking.

Diana and I used to go to the same school but now she goes to high-school. I suppose Esme will send me with her after I graduate from middle school, which will happen at the end of the year, but to be honest, I’m not entirely chipper about having to deal with older, grosser, more emotionally unstable versions of the kids I already know. I don’t mind my current classmates but there’s definitely a distance between most of us. Humans always seem to tune into the least helpful frequencies when around an other-wordly creature even if they don’t know they’re around one. Either they put themselves in unnecessary danger, or the ones who would most likely help them in vaguely compromising positions. In short most have very weak or non existent defenses. My inner wolf has trouble tolerating inefficient use of energy, and general stupidity, to dangerous “I might start clawing people in the face” levels of intensity. So not surprisingly I have to be careful about the type of people I surround myself with.

As things are my core friend group consists of Chris, Bethany, and Edward. Chris and Bethany are twins and though people say boy and girl twins aren’t supposed to look the same these two look pretty similar, which was probably why Chris always cuts his hair short and Bethany tends to keep hers long. They have brown hair which occasionally looks like autumn leaves, and startling blue eyes like a glacier glowing in the moonlight, or arctic fires. They both wore glasses, Bethany’s were squared but Chris’s typically were circular, and their fashion sense was almost perversely similar. They said they didn’t mean to, and at first you started to doubt it, but then they’d reach for a door at the same time, or start finishing eachother’s sentences, or start juggling objects with one another without out speaking or looking at one another. It makes me less surprised at the suspicion people regarded twins with during the early stages of man’s civilization; they were some creepy bastards. Chris and Bethany are wizards, which means they do spells and stuff. The difference from witches, in general, being that most of their spells do not require the life energy of other creatures. They tried to explain it to me before but I’ll admit it’s hard to keep track of, their magic is more phantom like than a witch. Put another way “Wizards are more like dead people” they explained to me. It was a little wierd but that made it make a little more sense, wolves’ from what I could feel and had been told, weren’t unlike dead people themselves.

Edward is a Champion, and no that doesn’t mean people give him medals for being a unique snowflake. Champions as I’ve come to understand them, are sort of like knights but with more magical origins. Like with enchantresses and beauty Champions radiate competence, strength, inspiration to their friends, and fear to their enemies. Remember how I said hunters have this wierd activation armor thing, well I’ve seen something similar on Edward, except it’s almost always there, he just hides it a little. It’s like this golden cloak or suit of mail. If you touch him the wrong way it sort of zaps you, and even if it doesn’t down right repel you it makes his skin feel about as hard as stone, not unlike my skin when my wolf is raging or the moon is full. Edward has wild red hair which runs on the shaggy side down to his shoulders. His eyes are blue but more like the morning sky than the twins’. He hides how much he likes to really cut loose and play, his parents are all about discipline and nobility, but whenever there's a good game of kickball or a playground brawl brewing he’s all but bounding towards it.

My friends’ parents are otherworldly like them but that doesn’t mean they’re best buds with Esme or each other. They all sort of know one another but the bridging of boundaries isn’t always so easy for adults, too much learned hate and survivalist’s reservation. Oh well, if we were all exactly like the ones who raised us, things probably wouldn’t change.

Speaking of change we got a new classmate, her name is Hannah. She’s wolf blooded like me. I knew something was off about her when she walked into the classroom I just couldn’t tell what it was. Then I sniffed her, and I knew almost instantaneously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hannah said to me.

“I do too, you smell like wolf, like me but different, girly and like you-ish or something.” I told her.

“Look I came here to stay away from trouble, my aunt doesn’t want me hanging out with dangerous people and other wolves are dangerous.” Hannah said.

“So you admit it. Well, you won’t have to worry about that too much, not too many wolves around here, so far I was the only one as far as I know, until you showed up.” I said.

“Well fine, leave me alone then.” Hannah said.

“What, no that’s dumb, there’s safety in numbers.” I said

“Didn’t you just here me, i’m not supposed to be around other wolves.” Hannah said.

“Yeah but I’ve never been in a pack or seen another...well my mom calls them Vaugre. So I’m sort of just like a really wierd special person. Your aunt didn’t say anything about hanging out with them right?” I said.

“Vaugre? If heard aunty use that term before, umm… I guess you have a point. We should spit on it.” Hannah said. She spit into her hand and held it out for him.

“Mom says witches use spit and stuff for magic.” I said.

“I’m not a witch and neither is my aunty. We could arm wrestle instead, I’ll use my other hand.” Hannah said. I thought about it for a second and spit into my hand, clasping her’s tight.

“Nah, this is fine. Want to hang out with us at recess.” I said nodding to my friends.

“Yeah that sounds fun.” Hannah said.

Hannah is blonde, with long curly hair like a horses mane or something. She is shrewd and inquisitive though not in a bad way, just in like a very thorough pointed way. She must get that from her aunt, who is a new detective in the city. She has freckles and blue eyes that get even brighter and bluer the closer her wolf is to the surface. Her body always seems to be hot like mine, something about our metabolism or how our blood boils or something. We aren’t as bad as Chris and Bethany but for one reason or another we’re pretty in tune with each other’s feelings and actions. She said it had something to do with our wolves and the need for pack, and that makes sense. In short sometimes we’re like two peas in a pod, a great team, and other times we’re nearly about to kill each other, more or less arguing about who came up with an Idea first, or who did more work than the other. Still that’s pretty fun too, she really knows how to wrestle. I try not to be too rough with Chris because his body’s not as durable as mine, Edward is interesting to fight, but something’s off about how my wolf gets when our jostling too and fro gets a little too deadly. Wrestling with Hannah seems just right, our wolves know just how to bite or scratch or pin the other, they get to run freely as beasts. I’m not sure if other kids find her pretty, but to me she always seems too wolfish to limit to more human definitions of appeal. Sometimes she looks like a scion of wildness, or temptation in the form of divine art; my attraction almost magnetic. Other times she looked like a hell beast coming for my soul, though even then I felt a certain heated stirring in my stomach which made me kind of want to lick her face or something.

Having another wolf around made me a bit bold, and so I decided to convince her into going to talk to a vampire. Alysha Shabazz, was one of the local baddies in the neighborhood. Most people of the otherworld were questionable to say the least when it came to their inhuman activities, but many adhered to certain ideas of heroism, lesser badness, or some type of grey straddling. Alysha Shabazz was more or less an evil woman. I rarely saw her as most people tried to stay out of her way, lest they become her next meal, and she didn’t seem to have much interest in the city folk. She seemed to be of indian descent, eastern hemisphere, and most of her beautiful cinnamon skin and luscious curves were wrapped up in scarves and fabrics. Her hair was supposedly very long and pleasing to the eye but I’d only seen it once, tied in a braid down her back. She’d been stalking some human couple that night. Most people wouldn’t have noticed her, but my inner wolf had a way of spotting other predators. We didn’t see her make the kill, or if she fed on them at all, but we also didn’t get in her way. Law of the jungle, stay smart, stay strong, and you survive long enough to change what you need to. Getting in the way of a blood lusting vampire was not smart. She did give me cookies once, and like pet me around the ears, once as a human the other time when I was more wolfish. Most people mistake me for a dog or like a savage looking boy when the inner beast is a little more outer but Alysha seemed to have no trouble spotting the difference. She even called me by name though it was low enough to escape human detection. She seemed sweet, and dangerous. Most people left her alone because, one, she kept worser baddies at bay, and two fighting a powerful vampire tended to be a quick path to a painful slow death.

Anyway Hannah was slow to get on board, but I could see her wolf having trouble letting me go on my own, and her slippery slide into rebelliousness seemed to be igniting into a very endearing set of habits. Long story short, we sort of broke into Alysha’s house. We were pretty careful about it, Hannah’s very good at picking locks and I made sure no one saw us go in. We snooped around, well sniffed and listened around. It was simple but cozy as far as houses go, and there was a lot of carpet which does wonders for our paws, not that we wolfed out their, it was just interesting to note. We did spend a couple of moments rolling around on the rugs though, it was just so comfortable and it scratched all the right places, but our arrogance got the better of us, because that was when the despicable Alysha descended upon us. Well it was more like she opened the door, groceries in hand to two neighborhood delinquents. That was it, I thought to myself, this...is the end. Then she made us dinner and soup and told us stories and jokes and stuff, she’s a very nice lady and I’m not just saying that because the upper folds of her dress kept sliding apart so certain lucious rounded fleshy parts became more visible...or because her food was gourmet status. Hannah told me she was worried Alysha might have put her blood in it or something, but I didn’t care it would have been the most delicious blood i’d ever tasted. Apparently Alysha had been a member of the local clan of Enchantresses, but like way way back in the day, like a couple of centuries ago. Which means she like knew Esme’s ancestors or something. She like fell in love with some weird dude, or needed to save her sister or something and so she became a vampire to be with him...or to be powerful enough to like help someone or something. It was all very riveting when she told us, I just can’t remember word for word, some tales are like that. Anyway her Enchantress abilities didn’t leave her like some people in her clan said they would, though they were altered slightly. She gave me a kiss on the head before rubbing my hair and giving me a hug. She gave Hannah a strong handshake and a salute and sent us both on our way. It was awesome.

#Wolves Construction Magic Hopes Happiness

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careergrowthblog · 6 years

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Art-Science and other positive tensions that fuel great teaching.

When you look at this image, what do you see: a grid surrounded by a cloud or a cloud with a grid inside?

How does this translate to teaching? Here’s a quick run-through:

Art: Science.

System: Culture

Spirit: Letter

Tacit: Explicit

Knowledge: Emotion

Values: Evidence

Art-Science and other positive tensions that fuel great teaching. published first on https://medium.com/@KDUUniversityCollege

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