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lord-jen-grey · 2 years

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For the writing ask — 17, 29, 72! ☺️

The questions are: Do you have a writing routine? What is something about your writing that you're proud of? What is your favorite writing compliment you've gotten?

Of course, I couldn't keep it short like the questions probably intended.

It felt kinda obnoxious to write some of these, but I wanted to be honest and own my wee space. Enjoy.

17. Do you have a writing routine?

I suppose I have a few routines. Routines for story creation, chapter development, and writing process.

Routine for story creation:

I usually start with the end of the story first. The purpose of it. I try to ask myself what I generally want my readers to be left with when they finish that last chapter.

I make notes on transformations I want characters to undergo and ideas of how I can imagine them getting there. Is there a personal struggle they need to overcome? (Like P.I. Jamie and his self-destructive guilt.)

I take images or scenes that spring up in my mind and jot down notes on those emotional moments and how I would like to see them play out.

I outline the most major events, and each one of those events is a chapter. I truly like each chapter of my fics to be their own story within a story.

I then take those events and develop a working outline. A map. At least 1 whole page per chapter. I plug all the pieces together on that outline, laying the foundation for the purpose, character transformations, and emotional moments FROM THE BEGINNING. This part feels very much like a puzzle that I'm breaking apart and putting back together. It's very satisfying when the pieces all fit.

The reason I leave extra space on each chapter page in my notes is that I add details as the story progresses. Ideas spring up all the time, and I leave myself room to make the story more interesting and robust as I go. I jot down poems, jokes, small events, phrases, tropes, I want to play with as I go. So, while I have a structure to the story, I allow for significant flexibility within that structure. Sometimes, it takes a lot of problem-solving to make sure it all comes together.

My routine for each chapter:

I review the outline/map, then sit for a few minutes (or hours or days or weeks or months) and decide exactly what it's going to look like.

Then I plow through, forcing myself to write. To just put words on paper. My first draft is usually a mess.

My second draft cleans things up and makes them pretty.

Depending on the length of the thing, sometimes I'll leave it for the next day before I post it or submit to a beta.

I rarely use a beta because A) despite what one might think by my meticulous planning, I'm not a perfectionist and can shrug off mistakes B) I hate pressuring or inconveniencing anyone to read over my work in a specific time frame & C) I get too excited to post to hold out for someone else to read it.

After the relief of posting a chapter, I usually crash for a few hours/days/weeks (depending on how draining it was).

Then I start all over again.

My routine for sitting down to write:

Procrastinate with snacks, WhatsApp, and Twitter.

Research rabbit holes.

Get stuck on ONE SENTENCE for far too long.

Power through and write a TON of words in a few hours (usually super late at night when my kids are asleep).

Read over my work out loud and with bad accents.

Put on AO3 as a draft.

Read it over once more.

Then do it all over again until the fic is done.

29. What is something about your writing that you're proud of?

How about a few things?

I take an awful lot of pride in the variety of stories I write, different genres, different themes, different techniques.

I take pride in my humor and filthy puns. My Jamie Sperms story makes my soul happy in a way you may never understand.

I like the way I characterize Jamie, Claire, and John.

I feel like I am pretty decent at creating complex stories and (hopefully) sweeping the reader away into a little universe I've created (with canon's assistance). I actually feel like this might just be my greatest strength.

I think I write pretty freakin good sex. Realistic sex.

I take pride in my productivity and completing stories, even if it takes me a year or more. I've posted 1.5 million words on AO3, and I think that's pretty awesome.

I think I'm pretty decent at making things sound pretty when I want to.

I think my stories balance angst, humor, fluff, and smut fairly well.

A b*tch is humble too lolololol

72. What is your favorite writing compliment you've gotten?

There have been a few.

I really like the ones that start with "Your mind..." I spend so much time in my mind, it's really fun to let people in and see the sights.

I love the comments about how my story has changed a person's life. I've had a few people tell me my story helped them embrace their sexuality and made it a safe place to come out to family or friends.

I love when people tell me they use specific chapters of specific fics to go back and self-pleasure (en-freaking-joy, my friends).

My dear friend (before we were friends) left me a bullet pointed comment once that was a joy to read through.

I love when people make jokes in my comments. I try hard to share a few laughs, and when people do the same for me, I truly enjoy it. Give me all the puns pls.

I love when people get the overall picture and complexity of what I'm attempting to do and tell me they appreciate it.

I think the best compliment I've ever received that that I opened a person's mind up to enjoying something they didn't think they'd like before. I love it SOOO much.

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mrbexwrites · 1 year

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Memento Mori is finished!! Well, the first drafts at least! But that’s me been able to get the four arcs out of my head, and written. Now comes the arduous task of re-reading and editing the story of Morgana Dodds and the Millennium Citizens! I started this back in 2021 with Part III: Sit Tua Terra Levis for NaNoWriMo, and it was honestly the easiest NaNo I think I’ve ever done. The words just flowed from me, and I smashed the 50K word count (end total: 59077 words). I struck while the iron was hot, and quickly wrote Part I: Mors Immatura over the festive period and into early 2022 (41819 words) and then Part : Summun Nec Matuas Diem Nec Optes in Summer 2022- mostly a week in July when I had some time off work- ending up with a word count of 52876. Part II and IV were the hardest to write for me, as I a) wrote out of sequence, which is something that I don’t do normally, b) pantsed the hell out of the plots, which upsets me as a total planner, and c) both of these stories went completely off-piste for what they were originally supposed to be ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So, here I am, just finished the first draft of Part IV: Memoria De Valens Vivat Tamque Vestri (57855 words) and I hope I’ve done Morgana proud in telling her story. I’ll take a break, mentally prepare myself for editing, and maybe make a start on my next WIP, or dig through some old fics, and see about doing some rewrites. I learned a lot about myself as a writer with MM: it’s the first story that I’ve written in first person, out of sequence, and have winged without setting up a a load of research and plot-points. Are there parts that I’m not happy with?

Of course!

But I’m hoping that editing (boo!) will help me work out those pesky plot wrinkles. I know now that I don't have to have everything figured out, not everything has to be perfect with my writing, and I think this project has allowed me to focus on writing, rather than the planning of a story- which is something that I tend to get myself bogged down in! If you’ve read this far into my unhinged ramblings; thanks! I just wanted to mark the occasion for my own posterity! And give myself a wee pat on the back, because, honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever get to this point!

And with that- I’m off to drink some water, stretch my wrists, and take a break from typing!

-M.R. Bex :)

#talking to myself #memento mori #writblr #Morgana Dodds #I need a lie down and a nap

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pearlcaddy · 3 years

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jukebox love language: tippy toes for @ourstarscollided

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boardlatex38 · 3 years

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christinefoley · 3 years

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How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

I’ve been a teacher for nearly thirty years now, and so I should be red hot at knowing how to manage time. After all, the average classroom teacher regularly has so many plates spinning on a daily basis that every limb is a whirling blur in perpetual motion. Experience has taught me that allowing even one plate to go gyrating off its axis can bring chaos and catastrophe for the whole delicately balanced collection.

Blogging

But this blogging malarkey- well, that’s different. And I’m finding the whole issue of time management more challenging than I’d anticipated, to be completely honest. I mean, thinking about the whole idea of becoming a blogger was…well- just fantastic, really. I love writing, and blogging means that I can write about stuff that really interests me, and never again have to write about things that just don’t.

Primary School Teacher

To clarify what I’m talking about, you may not know this, but the average primary school classroom teacher is obliged to take an interest in such mind-numbing subjects as: rocks and soils, units of measure ( both metric and imperial), adverbial phrases and subordinating and coordinating conjunctions. Admit it- you’re bored already! Imagine having to feign interest in that lot- and a whole host of even more boring topics besides- for nearly thirty years! I don’t know how I’ve done it!

Working From Home

So, what I thought was: become a blogger: write about interesting things, things that get my fingers positively sparking over the laptop key board: it’ll be great! Hey- and you get to do it from home, and manage your own time! Goodbye M6! Goodbye difficult parents! Ta-ta to staff meetings and professional development and tedious meetings about assessment. No more report writing- hurray!!

This will be the new pattern of my Week

Monday morning: awakened at 7am by the alarm- no more 6:30 for me anymore! Up, dressed, breakfast and ready at my laptop to report for writing duty by 8:30 am at the latest.

Straight into writing/ preparing next blog post.

Timetable

9:30 am: take first break: wee, coffee, throw the ball for the dog in the garden for around 20 minutes, then back to the keyboard to work steadily through until lunch at around 12:00.

12:00 healthy lunch put together: salad, hummus, green stuff- that sort of thing- and eaten before 1pm before returning to the laptop for another hour’s work. That hour will be spent emailing, and suchlike.

FREE TIME!

2pm-5:00 FREE TIME! Wow! The whole afternoon off!!

Obviously ,this precious time will not be frittered away on any kind of pointless activities: no, it will be utilised for exercise, dog-walking and attending classes that I’ve really wanted to attend but have always been otherwise occupied teaching PE, the Egyptians or subordinate clauses or suchlike. No, now I will spend my afternoons attending French conversation sessions, singing, creative writing workshops and book clubs. I may even join a hiking club and enjoy hiking in the nearby Lake District.

5pm: teatime. Evenings will be spent working on my blog business- no more than an hour or so- and then I’ll actually go out: live music, pubs, the theatre, meals out- whatever I want, because there are no lessons to plan for the next day- and certainly no marking. Fantastic!!

Manage Time?

It’ll be a joy! No more telling myself I’ll do an hour’s marking, then I’ll fill in those assessment tables and then I’ll spend another hour and half preparing tomorrow’s lessons, before……..NO MORE, No more for me!

So, you’re asking, has it worked out like that?

Well, the fact is that I’m still teaching at the moment, so haven’t had the chance to try out this new lifestyle which I have planned out for myself just yet; but I’m having this creeping suspicion that I’m not going to be able to live that life exactly to plan.

Deadlines

Why not? Well, I guess I kind of like deadlines- I am programmed to respond to them anyway. I was always that one who started working on my essays well before the deadline at university, so that I had plenty of time. I was never the last minute panic type-no, I kind of used the whole two weeks preparation time to get pages of notes together and then panic over the last few days about how I was going to create anything of any value out of all that stuff.

Being My Own Boss

What worries me now, is that, as a blogger, working on my own blog, I am going to have to impose my own deadlines, and I’m not convinced that I’ll be all that good at it. It’s that thing about being my own boss- in one way, it’s what we dream of, but in another way it’s kind of scary. I mean, when you’re at work and things go tits up, the boss is ultimately the one who has to take it on the chin- not you. But if you are your own boss, and things don’t go right- well……it’s all your fault.

How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

So, before I cut the umbilical cord of a regular job and life pattern, I’ve been researching some hints and tips from the experts about time management- I’m in my note-taking preparation stage.

Find Your Most Productive Hours

Now, there’s a great idea! Work out when you are generally at your most productive and schedule most of your heavy lifting tasks for those times. A first rate tip for time management- after all, how many people have you heard declare themselves a ‘night owl’ or ‘an early bird’? Loads, right?

Night Owl, or Early Bird?

So obviously that got me to thinking about myself: am I a night owl, or an early bird? A night owl, probably, because I’m used to working in the evenings after school. OK, so save all the deep-thinking stuff for the evenings. Yes…..possible, I guess.

Write a to-do List the Night Before

Undeniably a top idea! Apparently, only takes about five minutes and it means that the next day you can hit the ground running without any fiddling about. Hmmm, so- five minutes before bedtime…just a quick list…

You know what that would mean for me? Five minutes writing, followed by 45 minutes lying awake thinking it all through. Sleep well and up at 7:00 am to hit the ground running? Not on your nelly.

Back to the drawing board…next tip for how to manage time, please?

Start on the Most Critical Task First

Yes….now, that’s good….I get that. Get the thing that’s bothering you most out of the way first thing and you’re bound to feel better about yourself and what you can achieve.

Now that makes perfect sense! Thing is….that’s just not me. No, better for me to get a few little things ticked off my list first to get me stoked up with enough confidence to bring out the big guns and get cracking on those tasks that are going to CHANGE MY LIFE.

Sit down at my laptop and hit myself straight between the eyes with something that scares the pants off me and has probably kept me awake ever since I wrote it down on that to-do list the night before? That just ain’t happening.

Next hint, please….

The Eisenhower Matrix

What d’you mean- you’ve never heard of it? Well, I’m not a fan of tables, because they bring out all my twitches, but this one makes perfect sense- you may want to look it up. In essence, the idea is that you write down all the tasks you need to do- in one, long, terrifying list- then you categorise all the tasks. If it’s urgent, mark it ‘U’, if it’s important, mark it ‘I’, and if it’s neither of those, then cross it out.

Still following me?

Next, you evaluate how much time each of the remaining tasks on your list is likely to take and arrange a plan for yourself. Now, I must admit, I’m liking this idea of time management…especially the stuff that you can cross off the list altogether. The aim is to identify your genuine priorities: which tasks on your list are going to get you to achieve your objective the most quickly, and which, simply, are not.

Like it. Yes, this is one for me! Next tip, please…..

Use Time Constraints- Set a Timer

This tip to help you to manage your time advises using a timer to set time to achieve certain tasks, as the task will inevitably expand if there is an unrestrained time in which to do it. The idea is to beat the timer- complete the task in even less time than that which you allocated!

Hmm. Have I not escaped the 5-9 to escape exactly that- time constraints? The school timetable is gone, so I devise one of my own? Not sure I want to do that to myself, although I do understand the benefits of this time management idea, and every task does undoubtedly expand if there are no constraints in terms of time.

Hmm… I need to think this one through…….and while I’m thinking about it I might just make another cup of coffee and put a load of washing on…maybe iron those few shirts? Watch a bit of TV?

No, Christine, you’re talking about being productive, remember? Now, sit down and just get on with it.

Next hint to ace time management, please.

No Distractions

No browsing your ‘phone, checking through emails, doing odd bits of housework. Now I have struggled with this trick of how to manage time, but have actually had a breakthrough in recent weeks.

What has worked for me, is to go out of the house- no dog wanting to play, no endless possibilities for making coffee and no housework-style responsibilities. The other benefit of being out of the house-for me- is no silence.

Silence

I’m not very happy with silence- it makes me a bit edgy. Never been very productive working in libraries and such places. However, it’s no good putting on music either, because then I start listening to that instead of concentrating on the job in hand.

Coffee Shops

I’ve found that coffee shops are my perfect place for productivity. Not only is there the gorgeous aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans wafting up my nose, but there’s just the right kind of background noise- neither too loud nor too silent to distract me. Obviously, a great cup of cappuccino also enhances the whole experience.

If you would like to learn more about how to manage time, and tips that you could use to improve your own productivity, then take a look at this excellent article by Dan Silvestre: ’23 Time Management Techniques of Insanely Busy People.’

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themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

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What the Rain Can’t Wash Away- Chapter 15

*FINAL PIECE IN THE LOOK IN HER EYES TRILOGY*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose and Dean lost his wife, he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

Chapter Fifteen, Of Course She Did

Ava

Four weeks later

Dean was asleep. Sleep had been rare for us in the last few weeks. We all split up. Claire and Jody took one end of the country, going on any lead that Claire could think of. Sam took Jack to the other end of the country, following anything that seemed suspicious. Rowena was working every spell and contact that she had. Dean and I were searching locally, to stay close to the bunker in case she tried to come home. She never did. Castiel hopped in the old truck and drove out to the sandbox which, according to Dean, was a portal to Heaven. I wasn’t sure how Heaven was going to help us, if God was AWOL, but we would take all the help that we could get. Everyone was doing their part.

We didn’t understand how there had been nothing to report in so long, so when Castiel called with news we all rushed back up at the bunker to talk. No matter how much Dean tried to convince him to tell us before he arrived, Cas thought it would be best to be discussed in person.

Dean was asleep, and bless his fucking soul, looking at him made me want to cry. My heart ached for my daughter, for the same little baby who had a pout just like the one that was placed on Dean’s relaxed face as he slept. His eyelashes were still wet from the tears. He wasn’t a crier, but he’d done everything else at this point. He bashed one of the cars with the crow bar, he tinkered with Baby long past the maintenance that she needed, and he drank himself to sleep. We couldn’t find our daughter. She went missing while we were out trying to buy a goddamn bar. We both felt sick about it.

He didn’t blame me, or so he said. He still slept with his arms curled around me, and he didn’t yell, but that was almost worse. We were supposed to be done. It was supposed to be me, Nel, and Dean. We were going to be a family. I never understood how God could allow someone like Dean to be in so much pain. How much did he have to sacrifice before he was done? How much?

I slipped out of bed, sliding out from under his arm. I wouldn’t be gone long, the last thing I needed was to have him wake up alone. I crept out into the kitchen and looked around. I don’t know how to do this. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. Instead, I fell to my knees in the middle of the dark kitchen and clasped my hands together.

“Listen here, God or Chuck. Whoever you are. I know you’re on vacation, but we need to talk. You met me before, remember? I came to your house with Dean when we asked you about the books. Yeah, well, as I’m sure you know, my daughter is missing. Dean’s daughter. I know that you care about him. You’ve saved him so many times. He’s your guy , isn’t he? So just... get your ass down here and make it right. Please.”

“I’m sure he will love hearing that,” a female voice said from the shadows.

I sat up a little straighter, my eyes meeting a set of green ones as a redhead in a long dramatic dress stepped out of the shadow. By her thick accent and fiery hair, I recognized her as Rowena, the witch. “I’m not exactly good at praying,” I said forcing a smile. I stood up, dusting the knees of my black leggings. “I’m Ava.”

“The wife,” Rowena said, eyeing me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Why are you hiding in the shadows?”

“I’m here for the wee one. I just arrived and let myself in.”

It was unsettling to me, how much things changed. Jack, Castiel, Crowley, and now a witch. When Dean explained to me the complicated list of ally’s that we now had, my head spun. He was always shoot and ask questions never . Some things change, I suppose.

“Do you... do you have any leads?” I asked, desperately. I pulled my long sleeved shirt over my hands.

It was mid December. The Christmas lights were blinking all over Lebanon as the town prepared for the Christmas Carnival. We weren’t exactly in a celebratory mood, especially since my last Christmas was spent at the hospital with a newborn and a dead husband. My eyes stung. I wanted to see her, to hold her. I didn’t want to spend her first birthday without her. I wanted to see her turn seventeen.

I always had this idea, that I’d climb into bed with her at midnight on her birthday and cuddle up with her and tell her all about the day she was born. I’d tell her about how strong Sam was, supporting me, and about how beautiful she was. I’d tell her then about how Dean looked the first time he held her. How despite everything, that we were so happy. I’d tell her about when we found out that I was pregnant, and how Dean would talk to my stomach. I’d fall asleep holding her, just like I did when she was little.

Her birthday was so close. I had a bad feeling that we wouldn’t be spending the holiday together.

“I don’t, Ava. I’m sorry. I’ve tried everything I can. The little one is powerfully cloaked. She does not want to be found.”

“How is that possible? She’s just a girl... something must’ve taken her.”

“Or someone,” Castiel’s voice greeted them at the top of the stairs.

I just about jumped out of my skin at the sight of him. “God, you two are so fucking sneaky, you know that?”

Rowena snorted and eyed Castiel. “Hello Angel.”

“Rowena,” Cas said flatly. His eyes looked tired, two purple bags hung under his eyelashes. His whole face looked like it’d aged since the last time I saw him, of course it hadn’t , but the stress was evident. “Where is Dean?”

“He’s asleep. He hasn’t slept at all lately, Cas. I’m worried.”

“He functions off minimal hours.”

“I know that,” I snapped, frustrated. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair for me to be angry with him. I was just angry in general. “But he hasn’t even slept minimally. Let him rest.”

“Is Samuel back?” Rowena asked, curiously.

“Yeah,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “I think I heard him and Jack come in a few hours ago. Jack was talking to Clementine.”

“And Claire?”

“Yes. Her, Jody, and Donna arrived yesterday.”

“Great,” Cas said with a nod. “Get them up. We all have something to discuss.”

“Fine,” I sighed, twisting my wedding ring on my hand. I glanced between the two supernatural beings in front of me.

I went down the hall, gently knocking on the doors that our guests were resting in. Donna was fast asleep, hugging her pillow. She looked up at me with tired eyes and a quick nod, shuffling into her teddy bear slippers. Her blonde hair was sticking up all over the place. “What’s going on?”

“Cas is back, he wants us all to meet in the kitchen. Can you start a pot of coffee? We are all going to need it,” I explained, gripping the edge of the door.

“Oh you betcha,” Donna said, offering an encouraging smile. She met me at the doorway and caught my shoulder in her hand as I turned to leave. I met her eyes once more, they were kind. “We will find your girl, Ava. We always find them.”

I put my hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. I didn’t trust myself to respond without losing the little composure that I had left. She was kind, and I understood why the boys attached themselves to her so tightly.

Jody was still up on her laptop when I went by her room. “Castiel is back. Meet in the kitchen?”

She gave me a quick nod, moving her research supplies off her lap and into her arms.

Claire was sleeping in Nel’s room. She wasn’t happy with me and hadn’t been since Nel disappeared and I dldn’t blame her. I pressed an open palm against the door before knocking softly. There was no answer so I opened the door slowly, only to find Claire curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. She wore one of Eleanor’s sweatshirts from her school, and her hair was back in a messy, haphazard braid. She hugged her pillow tightly. Her cheeks were stained black from crying.

My heart ached for her, because I’d been there. I’d been there more times than I could count. “Claire,” I said gently, touching her hair. “Castiel is back. He has some news.”

The blonde looked up at me with tired eyes, red from exhaustion and crying. “Fine, I’ll be out there.” She moved her head out from under my touch.

“Okay,” I said softly, standing up, my hand returning to my side. I noticed, then, that Jack and Clementine were curled up asleep on the floor at the end of the bed.

“I’ll get him up,” Claire said with a nod. “Go do whatever you need to.”

I gave her a tight lipped smile. It wasn’t about me, she was just afraid, but it still hurt. I always pictured that whoever Nel grew up to be with, that they’d love me. I pictured a lot of things differently than the way that they turned out.

I’d wake Sam, and then the sleeping bear, I decided. I wanted to give Dean all the time to sleep that I could. I knocked on Sam’s door, opening it basically at the same time. “Sam, hey, Cas is back he...”

I didn’t know what I was looking at.

Long dark hair spilled over bare shoulders, Sam’s beard and messy hair looking up at the woman who was straddling him. She was naked and grinding against him. I was not proud of the anger and embarrassment that bubbled up inside of me. Ava fucking get a grip!

I didn’t realize I was staring at him, my eyes locked on his jaw until he turned and caught me. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling the blanket to cover the girl up. He made eye contact with her and moved his fingers a bit before pointing.

She turned to look at me, and I noticed her hearing aid. His girlfriend, of course!

“Cas is here, meet us out in the kitchen whenever you’re done. Nice to meet you, Eileen,” I said tightly as I blocked my eyes from view.

I turned quickly on my heels and let the door click shut behind me. I pressed my back to the door, trying to calm my breathing. What the fuck was that? I needed to relax. As fresh as my wounds were with Sam, they weren’t actually fresh. I wasn’t in love with him, but somehow I still looked at him and felt like he was my Sam . He was my best friend, my hero. He was the one who fixed me when I was broken, so sue me if I wasn’t interested in some hoe coming in. That’s not fair, there’s no way Sam would date some hoe. Eileen is probably delightful. Somehow that was worse.

Dean

I woke up with Ava’s nose brushing against mine, and I thought for just a second that maybe everything was okay. I felt twenty-seven again, snuggled up with the girl I wasn’t supposed to want, but once my eyes opened and the blur of sleep faded, I realized that I was just me. Me in the bunker. Me in this fucking life. I grunted. “Yeah, babe?”

“How are you feeling? Rested?”

I groaned softly, stretching my aching legs. I could sleep more, I definitely could. I could fall back into the world where everything was warm. A world where my kid was safe. Where I wasn’t such a fucking failure. “Kinda.”

“Cas is back,” Ava said softly, her lips brushing the stubble on my chin. “He has news.”

I said straight up in bed. “Fuck, when?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” My heart was racing, my temples pounding. Fucking hell!

“I did, Dean. I just woke you.”

I rubbed my face, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I was unreasonable. I was a dick. “Sorry, I’m just...”

“I know. Me too.”

Eleanor is her daughter, too. Of fucking course she is afraid. The fuck kind of husband am I? I sighed and took her hand. Just because she didn’t raise her, didn’t mean she didn’t care as much. If anything she was being strong for me, which is more than I deserve for getting us in his fucking mess in the first place.

She laced her small fingers within mine, and I gave her a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” she murmured, tugging me closer. She stood up on her toes, and I leaned my head down to meet her. She pressed her forehead to mine, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. “We are going to find her. She’s our girl, Dean. She’s our baby. We are going to find her.”

Ava was trying to be strong, but I could hear her voice threatening to break. There was only so much hurt one person could take. I captured her lips in mine. “I know we will,” I said, hoping to god that I was right.

Castiel stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. He looked fucking beat. Not that the dude slept, but he looked like he needed a nap. “Hey buddy,” I said carefully.

”Hello, Dean.”

Everyone was sitting in chairs, or leaning against the counter around the room. Everyone that we consider family, well, almost everyone. “Where’s Mom?”

“She picked up the scent of another case with Bobby,” Cas said, meeting my eyes. He shook his head briefly.

Of fucking course she did. “Sure,” I grunted, my annoyance obvious. She was always bad at putting family first. She hadn’t exactly been Grandma of the year, so I wasn’t sure what I expected. Everyone was looking to me for guidance. Wasn’t Sam supposed to be the chief, or whatever? I was done being in charge. I was spent. “Alright, Cas, out with it. What’d you find out?”

There was no joy or hope on the angels face, and it left me feeling pretty goddamn empty. He let out a heavy sigh, and it sounded like someone was sitting on his chest. Ava gripped my hand tighter, her spare arm twisted around mine.

“When I went to Heaven the first time, no one had any information. Angel radio has been quiet for awhile. It was essentially turned off since the fall. So I’ve been searching by other means and coming up short. I never understood, though, how a child could be so powerfully warded from me. Especially since we marked her at a young age for her protection. She would be virtually invisible to anyone but me.”

I watched Cas pick his words carefully, his low gravely voice work through the best way to say whatever the fuck he was trying to get out. It worried me that his usual bluntness was being avoided. His news wasn’t good. I could feel it in my gut.

“Cas,” I said to him, and he met my eyes. “Tell me.”

I could feel his gaze burn right through me like sunlight through a magnifying glass. I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry, and my stomach falling through my ass and smacking the floor.

“I spoke to Anael, and she told me what I was afraid to hear. Michael is back. He’s possessing Eleanor.”

I didn’t hear him. It felt like I was underwater. Everything felt muffled. All I could see was the little five year old girl crawling into my bed after a nightmare. My best friend, my little girl with her pigtails and her toothless smile. I felt like I was going to throw up. I released Ava’s grip and turned sending my fist into the wall. There was a deafening crack as the bones in my hands splintered. I fell forward, my legs giving out, only to catch myself with my uninjured hand against the wall. Ava was at my side immediately, holding me up and rubbing my back.

“No,” I grunted. “You’re wrong. She would’ve had to say yes. She never would’ve said yes. She’s smarter than that.”

“She would have,” Claire spoke up. I turned to look at her. Her gaze was hard, fixed, and serious. “She would’ve done it to save you. She is you, Dean. Of course she would say yes.” Her voice was full of hurt, but not surprise. Just a hardened disappointment.

“She shouldn’t have... She... fuck. I’m the parent. She never...” I couldn’t catch my breath, and Sam came to me with a paper bag. I put my mouth to the opening and breathed in and out.

“So what is the play?” Jody asked, standing up from her seated position.

I couldn’t catch my damn breath. I couldn’t hear over the crinkle of the paper bag, but I trusted that Ava was paying attention. This was all too fucking much.

Ava

Castiel had an idea of where Micheal would be. Anael was contacted by Micheal initially, but her loyalties were wobbly at best. We just needed a plan of how we were going to capture him, or get him out of El.

It all got to be too much for Claire, and she walked out, her sleeve covering her eyes. “I just need a minute.”

There wasn’t a good answer, not really. We didn’t want to hurt Nel, and even though Castiel was able to mend Deans broken bones in his hand, he wouldn’t be able to heal any real damage that Micheal could do to her. “She is the perfect vessel. Her psychic abilities make her mind strong, and she is a direct line from John and Dean. She is the next sword. He will not give her up willingly.”

We would fight to the death for her. We would do anything.

“I’m gonna make some more coffee,” Sam said with a sigh, he turned to Eileen and signed something brief to her before she nodded back to him.

I glanced up at the stairs. “I’m going to check on Claire. She’s been gone awhile,” I sighed, standing up.

“I’ll go with you,” Dean said, giving my hip a squeeze.

We walked up the stairs and pushed out into the night. It was really late, or maybe it was really early. I took in a deep breath of the crisp winter air and felt my chest sting and my nose tingle. I needed to lose it. I needed to break down, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong. I folded my arms across my chest, and Dean wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” I asked, my voice not sounded half as strong as I wanted it to. I closed my eyes to try to center myself.

“I’m not, Ave.” He placed a kiss into my hair and buried his face into my curls. “You’re not either.”

A single sob escaped my lips, shook my chest, breaking through. “She’s our little girl, Dean.”

His arms moved up to wrap around my own arms, and he squeezed me gently. He held me tightly, keeping the cracks in my heart from breaking. I gasped a bit and let myself collapse. I cried, my chest shaking, and my head dipping to my chest. It hurt, but letting it out, screaming, sobbing, and digging my nails into my arms.

I let myself relax, when there were no tears left in my body. My eyes were swollen, and my throat stung. I was gasping for breath. “You’re okay, Ave. I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair.

I turned around to face him, and I hugged him tightly. “I love you with my whole heart.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hands rubbing down my back. “Love you with every breath in my body.”

I wiped my eyes and released our embrace to look for Claire. We’d given her enough time. We gave ourselves enough time. Well, at least all the time we could allow.

“Claire?” I called, looking around.

“Biker Barbie? Where ya at?”

The frost on the grass and driveway were undisturbed, and I suddenly had a terrible gut feeling. “Dean?”

He turned to me with a tilt of his head. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think she came out here.”

“Then where is,” he began, before something clicked in his head. I watched his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh son of a bitch!”

He turned on his heels, pulling me back into the bunker. We opened the door to the garage to see a line of cars, all kept pristine. Dean’s speed picked up as he jogged to the end of the line. He saw it before I did, but by his reaction I knew exactly what happened.

“Mother fucker!” Dean shouted, collapsing to his knees, his fists colliding with the concrete ground of the garage.

Claire took the Impala. She was going after Michael.

—————

Chapter Sixteen, Out of My Mind

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sabraeal · 5 years

Text

Flapping Lips

Massively late for the Obiyuki Soundtrack Challenge, but this is for track 2. Part of Go For Broke

Kai’s a good kid; Obi’s never quite been sure exactly what his job title is -- bouncer? butler? bodyguard? Both him and the older guy seem to share whatever job gets thrown at them, all in unironic ascots and tails -- but he leads Obi straight out to the poolside when he arrives, murmuring, “Miss Arluleon has been waiting for you.”

Good thing he wore black today; at least none of these turkeys would see him sweat.

“That so?” he manages, adjusting his hat. “Can’t wait.”

The first time he’d seen the soon-to-be Mrs Izana Wisteria, she’d been splayed on a bunk in the barracks, all legs and sun-kissed skin, blonde hair bobbing over bare shoulders.

The new Betty Grable, Hiro had said proudly, showing off his collection of pin-ups. Obi hadn’t known there was anything wrong with the old one, but there was something about her, barely eighteen and all tits and ass and sunny smile. She’d been the wallpaper of every place he’d bunked down, sharing space with Vargas girls and Rita Hayworth as men talked about their girls back home.

Now’s not the time to think about how most of them never made it.

Obi’s never held a hundred dollars in his life, never even seen Franklin except in school books, but here he is now, standing at the end of million-dollar legs, all 35-22-35 above them wrapped up in a white bikini that would have been an instant favorite in the bunks.

There hadn’t been many good times in the war, but what ones there were, Haki Arluleon was there. She just...doesn’t know that.

Her chin tilts up, and beneath her wide sunglasses and brimmed hat, her lips spread into her signature smile.

“What do we have here?” she drawls, angling herself so the oil on her skin glistens, so that she looks like one of those bronze statuettes her set are so keen to hoard. “Mr Private Investigator, I presume? Izana did tell me you’d drop by.”

She arches a brow, somehow coy and innocent at the same time, and -- ha, maybe she does know about those good times.

“Obi,” he says, taking the hand she offers. Despite the lean curve of her body, her grip is strong; a businessman’s daughter through and though. “No ‘mister’ needed.”

“Obi.” The way her lips wrap around his name is like something out of a Bogart movie. “No last name? How mysterious.”

He grins at that. “A little bit of mystery in this town can go a long way.”

“My my,” she says, too pleased. “I wouldn’t expect that sort of sentiment from a man in your line of work.”

It’s dangerous, this Bogart-and-Bacall banter they have going; it makes him want to like her, want to think that she couldn’t have anything to do with the bad business stinking up this house.

He can’t help himself. “Without it I wouldn’t have much of a job, now would I, Miss Arluleon?”

“A fair point,” she allows with an enigmatic smile. “Though I can’t see why you’d look for one here. There’s nothing mysterious about Wistal.”

He wants to laugh -- even without Wisteria gasping his last with his pretty little nurse-turned-heiress holding his hand, there was probably more than enough dirty laundry in these walls to spend two lifetimes unraveling, let alone for the greenbacks Zen Wisteria waved under his nose.

Hell, everything in Wistal stinks to high-heaven, and here he is, the sucker who wants to believe Haki Arluleon smells like roses.

“Well, someone didn’t feel that way,” he hedges, though by her face, he can tell he might as well have named names for all the secret it was. “And I thought I might as well poke around. You know, since the lady of the house gave me permission.”

Obi’s watching her close, waiting for that smile to waver at the mention of the other woman, but instead that mega-watt smile only grows brighter. The skin around her eyes crinkles, and for one moment, he can tell she’s forgotten to mind her face, to remember that every real smile now is a dime she won’t make later.

“Shirayuki is always so accommodating, isn’t she?” The words are pleasant, but he doesn’t miss the sharp glint in her eyes as she watches him. “Such a doll. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

He catches himself reaching for his shoulder, flexes his hand instead. Obi’s not sure he’d go so far as to say Red’s been accommodating; he’d been surprised by her letter -- or her lawyer’s, really, even if the man swore the permission came from the young miss’s mouth herself -- but he wasn’t about to start calling it altruism.

People got antsy, trying to prove their innocence. Especially the guilty ones.

“She’s sure a lot of something,” he allows, leaning on the lounger. “But I’m not here for her, Miss Arluleon.”

“Is that so?” A curved brow arches over the rim of her sunglasses. “A pity.”

There’s a strange amount of sincerity in that.

She rolls toward him on her lounger, looking attentive. “But I’ll be as helpful as I can.”

“I appreciate it,” he says, wry. “Can you tell me where you were when Kain Wisteria died?”

She tilts her head, like she has to wrack her brain to remember, like she hasn’t already given this statement half a dozen times since the old man rattled out his last and shook all the tinsel in this town with it.

“In bed,” she says finally, slowly. “We’d had quite the late night, Izana and I. A party down at the marina. On Shenezard’s boat, I think. One of them, you know he has something like a dozen. His son was having a little soiree on one of the more...reserved yachts in his father’s fleet.”

Now that’s an interesting tidbit. Not to do with the investigation, of course -- alibis were such fickle things when their owners had the clams to make bodies disappear -- but the tabloids would love to hear something like that: Wisteria Heir Makes Time On Shenezard Pleasure Cruise.

“I didn’t think Izana kept up much with Raj Shenezard.” His father worked for another one of the Big Five, and by all accounts the Prince of Paramount ran with a faster crowd than Izana Wisteria would be caught dead with. “Must have been some party.”

“He puts in his appearances at a few of them, for old time’s sake.” She waves a hand. “And sometimes it’s the only place to catch who you need to see. Even some of the wallflowers come out for a party on a Shenezard boat.”

Obi wouldn’t know, but he nods. “This is the night before.”

“And the wee hours of the morning,” she laughs. “I don’t think we left before one, and by then it was much too late for me to be going all the way back home, so Izana insisted I stay here.”

He quirks an eyebrow. Another thing the supermarket rags would love to hear. “And I suppose this is your fiancé’s alibi as well?”

Without the help of colorists, it doesn’t seem like Haki Arluleon can blush, but she claps a hand to her cheek as if she had. “Why, of course not! I may have spent the night in Wistal, but we stayed in separate beds.”

“Of course,” he allows, wry. “And I’m sure you’re planning to keep that arrangement when you’re married too.”

She presses a hand to her heart, mouth curved to one side. “I live my life by the Hays Code, sir.”

Only because being in her unmentionables doesn’t break it. “Sure you do.”

“Why, I’ve already picked out the nightstand to go between our two singles.” Teeth flash behind red lips. “Mahogany and marble tops all around.”

“Sounds dynamite,” he assures her. “But what about the morning?”

“Asleep,” she tells him, easy. “I don’t think I roused myself before noon. That was when Izana came in and told me --” she gasps, hand pressing to her chest -- “told me that Kain had -- had --” she makes a real show of struggling with the words -- “passed.”

It’s a good show; clear to see why she’s got so many of those metal statuettes at home, even though she’s barely scraping twenty-five, but he didn’t come here for a bunch of lines.

“Can anyone vouch for you, Miss Arluleon?” he asks, watching her dab at the corners of her eyes. He wonders how many of the chuckleheads down at the precinct have been taken in by her, if they all bought her Perils of Pauline act.

“I’m not sure.” Her lips purse into a thoughtful moue. “The staff must have seen me at some point, but there was no one...well, watching me sleep.”

It’s tempting to buy into her ingenue act even now, even knowing that she’s not a Grable but a full Bacall. Even more tempting to think that she is just how the nastier tabloids paint her: a gold-digger who made a name for herself with her legs and her measurements, a girl looking for a leg up in the movie world and found a man able to lift her tits and ass and all into the Olympus of Hollywood Royalty.

It’s tempting, but Obi is a man who does his research. Not some clown with a badge.

“How long had you known your father-in-law?” he asks, voice light, inquiring.

“Oh,” she sniffs. “Ages. Daddy hardly worked with anyone else, even in the studio. Only the best for Kain, you know.”

And there it is -- what sets the gumshoes above the flatfoots. So tempting to think a girl needs a leg up, when she looks like a dream wrapped in a fantasy --

But Haki Arluleon never has. Tabloids don’t care about colorists -- technicolor might as well be magic, for all they know -- but Hollywood does.

Kain Wisteria did. The rest of the world might see a pin-up reaching for the stars, but Haki’s practically Hollywood Royalty herself; after all, you don’t get a Swedish model mother by having a nobody as a father. Not in this town.

“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “How else would we have that Wisteria blue?”

Her smile freezes like a rictus on her face. “Arluleon blue.”

Sitting so close to her, he can tell why. Sure, it comes close to the shade of Izana’s eyes, to Zen’s, but --

It’s not their peepers that would be true to color on film.

He leans in, conspiratorial. “Can you think of anyone that would want to rub out Kain Wisteria?”

The piercing look evaporates, as if it never existed at all. “Oh, never.”

“Never?” She’s got to know that’s a bridge too far, even if he was a cop. If there were a thousand reasons to kill in this city, all but a hundred of them would have to do with the Big Five.

“Well,” she tilts her hair, coy. “He had been in the business for years. I’m sure he’s stepped on a few toes.”

An understatement of the century. Like saying Randolph Hearst was moderately wealthy.

“But someone who would want to -- to kill him?” She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t imagine it.”

“You know, people say Kain and Izana had been arguing in the days leading up to his death,” he presses.

She waves a hand, as if the idea itself was absurd. “It’s hard to thrive under a shadow as large as Kain Wisteria’s. Izana has been wanting to try his hand at directing for ages, but Kain was determined to keep him on screen as long as possible.”

“And you don’t think he’d try to get out from daddy’s thumb another way?”

She sighs, unimpressed. “It’s the same story all around this country. Boy doesn’t want to take over the family business, him and his father fight about it until we’re all sick of hearing it. Zen was trying to take some opportunities at another studio, and they’d all been having a fit about that too.” She shrugs. “Nothing anyone would kill over.”

He sits back, doesn’t tell her that happens all the time. People get tired of being bossed around, they fight back, and suddenly Pa’s on the floor with a crack in his skull. Or in this case, poison in his lungs.

“It’s all so unfortunate,” she sighs dramatically, settling back against the lounge. “Kain was an institution in this town, but he’s been ill for years. Gassed in the first war, you know. That’s the reason he had to drop out of acting. Ruined his voice, and all they wanted after the war was talkies.”

He hesitates. Now that he hadn’t know.

“That’s why he had Shirayuki,” she confides, keeping her voice soft. “Chronic infections. Every sniffle could be the end. It was only a matter of time until it was.”

Obi grits his teeth around the truth. Something tell him Miss Arluleon wouldn’t be so forthcoming if she knew what the papers in his pocket said.

“He died as natural a death as a man could in his condition,” she concludes. “It’s sad that some have got to see shadows in sunlight. Though,” she adds, a bit lower, “I suppose that apple never fell too far from its tree.”

“Is that what Kain was like?” Obi asks, a little too sharp. “Seeing shadows in sunlight? A few sandwiches short of a picnic?”

Her body goes rigid, just for a moment, and then she eases back into her sultry lean, her bright smile. “Of course not! Kain had his eccentricities, but so do all geniuses, don’t they?”

He nods. “So you can your soon-to-be father-in-law got along well, I take it?”

She gives him a reproachful look, as if she’s surprised he doesn’t know better. “Of course. I was his muse after all.”

Obi raises a brow. “Didn’t they say that about Haruto, back in her day?”

“And his first wife,” she adds, her playful tone taking an edge.

He blinks. “First wife?”

He’d known about Haruto -- a scandal that the rags still like to bring up whenever there was a good photo of Kain standing next to young starlets; she’d hardly been eighteen when he’d cast her in her first role, and before it’d even wrapped they were married, Kain nearly twenty years her senior.

But a first wife? That’s...something different.

“That’s the only way to be a Mrs Wisteria,” she says, voice tight. “Catch Kain’s eye.”

There’s something about the way she’s looking at him, like she’s willing him to hear the words she’s saying, but --

“Shirayuki!”

He blinks, head swiveling over his shoulder, back towards the house, only to find his nose practically brushing the cotton of a sensible skirt. Thoroughly ignoring his presence, she skirts around him, holding out a dripping glass.

Haki seizes it with gusto. “You’re a darling, Shirayuki. What would I ever do without you?”

The lady of the house offers a tight smile, pointedly not looking in his direction. “I’m sure you would manage.”

“I’d suffer,” Haki tells her, raising the glass to her lips. “After all, who else would bring me --” she sputters as she takes a sip, eyes wide -- “Why, darling, this isn’t gin at all.”

“It’s water,” Red tells her, brows raised. “It’s practically desert weather out here. You need to keep hydrated.”

Haki gestures out to the pool. “I have plenty of water.”

A long suffering look passes under those freckles. “Sitting by it doesn’t count.”

“It should.” Under Red’s unwavering look, Haki sighs, taking a sip. “If you’re up anyway, darling, do you mind heading back inside? I need a little gin to help the water go down.”

If Red were any less of a lady, she’d roll her eyes. As it is, she just muffles a sigh. “Of course.”

Nowakoski pivots on the stacked heel of her Oxfords, military-sharp, and strides past him without a glance, like he’s no more than a stain on the pristine white of the lounge.

He clucks his tongue, gathering up his fedora. A dame like that should know that ignoring a man was more intoxicating than come-on. At least men like him, who make their business digging up the skeletons everyone else would rather stay buried.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Arluleon,” he murmurs, getting to his feet, “I think I’m getting a little parched.”

Her mouth rucks to one side in a smirk. “And here I thought you’d come for me.”

Obi reaches out, gives her hand another shake. “Who’s to say you can mix business with pleasure?”

Her lips give a wry quirk, amused. “And here’s me, wondering which one I’m supposed to be.”

In the closed confines of the house, Obi can admit – he’s in a real pickle trying to suss out which one Red is himself.

There’s a right answer: between pin-up and zipped-up, it should be clear to any red-blooded man which one is the pleasure part of the equation. There wasn’t a boy in Camp Shelby that wouldn’t have given his best nut to have ten minutes with Haki Arluleon, sure, but –

But there’s a real economy of movement in Red as she nips behind the bar, a sort of focus he hasn’t seen since he crossed back over the Atlantic. She looks almost at home back there, even with the high collar of her blouse, and the school marm cut of her skirt. There’s enough booze on the shelves it’s daunting; he doubts there’s a single person in this house that’s tried a nip from every bottle, but she cuts through with hardly more than a glance, gripping a bottle’s neck with a sort of confidence that leaves him more than a little dry-mouthed.

“So.”

She startles, hand slipping on the lemon she’s juicing. Her eyes dart up, owlish and wary, watching him lean on the bar.

“What’s the most expensive thing here?” He makes a show of squinting at the bottles, like he knows a damned thing about anything that isn’t a couple of cents a bottle. “Whiskey?”

She stares. Arluleon would have made a fortune if he could capture a color like that on film.

“How about two fingers of that.” He knocks on the bar, like he’s at any old dive. “On the rocks.”

Her mouth tightens, lips pressing white.

“If you’re thirsty,” Red says with her politest voice, “I’m sure there’s a half dozen bars between here and the bus stop that would be happy to oblige.”

“Aw, kicking me out, Red?” he drawls, leaning on a fist. “After you gave me an invitation and everything?”

“I don’t believe that it included the bar,” she tells him primly, opening a jar of what looks like powdered sugar – even now, he salivates just thinking about that much of it in one place – and mixing it in with the juice.

“Part of the investigation,” he fires back. “Perfect place to hide poison, isn’t it? An after-dinner drink?”

Her eyes narrow, just the slightest bit. “Then you’re picking the wrong spirits. Mr Wisteria wasn’t a whiskey man.”

Those flushed cheeks, those ruffled feathers – just what he likes to see. People are so much easier to grill if they’re about to blow a gasket. He grins. Only thing left is to apply the right pressure.

He eyes the top button of her blouse, closed prudishly at her throat, the trailing bow that ties over it, contrasting neatly with crisp white. Good thing he knows just what laces to tug on girls like this.

“Now that’s what I’m looking for,” he drawls with a wag of his eyebrows. “Some moxie. Been missing out there with our Able Grable.”

This should be the point where she preens a little, where Cinderella takes a little joy at poking at one of her stepsisters, but –

Instead her expression shutters, shoulders tense as she tosses him an incredulous look. “If that’s what you think after talking to Haki, then Zen should have saved his money.”

It’s his turn to stare, for his jaw to practically come unhinged. That’s not – that’s not how the script is supposed to go. The hard-working Girl Friday and the Femme Fatale are not – not –

Friends.

“I may not…agree with Zen’s feelings,” she says haltingly after a moment. “But I respect that he needs to…to know. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.” She fixes him with a look. “So let me tell you that Haki is far cleverer than men like to think. And that’s the way she likes it.”

He recovers enough to ask, “Clever enough to murder a man?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Kain Wisteria died of pneumonia.”

Not according to the paper burning a hole in his pocket. “That wasn’t the question.”

She stares at him them, hard. “In my expert medical opinion, it doesn’t require much cunning at all to kill someone. It was harder to keep Mr Wisteria out of his bed than in it, at the end. But do I think Haki would kill a man? No.”

Obi taps his glass, watching her pour the gin, mix in the syrup, crush some ice. His chest burns where the paper sits, Suzu’s scrawling script practically tattooing itself into his skin. It’d be stupid to bring it up, to tip his hand early, but --

But there’s something about this girl that makes him want to ruffle her a little. Shake some of that blind confidence in the goodness of man.

So of course, he does. “You know, I had a friend look over your notes, and the ones from the coroner.”

Her eyebrows lift, unimpressed. “Is that so?”

“He works over at the university,” he says. “A real egg-head, you know? His boss is some big shot in medicine. Wise? Wives?”

“Weise?” she prompts, gaze swiveling toward him. “Your friend works for Shidan Weise?”

He’s not sure what the big deal about that is, besides that he made some…antidote for something during the war. Suzu’s explained it, but it all flies over his head. Still, it’s got Red’s attention, which is what he needs.

“Apparently,” he leans in, conspiratorial, “it all looked like pneumonia. Both you and the coroner’s notes agreed. But.”

She leans in, just slightly. “But?”

“The coroner’s report mentions something interesting.” He pitches over the bar, just a little more, until he can smell the soap on her skin. “An edema in the nose.”

She rears back, face ashen. “Edema?”

He nods. “Yeah, you know, some swelling --?”

“I know what an edema is,” she tells him, flatly. Her fingers drum on the countertop. “Do you happen to have that report?”

“Made a copy,” he says, showing it to her. “But I --”

It’s gone from his hands in seconds, Shirayuki poring over the words as her face goes stark white.

“I-interesting,” she murmurs, before adding, slightly louder, “But I’m not sure if – that’s not entirely – conclusive.”

“Well,” he drawls. “I think I can draw a conclusion from it.”

Her hands shake as she sets the paper back down. “If you’ll excuse me, Haki asked for that drink some time ago.”

She steps out from around the bar, hurrying toward the poolside.

The glass sits on the bar, sweating, forgotten.

#obiyuki #obiyukisoundtrack #track 2 #akagami no shirayukihime #noir au #Go For Broke #my fic #ans #FINALLY THIS PIECE IS FINISHED #i had a couple more planned for winter challenge #but unfortunately i just didn't have time #BUT THE OUTLINES ARE ALL THERE #and like...a fourth of a draft for the other one #so ONE DAY #one day i'll get to write them

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eabhaalynn · 5 years

Text

So you want to be a doctor...

Congratulations on even thinking about this career path! It is undoubtedly a noble one, and one which will be very rewarding. You probably love science, you probably already work super hard at school, and you’ve probably got your own personal motivation that I will never properly understand. All of these are admirable, and I know I was in your position not too long ago.

Over the next few years, and probably over the last number of years, you will have some life experiences that will be truly incredible. These experiences will be inextricably linked to your career choice, and you should be so grateful to have them. My own volunteering in my community, with the FRIENDS group, is probably the most formative experience of my life. It is definitely what inspired me most to be a doctor, and I miss it to this day. More recently, I have got to see incredible doctors at work, both in the UK and US. They are such incredible communicators, saving and changing lives every single day – I am overwhelmed with gratitude and I don’t doubt that these experiences will change your life for the better.

But today, we have to be realistic, so here is the rest of what the last three (give or take) years have taught me about trying to be a doctor…

You almost certainly can do it.

I did my GCSEs at a school where not many people do medicine, and the ones who do are the ‘geniuses’ who don’t know what anything short of an A* looks like. You should all know that I am not one of these geniuses, at all. In fact, I barely remember what an A* looks like. So, as you may expect, when I announced my career plans to my fifth-year careers teacher, she told me that I ‘wasn’t academic enough’ for medicine and would never get to the interview stage of the process, so I’d be better off trying something else. My predicted GCSE grades were fairly unremarkable; 2A* 6A 2B. However, I am far too stubborn to listen to any career’s teacher, so I did try. I tried far too hard and did unexpectedly well at GCSE. Two years on, I am in a fairly similar academic dilemma; but this time I have a firmly accepted offer to study medicine. It’s all about progress. So, what I’m really trying to say is that if I can get a medicine offer, you can too. And please don’t listen to careers advisors who try to tell you otherwise.

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

It’s almost exam season, and you’re going to work so hard and do so well, whatever stage you’re at. After exam time is summer time, and that’s when you’ll have time to have a really good think about what you’re getting yourself into, and why. (I know and fully understand I am only an upper 6thand have no right to talk about medicine as a degree or career – just the application).

Using my own personal experiences, here is what the application process was like for me…

SCHOOLS

Yes, this is a bizarre one. But essentially, I changed schools for medicine. I was THAT committed to the cause. And I promise the application process will still leave you feeling like you want to study anything but medicine.

Personally, I wasn’t too torn up about leaving, but it can be a really big deal. Certain courses require certain A Levels – and for the courses I wanted to apply to I really couldn’t have stayed. This isn’t make-or-break stuff, but it’s not something I gave much thought to until it was almost too late.

GCSEs

These are important exams. Most medical schools will either rank them standalone or on a point system before they interview you. You should definitely study. These are also probably the last exams you’ll sit at school where your hard work is almost guaranteed to pay off – so you’re better off putting in the work now. Better GCSEs would have made my sixth form experience infinitely easier, and worse ones could have made it far more difficult. They are not, however, an ultimatum. They do not define you or your ability to be a doctor.

VOLUNTEERING AND WORK EXPERIENCE

If you’re volunteering to get into medicine you’re doing it wrong. But volunteering for the good of your community and for the good of others, even for the sheer experience of it, is probably one of the greatest things you can ever do. Start as early as you can, and put in all the hours you can, while you can. Some experiences won’t be brilliant, but they’ll be worth it (and some medical schools need it.)

As I mentioned earlier, work experience is incredible, but it can be difficult to organise. Start contacting doctors and healthcare professionals you know as soon as you can. They were very accommodating to me – they’ve all been where we are. It can also be quite consuming, while my friends were making big money in retail, or with their talents (sailing and music namely) I was making tea in hospitals, unpaid. Again, this isn’t a big deal at all, it’s just not something I would ever have considered.

OPEN DAYS

Medicine isn’t the kind of vocation that you can decide to just stay at home to study. You need to accept that if you live in Northern Ireland, ¾ of your choices will not be in Northern Ireland. I am a wee bit apprehensive and so I spent a great deal of my sixth form experience travelling up and down the country, visiting all sorts of medical schools I was thinking about applying to. This has clear financial implications, and I completely understand that it is not accessible for everyone. It’s definitely not a necessity, but its something I’m really glad I did.

Not all medicine courses are the same, not all cities are the same. You’ll be spending five or six years of your life at these Universities, so you’re better to do your research on them rather than wasting a space on your application.

AS LEVELS

Lower Sixth was the hardest year of my school career. I was in a new school (which I love), studying new subjects (which I love), and yet I was really struggling. All of the medical schools I was applying to specified 4 AS levels in their entry requirements – so it was never going to be a fun year. Looking back, I don’t know how I did it. It was far more to handle than upper sixth has been. Study subjects you love, and just accept now that you will quickly stop loving them – especially chemistry. Try to balance a personal life too, because that only gets more difficult with time. In Lower Sixth, I was in a relationship, kept up my volunteering, and even had a job until Christmas. Your academic attainment will probably not be what it was previously, but that’s okay, it will come in time. Surround yourself with all the support you can, get a library membership and use it. Buy textbooks and get a tutor if you need to – again I know this has its financial implications. And please know that you will survive the year.

UKCAT

This is where the shit really hit the fan for me. It will make your A levels look like P5 English. My school were fairly supportive, and even then, I was still left largely to my own devices. I sat mine fairly early, and I’m so glad I did, because it really does have the potential to ruin your summer. Allow a solid three weeks to cram, there are brilliant resources online, and some books available. Again, if your financial situation allows, there is an amazing course that Kaplan run every weekend through the summer and it boosted my score significantly.

There is also the BMAT that certain universities require, I didn’t sit this myself but it’s supposed to be more academic based than the UKCAT. It’s also sat on a single date in October, by which stage you have already applied, and know your UKCAT score and how it sits compared with the average. I wasn’t willing to take the risk and didn’t like the uncertainty, but it is entirely personal choice.

PERSONAL STATEMENT

Do yourself a favour and write this in June. I am a firm believer that lower sixth exams finish early for a 4000-character long reason. I am one of the lucky ones and wrote my personal statement in one draft. There aren’t many people in my position, and I am well aware of how many people were so fed up and drained by this following AS Levels. But it’s so much easier to handle then than it ever could be in September. It’s also not nearly as long as you think it’s going to be – and that just makes everything harder.

UCAS

I sent away my UCAS application on Monday, 10thSeptember 2018. By that Thursday, I had received my first offer to study Genetics at Glasgow. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I could probably have got five non-medicine offers back within the week. But applying to medicine was a completely different ball game. My final ‘UCAS Application Status Notification’ email came on Wednesday 3rdApril 2019. Just a week short of seven months later. It was a rejection from a medical school. My third rejection.

Those UCAS emails give you the sort of fear that isn’t really comparable to anything else. The feeling of being rejected from a University who has met you, spoken to you, and marked your personality as unworthy, seems very personal. It does hurt, but no more than any fall out or heartbreak would. It just hurts differently because it’s a whole institution that has rejected you. This isn’t pleasant, but it is a reality for the majority of applicants and offer holders. So, if it does happen to you, just know you’re not alone.

INTERVIEW

I was very naïve going into the interview stage. Of my four choices, I had three interviews, within three consecutive weeks. I have one offer. Two of the interview processes were friendly, and they were manageable. The third was a truly awful experience. Thus, I think it’s fair to say that the interview process is variable. All of my interviews were in January, right in the rush of A Level work, I even had my attendance reported because of them. MMIs themselves can be fun, especially with relatively supportive examiners. But there is so much preparation required for a medicine MMI and the reality is that you can place in the top 20% of one University and the bottom 20% of another with very similar interviews. They take their toll on you, and are physically exhausted, between travelling, early mornings and the workload of the preparation. It is also, I believe, fair to say, that it can be quite emotionally destructive to have your personality scored and analysed in such a manner.

A LEVELS

Only when applying to medicine do a-levels feel like an after-thought. At this stage, I feel like I have been put through the ringer by this application, and to even get an offer has been more than I ever thought I was capable of. But you do need the 3As, in some of the hardest subjects and exams that boards can write. Its easy enough to forget that, but it is an immense amount of pressure, and it is still my present.

So you want to be a doctor…

I am so grateful to have got this far with my medicine application, and I do genuinely hope I get to study it in September.

There is so little accessible information regarding the details of the process and how to approach it without losing your head over it. I don’t think anyone has cracked it yet, and if they have I wish they’d write a post about it instead of this one.

Ultimately, you have to take care of yourself first. It’s what your doctor would tell you to do. You are more important than any and every stage of this process, and your own mental and physical health should come before every career choice you make. I hope to see you on the ward someday! But even more than that, I hope you get to be everything you aspire to be, whether you decide medicine is for you or not.

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

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I find myself once again asking for another chapter of As Yet Unread. It really is a compelling read. I am fascinated by it. And in advance of my request...a simple please and thank you for your consideration and regard.

Here you go, lovely one. I hope this makes up for the wait

Claire placed both of her feet flat on the floor as she pushed herself up from the bed. It had only been twenty-four hours since she’d had the cast taken off and she was still struggling, hobbling around the flat as if the plaster still held her hostage. Though it wasn’t the slight muscle damage that caused it, it was more akin to a phantom injury that halted her recovery.

Dr Gowan had made her promise that she’d leave the house and not keep herself hidden away. She’d agreed to it yesterday and Jamie had offered to give her some lessons in wood masonry if she felt able later down the line. Claire didn’t like breaking her promise to Ned, and even though it had only been a day she itched to break free. Though something stopped her from accepting Jamie’s offer straight off the bat. The same invisible force that made the back of her leg ache with increased furor the more she thought about moving on it.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Jamie had been calling everyday from his van and even now, in the wake of her cast removal, it seemed he would continue to do the same. Claire liked it best when it was raining and she could hear the pitter patter of water droplets on the roof of his van as he spoke to her. There was something very soothing about it. That and the soft tenor of Jamie’s voice - it kept her sane.

“Hi Jamie.” She said, the fingers of her free and tapping against the side of the metal bed as she waited for him to speak down the phone.

“Hello sassenach,” he replied, a happy lilt to his voice as he audibly sipped tea on the other end of the phone, “I just thought I’d call to see how ye were holding up today, first day of freedom and all!”

He sounded chirpy and the happiness in his tone made her smile as she cradled the phone closer to her cheek. Jamie had finally managed to unlock his old phone, add a new sim card and update Claire’s details onto it so that she had her own access to him, Murtagh, Suzette and his family should she need it. It also had wifi access which meant that she could sit and watch online videos from bed if she wasn’t feeling up to moving far though Jamie was wary about giving her a television in there with Netflix on in case she never came out again.

“Are you on your lunch already?” She asked as he began chewing on something that was potentially the sandwiches she’d made him the night before. “It’s only eleven AM, Jamie!” She said faux-offended by his choice of meal time.

“Nah,” he mumbled around his food, “just having a wee break wi’ a biscuit before we get back to the hardcore stuff.”

“A heavy lifting day, huh?”

“Ach, always, Claire. Only Murtagh is a grumpy arse because I didna bring the nice biscuits, you ken the ones…wi’ the chocolate on?”

“Which did you take then?” She asked, perplexed.

“The plain digestives.” He said sounding fairly ashamed of his decision.

She could hear Murtagh muttering in the background and it made her laugh. “Sounds like you might not be so daft in the future, Jamie. You have to keep your uncle happy else he might just up and leave you for a better offer.” She quipped as she tapped her bare toes on the carpet, experimenting with the feel of the soft material beneath her feet.

“Aye, he’s already putting together a tribunal. He thinks this is poor working conditions or something similar. He says ye’d agree wi’ him.” He laughed, the echo of it making the tension seep from her bones as she stood confidently and took a couple of steps towards the door.

“I would! It’s downright disgraceful, James Fraser. You’d better get your house in order.”

“Och, aye, I should. And wi’ that I’d better get back to misery guts and get the wood cut fer the next half of the room. Get yerself some lunch, sassenach and dinna forget where we are if ye need anything else.”

“Will you be late tonight?” She asked cautiously, her hand hovering over the bedroom door handle.

“Probably, lass. The more we get done today while we have the light, the earlier we can move onto the next room. If we finish early there’s a bonus in it for us, aye? A nice one.”

“So I shouldn’t make something for dinner then?”

“Dinner? Ah. What would ye make?” He questioned, intrigued. Whilst Claire had her cast on she’d been pretty much bed and settee-bound; and although she had helped out as much as she was able the most she’d done in the kitchen was make a couple of rounds of toast. Mostly, Jamie had just carried on as normal, making his own brand of sustenance. While he knew she probably had far superior skills in food preparation, he hadn’t ever assumed she might cook for him once she was more mobile.

“Well, you have enough for me to make us spaghetti bolognaise. Or I could do a shepherds pie. You have some nice mince in and some sauce. I’d just need some basic herbs to add and some tomatoes.”

“I can drop into Tesco on the way home. Ye just tell me what else ye need and I’ll bring it for you.”

“Oh! I found tomatoes,” Claire exclaimed. Having found herself in the kitchen she had begun to root around looking for the key ingredients that she needed, “I could marinate the mince, once it’s soaked up the flavours of the tomato it’ll make a much nicer sauce. Then we can have bolognaise. Do you just fancy grabbing a baguette and some garlic cloves. I’ll make some homemade garlic bread to go with it?”

Thrilled by the prospect of being useful once more, Claire began to put everything she needed on the side whilst Jamie chuckled and replied. “Aye, I can do that. Just text me else I’ll forget all of that by the time I’m finished here.”

“Alright! Excellent. See you later, Jamie. Have a good rest of your day.”

Claire waited for him to reply and ring off before she got to work preparing the base sauce she needed and when she was done she placed the pre-cooked mince in her own tomato base sauce and folded it all together. Beneath the sink she had also found a dusty old slowcooker buried behind some other oddments that had Jenny Fraser Murray’s name written all over them. None of them had been used and Claire thought it pivotal that she christen at least a few of the items she’d recently unearthed.

With the timer set, Claire rinsed the dirty pots and placed them carefully in the dishwasher.

Looking at the clock she noticed that it was barely past one as she perched on the ‘L’ shaped corner sofa. She was restless. Her fingers itching to keep working but the house was basically spotless. Jamie hired a cleaner to come in once a week and it meant that Claire had nothing to keep her occupied.

Closing her eyes she measured the steady beat of her heart as the sun rose high enough in the sky to shine in through the large lounge window. It warmed her face and she basked in it for a moment before setting her mind to the task ahead.

She had promised a number of people that she wouldn’t allow herself to build another prison in Jamie’s flat, and although it had barely been a day since those hard conversations Claire felt ready to battle her demons. She needed a few various ingredients from the shops and she didn’t want Jamie to have to go out of his way after a long day at work just to pick up bread and garlic.

She put her shoes on quickly, tying the laces tight and grabbing her coat as she quickly limped towards the front door, keys in hand and shopping bags neatly stashed in her pocket. Forgoing the lift, Claire opted for the stairs although she still felt a little shaky but the more she waited around the more likely it was that she’d chicken out and go scuttling back into the flat with her tail between her legs.

The moment the fresh air hit her face Claire felt soothed. It was clean, cool but refreshing as she took her first solo steps into the world. It was hard for her to believe that, though she’d left the flat to meet Susie with Fergus in those early days, for the rest of her time she’d been hiding herself away like a porcelain doll. Taking her first slow steps she made sure to keep the building in sight should she need it but before long she was content and settled in her decision.

Ned had told her to explore and Jamie had encouraged it. Claire wasn’t a coward and she knew it was the right time to gather her courage.

The walk to Tesco wasn’t a bad one. She had researched the route thoroughly enough that she knew where the large supermarket was in relation to the apartment. Having forgotten her Glasgow metro pass, she had been forced to walk the whole way and it was only when she stepped closer to the illuminated blue entrance to the supermarket did she realise that she’d left her phone there too.

“Oh…” she sighed under her breath, placing her hand on her pocket where the small visa card Jamie had given her lay. She still had the keys and her shopping bags, but no cash, no metro card and no phone to contact Jamie if she needed it. Suddenly her brave act seemed foolhardy and daft.

Tesco hummed with life, the car park was filled with large 4X4 cars, sedans and hatchbacks, and the crush outside the store made Claire feel small and insignificant. Even the sliding doors seemed to tease her as she took one nervous step backwards. Pulling her coat around her neck, she jiggled her still healing leg as she internally bantered with herself on what to do next.

“Miss?” A man in the recognisable uniform said, reaching out his hand as if to snap her out of her agitated stupor. “Are ye alright? Can I help you?”

“I’m f-fine, thank you.” she stammered sounding far from alright. Waving her hands, she took one step to the side, bringing herself free from the confused gaze of the guy who’d interrupted her mid panic attack.

Taking one further step backwards, Claire tried to smile but the forced lift of her mouth obviously made her look even more afraid as he scrunched his brow in confusion and opened his mouth as if to speak again.

“Sorry.” Claire managed to blurt out as she turned on her heel and hobbled off. Her head was fuzzy, the haze of the fright she’d given herself clouding her judgement as she headed in an unfamiliar direction. The heat of the sun had dissipated from the air leaving her chilly. She didn’t have a watch and there was nothing around her to signify the time and as she rounded another unknown street she began to fret. The moisture that gathered in her eyes misted her vision and the cars that were flying passed her wafted her hair around her face so that she couldn’t reorient herself.

Dragging in more and more ragged breaths, Claire tried to slow her heart rate as she quickened her pace. Her leg ached, the increased movement causing the scars that ran down it to itch madly beneath her trousers.

A few pedestrians loitered, watching her carefully as she walked by them, her chin wobbling as she tried to contain the tears she desperately wanted to shed - but nobody approached her for which she was grateful. Even if she could talk to any of them, she didn’t know the exact address she needed - not now with her brain struggling to make head nor tail of her location - and she didn’t know either Jamie or Murtagh’s phone number.

It wasn’t until the clouds started to darken that she let the hopelessness seep into her skin, the damp, fragile grasp on her sanity shattering as the soft splashes of rain fell onto her thin raincoat. Sunset was coming and she had no clue how to find her way home or how to contact Jamie. Her teeth chattered noisily, her jaw throbbing as she tried to curtail her sobs.

With blurred vision, a sore chest and shaking shoulders, Claire limped to the nearest bench and collapsed onto the sodden wood, her trousers soaking up the moisture from the moist beams as she curled herself up into a small ball in order to keep warm.

“Foolish.” She mumbled, the hair covering her face as she buried her nose against her knees and took a few long, deep breaths.

She was so exhausted that she almost didn’t hear the call of her own name through the fog, but the distinct French accent pulled her from her temporary bubble and she wiped her eyes as she looked up to see Suzette with Fergus clutched against her chest rushing steadily towards her.

“Claire!” She repeated, this time with more relief in her tone. “Jamie is beside himself. Where have you been?”

“To Tesco.” She answered lamely, her voice cracking as she peeled her legs away from her chest and sat up straight.

“It’s alright, love,” Suzette said, turning to look at Claire’s tear streaked face as she spoke down the phone, “she’s here, in the park around the corner from ours - I forget its name.” During the pause in her talking, Susie leaned into Claire, letting her shoulder connect for a moment in a quiet show of solidarity. “Yes. Of course,” she continued, pausing a couple more times to let whoever she was talking to (probably Murtagh, Claire thought) speak too, “we’ll wait here. Fergus is fine. He’s settled. Don’t worry. Love you too.”

“I take it you never made it into the store.” Suzette began once she’d hung up the phone. “Since you still have your shopping bags but nothing inside them.” The way she spoke made Claire feel less daft. Susie was friendly and motherly whilst never being condescending or callous. She truly cared and was making a concerted effort calm Claire’s frayed nerves as they waited.

“No.” Claire sighed loudly. “I couldn’t. Silly really.”

“Not at all, Claire. It’s loud and busy in there. I hate it. Fergus certainly doesn’t care for it. I think the bright neon lights hurt his eyes too.”

“Is Jamie mad?” Claire asked, feeling more than a little ridiculous for leaving the flat without her phone.

“Mad with worry perhaps,” Susie said kindly, “but not angry, no.”

“I came out without my phone,” Claire sighed, “and once I’d reached the shop I felt this crushing sense of failure when I couldn’t just…go in!” She cursed through clenched teeth. “Then I panicked. I couldn’t remember the way home and I had no way to contact anyone. I just didn’t want Jamie to have to run around after me when he’d been at work all day long. I was trying not to be a nuisance and then…” she trailed off sounding incredibly disappointed with herself.

“Yer no’ a nuisance, Claire…” The sound of Jamie’s voice broke through the dim grey of the evening as night truly set in. “And ye never will be.”

Claire’s heart stopped for one moment as she felt him hovering over her and her head tipped to the side as she breathing in one large breath and turned to face him. “Apart from the times when I disappear without leaving a note.” She joked, a large lump forming in her throat as she saw the worry colouring Jamie’s face. He was pale, whiter than she’d ever seen him and she instantly felt bad for making light of the situation.

“Aye, weel,” he said, the stress of the evening showing on his face more clearly now as he held out his hand to help her stand, “Murtagh is waiting and I should probably get ye home.”

Claire kept quiet on the drive home. Murtagh and Suzette bantered about an upcoming trip they had planned and Jamie sat stoically next to Claire, his hand holding gently onto hers as if he were afraid she wouldn’t make it home if he let her go. The warmth of his skin soothed her and she closed her eyes and relaxed against the window, watching the world pass by through the fog her breath created against the glass. Glasgow came and went, the obscured view making it look blurred as the car slowed when it reached Jamie’s flat.

“I thought he’d taken you…” Jamie whispered as they entered his home, the heat of the apartment hitting them both as they stopped dead in the entrance to the lounge, “I didna ken how, but I when I came home to find ye gone wi’ yer phone left here, I thought he’d come back and taken ye.”

“I’m so s-sorry, Jamie,” Claire sobbed, breaking down as the full brunt force of his shaky words hit her solidly in the chest, “I th-thought…”

“Hush, sassenach,” Jamie soothed, instantly taking her against his chest as he rocked her to and fro, one hand resting softly against her smooth curls and one on her lower back, “ye dinna need to be sorry, please. I ken how much ye’ve been through and I dinna want you to think yer stuck here, or that ye have to leave. You just have to do things in yer own time, aye? Dinna rush to do one or the other…”

He paused for just one moment as the timer on the slow cooker beeped quietly in the kitchen.

“…just take yer phone wi’ ye next time, so I dinna have a heart attack when I come home to find you missing.”

#;Mod MBD #As Yet Unread #jamie x claire

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corvvii · 6 years

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Another Interview with Leonnaux Altoix

1. What is the name you go by?

“Leonnaux, though most of Alizarine refers to me as ‘Leon.’ I don’t mind it, really; it certainly has a ring to it. Funnily enough, my girlfriend actually refers to me fully as ‘Leonnaux,’ barring any pet names! At the end of the day, it comes down to preference and how willing one is to navigate bullshite Elezen names, I suppose.”

2. What is your real name?

He hesitates. “Leonnaux Altoix.”

*OOC Note: Lie detected. His real name is Leonnaux Declurais. He uses an assumed surname to distance himself from his family back in Gridania, and make himself feel closer to his long-missing father.

3. Do you know why you are named that?

“Why is anyone named anything? I suppose my mother just liked the name, I suppose. As for Altoix... I’m not sure where it comes from.”

4. Are you single or taken?

“I’m in a relationship, aye. Her name is Edda Vincents. We’ve not been without our difficulties, particularly erm... Recently, but that comes with the territory, I think. I do my best to support her, when she’ll let me, and I’ll love her always.” Mushy as it is, a big grin breaks across his lips and he gives a stern nod.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“I’m versed in magic, if that’s what you’re asking. Namely, I practice arcanima, and would consider myself reasonably skilled at it, although I struggle with the, erm... Putting the theory into practice occasionally. Other than that, I’m skilled with arcanima, and... Well... I don’t think that qualifies as a power, really...” He trails off in a huff.

*OOC Note: Leon has the Echo (visions only), but he doesn’t know what it is. These visions are also liable to make him very, very sick, and he has no idea what causes them, so as far as he’s concerned at the moment they’re just an unfortunate medical condition.

6. What is your favorite food?

“Um! That’s actually pretty tough. I would wager... Uh... Well. At the moment, I really like these pastries that they sell in the lobby of the Sultana’s Breath...”

7. What’s your eye color?

“Blue.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Black.”

9. Have you any family members?

“... None that I’m on speaking terms with.”

10. What about pets?

“I have a cat, uh... Though I guess she doesn’t really belong to me so much as I plucked her out of an antique shop and now she kind of wanders around The Goblet and visits me whenever she either finds something interesting or wants attention or food. She has a cute little hat--oh. I also have a copperfish. But that’s not interesting.”

11. Now tell me about something you don’t like?

“At length? I think I’ll spare you the trouble... I despise people who put their bloodthirst before anything else. They ought to know better than anyone that lives have weight; to believe otherwise is to paint yourself as a psychopath. I’m also not particularly fond of tribal people, oh—But Edda would get onto me if she knew I said that out loud. And before you say anything: yes, I’m a Duskwight. No, you don’t understand the intricacies of why we are regarded as we are.”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like?

“I enjoy... Studying. Gambling, from time to time. Reading drama. And drinking. Spending time with Edda... Chewing the fat with my coworkers... I’ll listen to a good bard from time to time. That shite takes me back; had things been different, maybe I could have been the one up on stage...!”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Physically? Emotionally? Physically, I struggle to think I could hurt anyone. I’m hardly a grisled warrior like Ben or Jin. Some harm to body may have resulted, a few times, from spells I’ve cast, but I try to keep my spells benign. Emotionally? ... Certainly.”

14. Ever killed anyone?

“No, and I refuse to allow myself to be responsible for taking a life, even by proxy.””

15. What kind of animal are you?

“Caw?” He does a remarkable impression of a crow.

16. Name your worst habits.

“I have been told racism. Drinking, occasionally to excess. But I will not have it said that I’m not principled.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Not many, being an Elezen.” He pauses. “What? Fine. I suppose I look up to a few people; Edda chief among them, but of course I’d admire her. Beyond that, I suppose Madison most times and Khada some others. I haven’t been in a position to be mentored or otherwise subservient to another in a very long time. That is not to say I’m not open to being taught a few things, but it makes coming up with people I look up to difficult... Considering the kinds of crowds I tend to run with. Of all my endeavors, Alizarine is the only one that is clean.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“You’re asking about my sexual preferences, right? I’m happily taken. But if I weren’t, I think I could see myself as easily with a man as I could a woman.”

19. Do you go to school?

“I never went to school. I was taught how to read and do basic maths by a family friend, and then everything else I know, I taught myself.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Uh... The idea of getting married is... Not altogether unappealing, but I don’t think I’m ready for such a major step. As for children... I would make a shite father. So no.”

21. Do you have fanboys/fangirls?

“Do I have any what?”

22. What are you most afraid of?

“... Being alone again, I suppose. Before Edda, and way before Alizarine, I was pretty much... A shut-in? A recluse? I didn’t mind that life at the time, but I feel so much... Better now that I’m not. Edda pulled me out of some dark places. I don’t want to go back to them.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“Things so marvellously stylish that you will wonder how I afforded them! The boots are Fen-Yll.”

24. Do you love someone?

“As we’ve been over a few times: yes.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“What the fuck kind of question is that? I’m an adult! The last time I would have wet myself would be as a wee bab.”

26. What do you think is the worst act someone can commit?

“That’s a toss-up between murder and sex crimes. Selling off people as if they were livestock is also horrid. I have my hands in a few untoward things, but you will never see me with a finger in any of those pies.”

27. What class are you? (high class, middle class, low class)

“... Upper-middle? I’m no member of the Syndicate, but I’m hardly poor. I own property. I run a research company. I’m comfortable.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“... Uh...” He starts counting on his fingers, then seems to reconsider. “A few.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie? Cake?

“Both are excellent, especially apple pie and apple cake, which I promise exists. My mother used to make it for us all the time as kids using faerie applies she’s pick from these trees on the—Oh, I made myself sad.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Alcoholic? I fancy myself a bit of a mixologist these days, so I’ve come up with a few interesting combinations that I enjoy. Chief among them are Gold Court cocktails, on sale frequently at The Cloak & Dagger. I also like the restaurant’s titular cocktail... As for non-alcoholic, lassi is good. Fruit juices. Water. I don’t sit down and drink milk, really, but sometimes I get... Cravings?”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“Home. Or The Brimming Heart, in the Goblet.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“I’m in a relationship! Of course I’m interested in her!”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Ask Edda.”

34. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“A lake... Because the water is calmer, and I’m not a strong swimmer...”

35. What’s your type?

“I’m not sure that I have one, honestly. I’m in a relationship, but I think anyone who was kind and willing to tolerate my bullshite for more than five minutes would have had a chance.” He laughs. “If—and this is a big if—I ever have to find out if I do, indeed have a type that I’m habitually attracted to... You’ll be the first to know. But for now, my type is Edda Vincents.”

36. Any fetishes?

He turns bright red considering the question, then shakes his head.

37. Seme or uke? Dominant or submissive?

“I don’t know what the former two are... Is it a Hingan thing...? Uh... As for the latter...” He’s still bright red. “It depends on the mood?”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Indoors.”

39. You are trapped on a desert island. What 5 items do you take with you if you can?

“I would avoid being trapped on the desert island in the first place! Other than that... My linkpearls, my grimoire, a quill, a map of the realm, and...? Ugh! This is hard.”

40. You have found a genie! What are your three wishes, not counting getting more wishes.

“I would wish for the power to bring those who have wronged the people I care about to justice. Uh... Wow, that sounds deep but it’s really not. Let’s go money, happiness, food. that works just as well. Right?”

Tagged by: @solennelagarde Tagging: @celestial-benediction, @celesiel (for vio!), @khadamoks, @oroniri (for either Dali or Kubo you pick!!) @larhaya (for Irha), @rashkgeilt, @lazarusffxiv, @streetgardener, actually all of INK and any members of Ebonguard who haven’t done this interview meme and/or have a Tumblr. :>

#m | headcanon #[ thanks for tagging this was fun!!!!!!!!!!!! ]

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jessicaburke7718 · 4 years

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Pandemic Teacher Momma

The 2020-2021 school year is right around the corner, and there is a great deal of anticipation for our district’s proposals to be finalized. With the recent board meetings happening, I am writing this because I’m an educator going into my 8th year of teaching who just so happened to become a new momma during this Corona-Virus Pandemic.

This is not meant to be political, nor is it meant to offend anyone’s beliefs in public education or the medical field. I also understand that every educator is at a different part of their life and may not be experiencing the same feelings as I am. In a world where it is so easy to go down a rabbit hole in social media’s opinions, I feel it is important to voice my own as a teacher whose career is being decided at the mercy of an outbreak.

I was fortunate to bring a healthy baby girl into the world on March 15th, 2020, and due to the virus, my husband was the only one allowed in the hospital with me. The day after, our governor made the decision to close down businesses (my husband’s job included) and highly encourage social distancing. I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat as I was holding my daughter in bed hearing this news from our nurse. The plans of family members and friends coming over to see our newborn needed to be put on hold, and all I wanted to do was share our joy with loved ones. At times it felt lonely and eerie, but I had continuous support. My first time mother experience was not how I pictured it to be, and I had to keep telling myself that my new little family was healthy and that’s all that mattered.

On the flip side, the timing of my daughter’s birth was perfect in the teacher world, because I worked up until spring break and planned my maternity leave until August (or so I thought). The first 6 weeks of my leave, I completely shut out all work e-mails and disconnected from the world to give my all to our sweet girl. I then started hearing on the news that school was being pushed back week by week to finish the school year, and finally the decision of Distance Learning was set in place.

I talked back in forth with my husband on ending my maternity leave early to finish out this unfortunate school year with my students, and save some sick days in case I needed them later. In my heart, I knew it was the right thing to do, and now with my husband home, I had care for my daughter. I got in touch with HR, spoke with my principal, thanked my student teacher who took over my class, and BOOM! Just like that I was back....(VIRTUALLY) that is.

I knew that I needed to research and read blogs on effective classroom management through zoom classes with first graders, so in the wee hours of morning feedings, I was also on my phone looking up tips and tidbits to make the rest of this school year as meaningful as possible. My students were thrilled and my families were more than supportive of me coming back. I offered three 45 minute whole group zoom classes a week and an additional day for 1:1 tutoring. I utilized online resources that I would use in my classroom to make our sessions just like a regular school day as much as I could.

For primary aged students, their attention span can only be held for so long and there’s only so many times I can ask students to mute themselves when they want to sing or have conversations with their little sister or brother. Not only that, but my school is filled with dedicated and hard working parents, and not all students could make every zoom session offered. I could not give my all to this class academically, and that tears me up inside. The district put out online resources, and I updated my parents weekly with additional “things” they could be doing, but it was just not the same. I had to remind myself that this pandemic is global and all educators are experiencing discomfort, family members in distress, and pressure of schooling at home.

Now, with the headlines of “Is it safe or not for students and teachers to go back to school this next year?” I cannot help but feel torn. To read on social media that children are not effected whatsoever by the virus and then watch the news where there are nationally confirmed cases of children breaking out with Kawasaki disease related to COVID-19 is disheartening. I’ve also seen comments from the opinions of parents who state that they’d home school their kids if school opens up, or that they want no precautions set in place with a full blown normal school year.

Here is where I must stick up for my profession. I do not care what a parent’s stance is on our school district’s decisions. I get it, students are not getting the best education at home, nor is it good for their mental health with no socialization or adequate exercise. I saw a post from an educator that I loved which I will put into my own words: I hope that families are having conversations with their children at home to gear them up towards what may or may not happen. I hope that they can try to keep positive comments in front of their kids, and let out their worries and concerns with significant others, or other adults. Do not view teachers as babysitters for your children, because as you have seen first hand now- our careers consist of complexity, differentiation, and patience. Regardless, instilling a good reaction in front of children to whatever our district announces in these next couple of weeks will set the tone for this school year.

Right now, elementary schools are set to go back 5 days a week, and middle/high school will have a hybrid model of Digital and face to face learning. Our district is also offering an option for parents to do exclusive online schooling if they are not comfortable sending their child back. I’ve been reading e-mails stating that cleaning and sanitation will be top priority and that teachers/ students will need to wear masks and maintain social distancing as much as possible. All this is being decided right now in the midst of severe budget cuts that is detrimental to our youth and staff members.

So many thoughts come to mind about this school year, and I couldn’t help but make a long list of hopes: I hope that the school board has closely analyzed the classroom sizes and over crowding in many schools while trying to maintain desks that are 6 feet apart. I hope that they understand that mandated testing in general puts pressure on all students, and teachers will now have to be working even harder to get students back on track from a 5 month deficit. I hope that they think about my small groups of guided reading and math support where students need to see my mouth in order to make sounds and number sense. I hope that there is a realistic plan for recess when my first graders want to hug each other and play basketball together. I hope that they understand students (and teachers) go stir crazy staying in one classroom ALL day, and teachers like me need a bathroom break! I hope that they think about the working parents who have been scrambling to find care for their children and support their families. I hope they think about teachers like me who have a new family at home and school family they dedicate themselves to working after contract hours. I hope they think about budget cuts and the fact that teachers do not choose this profession for the pay, but for the commitment to inspire youth. I’m hyped to see fellow educators rallying outside of the capital, and I hope our voices are heard to NOT take away from school funding. I hope that more mental health resources are offered and SEL curriculum is encouraged so that students can express how they have felt not seeing their friends and hardships with their families, if any. I am currently taking 15 hours of various district required courses related to Distance/Blended Learning, Trauma, and Equity and Diversity, and I hope these important topics thrive within schools buildings.

Summers always fly by, and now I have to mentally prepare myself for this unique school year along with not seeing my 3 month old every second of the day. There are days where I do not feel ready to step foot back in the classroom because of this virus and days where I’m ordering new read alouds because I can’t wait to share them with my new students. I’ve been writing my thoughts down of how I will need to revamp my classroom, and what my ELA/Math centers will look like. My mommy brain is also formulating a plan for my family by putting a change of clothes in my garage before I enter my house after a work day, or going home to shower before I pick up my baby, because I am THAT mom and will do anything and everything to protect her and my husband’s health. I have the upmost respect for first responders and those who are on the front line every day in their careers. Unlike healthcare providers, teachers do not work in an environment that has accommodating materials to suit up every day and care for sicknesses or exposures. I just hope I can be brave like them and continue to make a difference and an impact at a time of crisis in our country. Most of all, I hope that educators are given grace and respect for whatever is coming our way and that we are accredited for what we do on a daily basis. So, forgive me if I feel a little hesitant about this school year and the dangers to health it could have on everyone in the school building, but I will make sure I’m greeting my new group of students every day with a smile (under my mask) and air hugs/ high fives. Students deserve to feel safe and have positive school experiences from their teachers regardless of what may be happening in the world. I will reassure them that everything will be okay, and mean it. I will meet them where they are at academically to get them back on track. I will tell them that even though I can’t console them when they are upset, their teacher still loves them dearly. This profession is all about adaptability, inclusion, and being positive role models to young minds, and whatever this school year may look like... from those making decisions on the school board, to parents, teachers, school personnel and student’s perspectives... we’re all in this together.

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vileart · 7 years

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Dramaturgies of Hope and Resistance: Bonie Fechters @ Edfringe 2017

BONNIE FECHTERS – SONGS & STORIES OF HOPE & RESISTANCE

FRI 18 – SUN 20, FRI 25 & SAT 26 AUG SCOTTISH STORYTELLING CENTRE, 43-45 HIGH STREET, EH1 1 SR

VENUE 30

A ONE-WOMAN SHOW CELEBRATING WOMEN OF COURAGE ACROSS THE CENTURIES

Previous sell-out success at Edinburgh International Radical Book Fringe & the Scottish Storytelling Centre

Bonnie Fechters is an inspiring collection of stories and songs about women’s activism and struggle throughout the world and over the centuries. Devised, performed and directed by Morna Burdon* ( see below), the show journeys from the jute mills of Dundee to the Vietnam war, from late 19th century Syrian refugees welcomed into the USA to a modern Scottish woman who rode horseback in Mongolia with her 6-year-old daughter to record the lives of women there.

Discover the Scottish women targeted as witches, hear tales of the girls who survived the Magdalene institutions for “fallen women”, explore the 1976 ‘Strikers in Saris’ protest and many more inspiring females who may never have been heard of but were there.

Burdon states:

What was the inspiration for this performance?

Courageous women & songs they sang to survive or give then strength or songs that were sang about women such as they. Also, a call out for free fringe shows 2 years ago by that lovely, supportive Edinburgh venue, Woodland Creatures

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas?

This one is! Great after show discussions where that has been feasible & also written comments from audiences. Folk have gone off and done research about people in their own families and different generations have sat in the same room talking to each other about their backgrounds, their battles, their lives.

How did you become interested in making performance?

I did Highland dancing when I was wee & loved it. A little theatre company came to my rural primary school and created magic in our gym hall. I was auditioned for a small part in a class show & apparently did a great stretch & yawn !

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

Allowing myself to go with what inspires me. Might be an idea. Might be an actor's way of moving ( if I am directing). Always remembering that the show is for the audience - not ( sorry) for the critics. If I did not remember that, I would never create anything - my own internal critic is massive!!!

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

Not really in that I perform & direct my own one woman show which is new to me.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

Inspiration - I hope they experience knowing that in the midst of terrible tragedy, prejudice & what seem like impossible odds, we human beings are capable of courage, dignity and hope.

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

Was I going on too long? Was I being false at any stage? Was I remembering this show is "their" show - the women of courage - not " mine" & remembering it is not about me - it is about "them" (the women of courage) and "them" the audience - who will undoubtedly include people of courage. I am just a conduit & I need to use what I know about theatre to get out of the way & let the story & the audience connect.

‘A bonnie fechter is someone who stands up for what they believe in. The aim of my work is to inspire audiences by using words, song, music and performance to tell the stories of real people – especially women – whose courage, love, inventiveness and human spirit have stood up to injustice and oppression over continents and centuries.

‘My research showed me that whatever the circumstances of these women, somewhere there was hope, courage, resilience and – more often than not – there was song. This show is a celebration of these women, a celebration of song – and it’s for everyone. Each production has its own focus and theme but the aim is simply allowing the stories of brave people to take centre stage. Depending on the setting or production, there can be space for the audience to tell their stories of inspiration – and their stories are amazing too.’

Bonnie Fechters – Songs & Stories of Hope & Resistance

Fri 18 – Sun 20, Fri 25 & Sat 26 Aug 1.30pm (50mins) | Ages 14+

£9 (£7) (£28 family of 4) (£6.50 Storytelling Centre Supporter)

Box Office:

http://ift.tt/2vs623P.co.uk 0131 556 9579

www.edfringe.com 0131 226 0000

*Morna Burdon is a director, writer, performer & singer whose work has focused strongly on telling the stories of the disenfranchised and those whose lives are hidden & voices unheard. This has inevitably often meant a focus on women - from " Twa Mock Weddings & A Henna Night" for Dundee Rep about similar ( & outrageous) wedding preparations in the Scottish, Chinese & Asian communities to " Mother, Daughters & Wild Wild Women - an international project using trapeze, sword-fighting & live painting on stage.

For ten years she was a member of the creative team at Edinburgh’s ground-breaking Theatre Workshop ( set up by 2 women, and for many years a Fringe venue - now sadly being redeveloped). She was also a member of the women's ensemble theatre company, Witch where bricks were thrown at the company as they left the theatre - not because of the quality of the show ( "We preferred to think..") but because a women's company was bound to be full of "lezzies" - it was " an exhilarating experience - we were having an impact"!!!

She has also undertaken commissions and collaborations with Royal Lyceum Theatre Edinburgh, Dundee Rep, Perth Theatre, Traverse Theatre Edinburgh, Royal Court London; Dance Base, 7.84 Theatre Company and Drake Music Scotland. Morna has also previously been invited to direct at the Royal Scottish Conservatoire.

Pre theatre she was the first National Information & Education Worker for Scottish Womens Aid & Joint National Co-ordinator. Work here included negotiating the building for the first Asian Womens Refuge in Scotland and briefing Donald Dewar on the passage of the Matrimonial Homes (Scotland) Act through Parliament. She has recently been involved in "Speaking Out" marking 40 years of Women's Aid in Scotland.

Scottish Storytelling Centre is a home for Scotland’s culture in the heart of the capital city. A finalist in the Sunday Herald Culture Awards 2017 for Best Performing Arts Venue, it presents a seasonal programme of live storytelling, theatre, music, exhibitions, workshops, family events, and festivals. The Centre strives to ensure local talent is given a platform at the world’s leading open access arts

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2hqmool

#Theatre #Blogger #visual art #Edinburgh Fringe #Experimental Critique

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toldnews-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/health/i-tried-exercise-snacking-for-a-week-and-heres-why-im-going-to-keep-doing-it/

I tried 'exercise snacking' for a week and here's why I'm going to keep doing it

Exercise snacking has nothing to do with eating chips during a SoulCycle class.

Interested in Fitness?

Add Fitness as an interest to stay up to date on the latest Fitness news, video, and analysis from ABC News.

It simply means doing short bursts of exercise throughout the day. The extra movement may be as effective as taking a spin class or doing sprints on your own, some experts say.

As someone whose job requires sitting at a desk all day, the research caught my eye. I have found that even though I’m active after work (diligently attending a group fitness class daily) I have a hard time pulling myself away from my desk.

I’m answering emails, writing a story, on the phone and poof, the day is over and I realize (and my body tells me) that I have barely moved all day.

For one week I committed to climbing three flights of stairs three times a day at work, the same type of stair climbing examined in a headline-making study recently published in the journal Applied Physiology, Nutrition and Metabolism.

Brad Warsh and Y7 Studio

Stairs are pictured in Y7 Studio in the Upper East Side neighborhood of New York City.

The study found that its test group of sedentary adults who climbed a three-flight staircase three times a day – with a one- to four-hour break between each climb – were stronger and fitter at the end of the six-week study than the control group who did not climb stairs.

(MORE: Kathy Bates credits ‘mindfulness’ for her 60-pound weight loss: Can it work for you?)

I started my exercise snacking routine on a Monday, a day I was not bounding in with energy to say the least.

Around 9 a.m., when I would have usually hopped in the elevator to go up three stories to the office café, I instead found myself in the stairwell, climbing three flights of stairs.

ABC

Climbing three flights of stairs three times a day made an impact.

Even though I work out, I had to take a break about midway through and huffed and puffed way more than I would have liked. I climbed the three flights in one minute and 46 seconds.

After I reached the top though, I immediately felt better and proud of myself for doing it. I climbed down the three flights of stairs too.

The rest of the week went by much the same. I would think, “Do I really have to do this?” But, much like working out, once I got myself to the stairwell and climbed the stairs, I was always glad I did.

I never set an alarm to remind myself, but maybe I should have because I did miss a few climbs, particularly the third climb of the day as I was trying to finish my work.

(MORE: 10 Instagram accounts to follow for major inspiration)

What amazed me was the thought I had nearly every time: that I couldn’t possibly pull myself away from my desk. Climbing three sets of stairs takes less than two minutes and I always returned to my desk having not missed much.

That was my biggest takeaway from the wee — that taking these kinds of short breaks throughout the day did not impact my work but instead made me feel better physically and mentally which, in turn, made my work better.

Brad Warsh and Y7 Studio

Stairs are pictured in Y7 Studio in the SOHO neighborhood of New York City.

I also noticed feeling more in control of my breath in my workout classes. My legs felt more sore, which I attributed to my workouts, but now realize I can put some of the blame, or credit, for that on exercise snacking too.

On Friday, after climbing more than 30 flights of stairs, I walked up another three sets of stairs at 9 a.m., the exact same time as Monday. This time I clocked in at one minute and one second, shaving a full 45 seconds off of my time.

I’ll definitely keep snacking

I am on board with the exercise snacking trend and have made stair climbing a habit.

I’ve found it actually adds to my productivity because I return to my desk more alert. It also breaks up my day and allows me to focus for a period of time on a task knowing that I’ll have this break coming up.

I’ll check my time occasionally to see how I’m progressing, but I’ve also tried to leave my phone at my desk so it gives me at least a minute or two away from a screen. A mini-meditation is how I’ve come to look at each “snack” break.

On days when I know I will be busy, I’ll set a timer for myself so I don’t forget to get up every few hours.

The six-week study that piqued my interest in exercise snacking found that stair-climbing “snacks” improved cardiorespiratory fitness (a measure of how well your body transports and absorbs oxygen) and strength.

Researchers said they want to keep looking into whether shorter breaks between “snacks” can improve cardiorespiratory fitness even more, and what the breaks can do to health factors like blood pressure and blood sugar levels.

If stairs are not an option for you at work, there are still ways to incorporate exercise snacks at a lesser intensity, whether it is a walk down the hall, squats or yoga moves at your desk or simply standing up and stretching for an energy boost.

#gma #good morning america #health conditions #health news #health symptoms and treatments #josh eliott #lara spencer #medical articles #medical news #morning news #oncall wellness #physical fitness #research #robin roberts #sam champion

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anamsaorreads · 7 years

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Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Hi there. My name is Edel and I've decided to try my hand at writing a book blog. Who knows if anyone will read it, but perhaps it could be a place where I can find my voice. At any rate, I'm unlikely to find it if I don't start speaking. The following is a fairly longwinded account of my life's reading journey so far — feel free to skip it, I'll try to be more succinct in future posts.

My mother has always described me as a big reader, always with a book, always reading something. For the most part I agree with her, but I'm also a relatively slow reader (I think, I've never definitively tested my wpm reading speed), and I've had lulls, and great chasms of readinglessness, throughout my life. To be fair, many of the lulls or pauses or dragged out perusals have occurred whilst I've been studying, either in school or university, and although I read a lot for those courses, the reading involved was of the kind that was extra slow, and always, always, put me to sleep. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my courses — mostly — and although the assigned texts were interesting in their own ways, they were rarely something to get excited about (with a few exceptions). Actually, I must now confess that many of the books I was assigned were never finished, or even started, during the time frames of their respective courses. I have since read and enjoyed some, and others are on my current reading list (someday, I will finish The Iliad!).

As a child, I remember frequenting my local library quite a bit. Writing this has brought back a memory of using it to research a project on St. Brigid - Irish princess-goddess-saint — when I was 8 or 9. I vaguely recall a small, tattered, dark green, hard-covered book from which I copied the interesting facts and folklore (my research/essay-writing hasn't changed much since then...). A couple of years after joining, I began to notice a pattern of not finishing the books I checked out, and not remembering their titles after a few months (the latter frustrated me more I think, because I had an otherwise excellent memory for a 7 year old), so I tended to only check out Asterix and Obelix and Horrible Histories volumes, and read the novels and storybooks that I already had at home (a faded pink-covered illustrated Grimm's Fairy Tales springs to mind) or that I bought. The first book I ever fell in love with was a Don Conroy book about an owl. I can still see it gliding through the night air and grasping up an unsuspecting field-mouse in its talons. Fabulous imagery!

In my teens I got more into fantasy. I adored the Old Kingdom Trilogy (there were only three when I read it and I haven't read the others in the series so to me it's still a trilogy) by Garth Nix. I felt empowered by the strong female protagonists and escaped into the vivid descriptions of landscapes and monsters (the Dead), magic, and hot, naked, petrified men. I remember almost gagging as one of the books described the movements of the Dead, and feeling like I (me, personally) had to turn it into a movie. I haven't. Yet. I also read a few Eoin Colfer books — the code along the bottom of the pages of the Artemis Fowl books were always fun — and dabbled in Discworld. Later, I got into some slightly pretentious, wordy, philosophical books like The Picture of Dorian Grey, which I think I understood, and Catch-22, which I did not, even though I wrote a review of it for the school magazine.

I took English in my first year at university and we were assigned an array of wonderful classic novels to read when it finally came to studying prose fiction, many of which I'm still working on. After an entire semester studying Wordsworth's "Daffodils" for one course and learning how to study, research, and write about it for another, one would think one would be dying to get one's teeth to some variety. However, perhaps irrevocably bored with the course, discouraged by the difference in my first semester grades between English and my other subjects, or as a consequence of struggling to adapt to college life, I ended up reading the bare minimum: Pride and Prejudice and *some* of Joyce's Dubliners. While I immensely enjoyed reading, and even studying and writing about these books, I must say I enjoyed re-reading Dubliners last year, and re-watching the BBC and movie adaptations of Pride and Prejudice far more.

The course did introduce me to titles I probably wouldn't have picked up as soon but am glad I did — Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, among others I'm looking forward to — and it certainly encouraged my love of books. My other subjects did as well, of course. I picked up Fiche Blian ag Fás for my one of my Irish courses and still haven't put it down, largely because I'm taking an age to read it. One of my Bibstudz (Masters in Biblical Studies) lecturers assigned The Iliad as one of our *weekly* reading and I'm still working on that one, too (he did acknowledge that that was a slightly ridiculous expectation).

Since finishing my Masters, and subsequently deciding that maybe I should take a wee break from formal education for at least a few years I have been making more of a conscious effort to read more, both in terms of volume of books, and variety. I don't think I've ever read more than 4 or 5 books in a year until recently. In 2015, while on an internship with TG4 in the back arse of nowhere, I managed around 5 or 6. One was Baudolino by Umberto Eco, which although fantastical, interesting, and thought-provoking, took at least three months for me to get through. Another was The Road by Cormac McCarthy, which I read in two sittings, in roughly 7 hours. By way of a harrowing journey, through poetic prose, beautifully bleak and vivid imagery and description, panic and *a lot* of tears, it quickly became my (current) favourite book.

Now, when I say a lot of tears I mean A LOT. After beginning to weep about 50 pages in (if you've read it you'll know the point I'm referring to), and continuing to cry constantly for the rest of the Sunday afternoon I had chosen to start reading it, I hadn't quite finished it by the time I had to go to sleep. Since I had only roughly 50 pages left, had read the rest of it pretty quickly, and it wasn't very busy in the office that morning — and since I had decided that I absolutely could not wait 8 hours until I got home, or even the 4 hours until lunch — I decided that I could hide in the library and finish it before any pressing work came up. So I did. And I bawled my eyes out for those last 50 pages. I would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for that pesky colleague. He didn't say anything but he definitely saw me crying, with my puffy red eyes and my sniffling. I just hope he saw the book and didn't think I was in there crying because I was upset for a real-life reason (I'm sure he would have offered assistance if that were the case, he seemed like a nice guy).

Last year, I blew my personal reading record out of the water. I read 14 books, including another Eco tome, and I enjoyed most of them. Of course I had to read Brooklyn and Room (otherwise how was I ever going to be able to watch the films) and both were fantastic. I have to say though, I really struggled to get into Brooklyn at first, but for an unusual reason. I started reading it the December before around the time the film came out here, or just before that. I read the first 20 or 50 pages and while I liked it, it made me slightly uncomfortable. I felt like Eilis, the protagonist, was very much like me. Too much like me. Not in the sense that she possessed those traits which I admire in myself (we all like to identify with a protagonist by relating to those aspects of their personality which drive the story, or by seeing in them someone we would one day like to become, or be like), nor was it in the sense that I think a lot of people might identify with the not so desirable characteristics of someone like Holden Caulfield (he is a little gobshite, really), but know that we're probably not quite that bad. Rather it was that, in those aspects of her personality that drove the first part of the book mostly strongly — her reticence, her thinly veiled anxiety — I saw a mirror image that I didn't see changing any time soon. I think it may have irked me even more as she did begin to transform, that I was not changing in step with her.

A friend of mine, who hasn't read the book, but saw the film and did a review of it for his local radio station, mentioned to me that he had seen someone who reminded him of me in the cinema. I flirtatiously replied "Was she pretty?" Of course he clarified that it was more a personality reminiscence and that the girl was on the screen, not in the audience. I knew who he was talking about. I finished the book shortly after Christmas last year and eventually watched the film. To me, book-Eilis is more similar to me than film-Eilis, but it's interesting to see how I may seem to other people.

I'm not really sure why I've given you my entire reading history but I guess that brings me to roughly to beginning of 2016. I don't want to make this post any longer than it already is, so I'll fill you in on what I read during the rest of last year in a future post.

I'd like to use this blog as somewhere to talk about books I've read and want to read — I aim to read 24 books this year, which in comparison to other book-bloggers and -tubers is pretty modest — books I love and didn't, and somewhere to share my thoughts on some of my other bookish interests like languages, Irish history and mythology, movies and TV, photography, the Internet, adventures and more (I know, I'm really carving a niche here).

If you've read this far I'd love if you stay and explore more, say hi, and most importantly, give me your recommendations on books and blogs I should read, movies, TV shows, and YouTube channels I should watch, and anything else you think I should know about.

My plan for the time being is to produce one main post per week, so be sure to follow me and come back next week! (Keep an eye out for random bonus posts! — No promises there though ;) )

Thanks for reading

Edel

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babyvas66 · 4 years

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Monday 9th December 2019

57kg 27 years old Est Week 6

Your daddy and I got married 27th October 2019. Already together a strong 5 years, but it wasn’t until November 16th, we planned to begin trying for the possibility of you. Daddy has always wanted to be a dad, and I think its because he wants it so much, he was scared it might not come true for him.. So he avoided any doctor appointments related to conceiving, in case it confirmed his fears. For me, I have always been scared to have you. I’ve always seen motherhood as incredibly selfless, and I don't know if I was ready. It wasn’t until your dad, when I knew, he gives me that strength and courage that I lacked.

There was a baby before you, with an old lover, but I was 18. Too young. I told my younger sister, but it broke her heart, so I couldn’t tell mum after that. I was confident in that decision to let that pregnancy go. I believe I made the right choice, because that how I know Im ready for you now baby.

I had been feeling hungry tummy grumbles, bloating, incredibly sore boobs, and a constant need to wee. I knew it was different to normal, but I held off on buying a pee test. I think I was actually scared to see a negative result. But on Thursday the 5th November, on my lunch break, I finally bought a 3-pack pee test (because I thought I’d be needing the rest for the future). In the Emporium bathroom, I could only see 1 out of 2 lines pop up (a neg test), I couldn’t see the second line and felt the wave of disappointment. I proceed to clean myself up, and then THERE WERE TWO LINES!! I cried. I cried of happiness and of joy. YOU WERE CONCIEVED FIRST GO! There’s only 2 days a month for best chances, I wasn't even timing periods and yet, the day after your dad and I agreed to start trying, that was the timeframe, and we didn't even know it!!

I returned back to work, happy and excited. During a small break, I called your Auntie Audrey to tell her the news. She was happy and excited, I said I was going to tell Julz that same night.

So I left work early, made a doc appointment, helped y a terrible GP, who gave me a referral for some bloodwork. After I got daddy a baby rattle, box, card and made up a reveal box with the positive test inside. I met him as he finished work and gave him the box. He was so happy he cried too. You barely exist yet you are so loved already.

Daddy and I were inly talking about trying 3 weeks beforehand, that now I needed to put everything I know into action AND do heaps of research! I only started the pre-natal vitamin 2 days before we found out. I have to cold turkey coffee, alcohol, my favourite deli meats, and favourite cheese. I honestly think the diet will be my biggest struggle. After more research, dad and I will keep you a secret until the end of Jan. Problem is, we’ve got xmas and NYE coming up as well as a family holiday on the Australia Day weekend. For a family of drinkers, we’ll have to lie and sneak if we were to pull this off. Only Audrey and my mum currently know. We have to wait 12 weeks to announce you. 12 weeks, the miscarriage rate drops significantly, and also its the first ultrasound, for your health, sex and heartbeat. 12 weeks lands the day of Australia Day, so we are going to try and line up the reveal for then... but we’ll see.

So now I’m only eating what I'm allowed, not drinking any alcohol, taking my daily vitamin and trying to drink lots of water. My symptoms are an increase in my hungry, I can eat so much right now. My boobs are super tender and nipples are over-sensitive. Some days my belly feels really bloated, I definitely need looser pants for work. I pee really often and I feel the lower back aches and uterus cramping which is apparently you making your way into my walls. Feeling those symptoms quite early on, which I think just means I have a bit of changes headed my way. Emotionally, apart from being super excited to start seeing you grow in me, the biggest emotion I’m struggling with is... the fear of losing you. Miscarriage is common early on, that im petrified you might not hold. I’m scared to even get intimate with your dad! I waited a full week before I said we’ll try. Sex doesn't hurt you, but its just me being scared. But with each week, you’ll stay stronger. You’ll hold on, I know it!

Please hold on baby. Mummy really wants to have you..

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hortoneskildsen7-blog · 6 years

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