#mini syllabi

[soulcandi]

𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑲 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑬 | 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭

synopsis: dalton doesn't have the guts to make a move on the cute sorority girl that he's been stalking since orientation, but the demonic entity constantly peering over his shoulder does.

warnings: probs 17+ (just to be careful), stalking, obsessive behavior, paranormal type-shit, reader is stupid and also hot (think jennifer from that scene in jennifer's body where she's flirting with the band), the smallest hint of somnophilia, demonic possession, identity theft (lol), extremely dubious consent, dalton is definitely a little ooc, written with afab!reader in mind, y/n gets referred to as a girl.

a/n: title ripped from the ghost song. i love me some goth masked men. forgot the name of the frat so i just made one up. also, i just imagined a random dark spirit possessing his body, not the one explicitly shown in the film. but you guys do whatever you want. also, this is probably really cringy. I wrote most of it on 🍃 and didn't bother to proofread.

word count: 2078

Dalton’s favorite hobby was a tricky thing. How could he bring himself to tell Chris or anyone else in his life that the first thing he wanted to do after a long day of classes was shut off all of the lights in his dorm and count back from ten until his spirit was standing over your bed, watching you sleep?

How could he ever come up with an answer for how he somehow knew every last intimate detail about you despite never having spoken to you a single day in his life?

The easiest solution was to keep his hobby a dirty little secret right up until he graduated and moved a million miles away from campus. It’s not like he could ever look you in the eye anyway—the cute little sorority girl who approached him shyly during orientation and asked him to help carry a mini-fridge up the staircase of the Kappa Delta house. You were all glitter and smiles and infectious laughter and ignoring you was like trying to ignore sunlight. It just wasn’t done. 

Dalton hadn’t smiled since long before the funeral, but you coaxed one from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world. It was impossible for him to up and forget something like that, especially when, as he went to wipe the sweat from his clammy palms, there was pink glitter plastered across the lap of his jeans. You effortlessly infiltrated every aspect of his life, pumping through his veins like some drug he couldn’t name. His entire world revolved around you and the best part about it was that you didn’t have the faintest clue.

Watching you was more of an addiction than a hobby to Dalton. Not in person, god. Never. The last thing he ever wanted to do was freak you out—to scare you. But what was the harm in flinging his backpack across the floor, shutting off all the lights, and letting his spirit travel to your room on the second floor of the Kappa Delta sorority house? He wasn’t hurting anyone by sitting on the corner of your bed while you flipped through your homework booklets and nibbled on the tips of your perfectly polished fingernails. 

Dalton’s favorite moments were when he caught you in deep sleep, tossing and turning in one of those silky little numbers that he instantly grew to love. You had them in every color, alternating throughout the week. They hugged you in such a dangerously perfect way, riding up over your plush thighs as you mumbled under a thick blanket of dreams. He made a home for himself in the furry pink armchair across from your bed (when it wasn’t stacked high with laundry, that is), treating himself by watching you breathe. It was mesmerizing how the fabric would ripple across your body while your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

It only took a few days for that guilty pleasure to bleed into his weekly routine. Dalton only realized things were starting to get out of hand when he found himself drawing you. 

Doodles on the corners of his syllabi turned into sketches in his notebook, which eventually turned into 24x30 charcoal portraits that took up most of the wall space in his dorm room. Art was his second nature and as soon as he returned from one of his nightly haunts, he was powerless to control the charcoal nub that somehow found its way into his hand. Dalton had to immortalize you on paper. Otherwise, he would have no choice but you seek you out in the dead of night over and over again until your image was burned into the back of his eyelids. 

A full week after he first saw you during freshman orientation—informative sorority flyers stacked tall in your arms, barely hiding the Greek letters stamped across the front of your cropped shirt—he turned in his very first sketch of you for an art critique. Professor Amagan was pleasantly surprised by his change in subject matter. Goodbye bloody red door, hello sleeping beauty. 

She had wanted to pin it up in the showcase at the front of the arts building but the thought of you ever stumbling upon it made a fiery hot wave of mortification spill over Dalton’s entire body. What would you even say to a lifesize portrait of your own sleeping body drawn by someone you’ve never spoken to before? He would count himself lucky if he wasn’t expelled on the spot.

Dalton hastily accepted his passing grade and shoved the charcoal drawing to the very bottom of his portfolio, never to see the light of day again. Unless, of course, he was cram-studying for midterms and couldn’t afford the time to go and visit you. In this instance, he would lock his door and prop you up beside his desk to steal quick glances at while he worked. But it never sated that itch inside of him—the one that reared its head when he caught the faintest ribbons of your perfume in the air as he marched through the courtyard with his head down. 

Dalton wasn’t proud of himself. Not for this, anyway. White hot shame burned at his heart whenever he caught your eye from across the dining hall or the library by accident. You were forbidden fruit on campus—the sweetheart of the most powerful fraternity and the stuff of everyone’s dreams besides. He should have felt forever guilty for stealing your private moments for his own pleasure. But fuck if you didn’t make it so hard for him to quit. 

Tonight, like every other night this week, Dalton flicked off his bedside lamp and yanked the nightlight out of the wall, plunging the room into thick and heavy blackness. He counted back from ten until he no longer felt the weight of his physical body holding him down, then blinked his eyes open to see a world illuminated with an otherworldly faint blue light. 

The walk to sorority row only ever felt like seconds. The spirit realm was like a highway in that sense. He slipped through the front door of the Kappa Delta house like a ghost. He was a ghost. And you were his all-time favorite haunt. 

You were already asleep when he crept to the door at the end of the hallway with your name plastered across the frame in glittery bubble letters. You always went to sleep with your desktop lava lamp flipped on. It painted your face in a warm glow as you slept and Dalton couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were just as afraid of the dark as he was. The thought coaxed a pleasant shiver down his spine. Maybe you were just waiting for someone like him to come around and tear that fear to shreds. 

Your face was buried in your arms, one leg hiked up to your waist over the sheets. A massive sleepshirt clung to your frame, slipping off of one shoulder just enough to highlight the fact that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

Dalton bristled at the sound of something soft and light floating through the air and reached down to pull the pair of boxy headphones off of your ears, cupping one side close to his face.

♫ “In the silence of your room, In the darkness of your dreams, you must only think of me, there can be no in-between.” ♫

You rolled over, limbs twitching with a sleepy moan as you subconsciously turned your back to the light. Dalton shook his head with a quiet chuckle, folding the headphones and setting them down on your bedside table. You shouldn’t go to sleep with your music so loud, he silently chastised you. It wasn’t good for you. But he honestly would have said anything to make this feel right—to relieve himself of even just an ounce of the guilt he felt for standing there above you in your most vulnerable state. 

He liked to think that you felt him there watching over you like some sick and twisted guardian angel. Maybe you actually took notice of all of the little things that he did for you when you weren’t even aware that he was in the room. Killing spiders, plugging in your phone when you were too sleepy to do it yourself, hiding contraband before the Kappa chapter president barged for a room sweep. 

Dalton didn’t want to believe that someone could be so effortlessly and unknowingly perfect every single moment of their life. But here you were, leaning into his touch when he failed to fight the urge to stroke your jaw with the edge of his knuckle. A shaky breath shivered past his lips in response to your sleepy exhale. 

You were so pliant. So defenseless. Swallowing thickly, Dalton took his opposite hand and brushed a flat palm over your exposed thigh, watching with sick fascination as goosebumps rose across your flesh in the wake of his gentle touches. He simply couldn’t help himself, only flinching when your face screwed up in that adorable way that it always did when someone dared to deny you of something you wanted. 

Dalton paused with his hand outstretched toward your body, a sudden tidal wave of realization washing over him. God, I am such a creep.

 “Jesus Christ,” he whispered before realizing he’d spoken out loud and slapping a hand over his own mouth. He never knew if you could hear him when he passed between the realms like this, but just to be sure he always made a point of never saying anything until he was back in his own body. 

You shifted again, pulling the blanket up over your chin to ward off the sudden chill that crept into your room. 

What am I doing? 

I need to get the hell out of here.

Dalton never considered quitting his little addiction cold turkey. But whatever spell you had put on him for the last few months had finally run its course and he was going to take back whatever semblance of dignity he could before it was too late. 

The walk back to his dorm felt decades-long and he took the time to mull over everything in his head, searching for any way to make himself feel right about this. But it was hard to do anything other than mourn the loss of what had quickly become his saving grace while he navigated this new phase of his life. Portals and demons meant nothing to him as long as he could watch you sleep, knowing that he would be there to ward off anything that tried to hurt you. 

Dalton stopped dead in his tracks outside his door. It had slid open with ease but the tension in the air was so thick that the thought of crossing the threshold made his blood run cold. His body was there, right in the corner where he left it earlier that night. 

Only…hadn’t he been lying down in bed when he left to visit you? Why was his body now halfway across the room? And why was it moving?

“What the fuck?” he breathed, drawing out each syllable as he watched it blink. The eyes of his physical body shifted to an inky black for just a split second—he saw it—before they melted right back to blue. Dalton watched frozen in the doorway as the entity inhabiting his body glanced down to inspect the hands of its new vessel, turning them over to study his palms before squeezing them into tight fists. 

Satisfied, its gaze fell to the doorway where he stood in spirit. It couldn’t see him, not truly. But it could still smell the horror oozing from him through the hole he had torn between the realms. 

“Hey!” Dalton barked, but his voice was an echo that barely reached his own ears. It bounced off of the empty space all around him. The demon compelled his body forward, walking to the mirror on the other side of the dorm and leaning all of its weight against the glass. “That’s—hey!”

It combed a hand through its hair—his hair—and ran a slack hand over the bottom half of its face. An inhuman smirk grew over its lips and Dalton shivered as it made direct eye contact with him through the mirror, testing his voice like it had gone eons without a set of lungs to force its words through. 

“You’re pathetic.”

#candywrites #insidious #insidious the red door #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #insidious the red door fanfiction #dalton lambert #stay with me ghost #songfic

[teacasket]

august

genre: angst au: high school au, summer love au warnings: swearing word count: 0.8k   pairing: gn!reader x lee minho song: august by taylor swift mini series: cruel summer // august // betty // cardigan // the 1 a/n: the reader for this is not the same reader for betty or cardigan. this reader is minho’s summer friend.

SO MUCH FOR SUMMER LOVE AND SAYING “US”

This love has been living on borrowed time. You knew that the night you kissed Minho, his lips sticky with the bubblegum bubble you popped. It was a stupid decision, yet he kissed you back.

Kissed you until your lip gloss got lost among the splatter, until the remnants of his strawberry-flavored gum found their way into your mouth, until you both forget how quickly this has to end.

That didn’t seem to matter. Sand dune chats and bottled sunscreen burnished the days golden, pilfered wine and tangled bedsheets left the nights in a thick haze. Walks on the pier became a ritual, and you eagerly waited for him on the bench underneath the streetlight every evening. Whenever he draped his arm across your shoulders, you knew you had him. After many summers of pining, Minho is finally yours.

You throw his duffel bag into the trunk of his parents’ minivan. Suitcases pile on top of one another, and last-minute miscellaneous items have been shoved into tight corners. For the next nine months, his family’s beach house will sit empty and you’ll drive past it every day when you go to school. It’ll be your only connection to him in your hometown.

“You’ll call me, right?” you ask him. “Being busy with a school isn’t an excuse because I know you don’t do homework.”

“I finished all my summer reading. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You groan, eliciting a smile from him. “Call me, okay? I wanna hear all about your fancy high school and your city friends. You never tell me anything. C’mon. It’s not fair at this point.”

“Alright,” he laughs, putting his hands up in defense, “I will. I’ll see you next year.”

Barely audible over the breeze, you say, “I’ll miss you.”

“Here’s something to remember me by then.”

He tosses you a half-empty pack of his signature bubblegum, and you catch it with two hands. You could buy this at any surf shop, but you can’t help but hold it close to your heart. When you wave goodbye to him and his family, the gum burns in your palm, reminding you that he’s still with you. You won’t chew on any of the gum; you’ll leave it in your nightstand drawer, look at it every night, and wonder how why you didn’t kiss Minho sooner.

For two weeks, you wait for him to call you. He sends curt texts every once and while about being busy unpacking or getting ready for his classes, and you reply with updates about your own life. The ice cream parlor’s new seasonal flavors, the mind-numbing chapters you have to read for English, and the seagull you fended off are just a few of the stories you send.

However, you can’t wait forever. You’re so relieved when he picks up.

“Hey! How’ve you been? I missed you.”

Something rustles on his end, muffling his voice. “Hey. Uh, been better, I guess. First week of classes, so you know.”

“Oh, I forgot you start earlier than us. First week isn’t too bad, right? Just syllabi and introductions. So, any plans for a Friday night? If not,” you slyly say, “you can come visit me for the weekend. There’s hardly anyone in town, so we can try all those tourist trap restaurants you wanted to go to.”

“That sounds fun, but I can’t. I'm heading to a party right now, so I’ll call you back?”

You feel yourself wilting but put on a bright voice for him. “Yeah, sure! Tell me everything tomorrow. Have fun.”

He ends the call, and you sink into your mattress. It’s too early to go to bed, but part of you wants to sleep the time away. Instead, you sneak downstairs to the kitchen and pour yourself a cup of red wine. Something light, something to remind yourself of Minho. You scroll on your phone until your eyelids droop and then curl into bed. Your dreams are sweet, ocean waves and Minho kissing you relentlessly.

Even though Minho said he would call tomorrow, your phone vibrates, the name minho lighting up the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, trying to conceal your sleepiness. "How was the party?”

“I got back together with my ex—”

“What?” You didn’t know he had an ex. You never even knew he had dated someone before.

“—so this is it for us. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but the party and—”

You hang up and stare at the ceiling, now fully awake. Tears well up in your eyes and glide down your cheeks when you blink. Your face grows hot. Are you sad? Embarrassed? Angry? You can’t tell, and that somehow makes everything worse. You loved him for ten years and only had him for June, July, and August.

Only for the summer.

‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE.

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #lee minho angst #stray kids au #skz au #high school au #summer love au

[a-d-nox]

just got my syllabi for the semester!

starting to think we will have a mini series on the characters of the semester! here are the stories i will be reading (give or take i find that these profs always change their minds which is hella annoying) and asteroids i can remember based on memory (because i’m sure there are more that i simply don’t remember the numbers of):

beowulf

the madness of tristan

lancelot (2041)

tristan (1966)

sir gawain and the green knight

gawain (2054)

guinevere (2483)

canterbury tales

life of frederick douglass

inferno

beatrix (83)

dante (2999)

beggar’s opera

engravings

it would be a fun series, no?

#astrology #asteroid astrology #astro community #asteroid #astro chart #natal chart #astro placements #persona chart #literature #english major

[mylittleredgirl]

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

thank you for the ask!!

👩‍🏭 genuinely feel like a failure in the fanfiction world because i don't have a juicy answer to this. what have i been doing with my time?? closest thing is that i have teenagers do sex in my mini!otp fics, but the smut is so lowkey (and they're mentally and emotionally adults no less). i have not worked hard enough as a writer to cause problems on purpose.

🏅 I FINISHED THIS SAM/JACK FIC I'VE BEEN SUFFERINGLY VAGUEPOSTING ABOUT. it's currently at beta and i like it! i was sweating though it, like i had to go drink gatorade and rehydrate my brain. it's hard (for me) to write emotionally charged scenes between characters who typically live at least a three-hour drive away from their emotions.

💻 i don't do the epic immersive deep dives on research that some writers do where they come away with new skills and careers, because i don't really write AUs that require comprehensive knowledge of anything outside the realm of the show canon. (i do swim laps in canon a lot, though; i'm working on an episode-by-episode long fic and i'll marinate in an episode by listening to it seven times in a row.)

now that i'm writing stargate fic, which is set On Earth in a particular year, i end up doing a lot of constant, shallow googling. for some reason, i spend so much goddamn time in google maps asking how far apart things are. this week i read up on tattoo culture in southeast asia and how to load a motorcycle into a pickup truck. i was recently neck-deep in historical movie listings (by week and number of theaters) to try and guess what previews would be playing before certain other movies in a particular week in 2004. part of it is a deep fear of being Wrong, but i'm also panning for gold, looking for those like DIVINELY INSPIRED coincidences that make a fic come together. it's a way of filling out the world i'm writing, too (even if it's just for me?? did i ever actually use anything from all those tenth-grade colorado public school syllabi i read while writing mini!otp fic? i'm convinced it still somehow shows through).

(ask me fanfic questions if you want!)

#chatter post #meme response #the movie thing is murdering me i did not go to movies then and i don't know What the fuck these are about #i just want people to make out at the movies!! me @ me why can't i just write that!!!!

[inkofamethyst]

January 28, 2023

K so I’m back from the interview weekend and I’ll write a bit more about it tomorrow, I think (I need to write up things I learned + my own thoughts first tonight (most of the bits in this “entry” are mini blurbs I wrote over the past couple weeks lol)) but FIRST OF ALL on the morning that I was flying out for this past weekend’s event, I literally received an email from a faculty member at my “top” choice saying that they were starting interviews and I was invited to one with him!!!  Don’t know if it’s going to be a panel or an individual one but GAH that’s CRAZY.  I’m literally so happy.  Kinda funny how my first interviews are with two of the top schools in the US but that’s just how the cookie’s crumblin.  It does mean that I’m going to be talking to people from institutions other than my own (three in total) every single day next week.  Five out of seven responses in a month.

Anyway, one thing I’ll say about this weekend’s event is that all of the prospective students were just so lovely and wonderful.  There were few enough of us that we all managed to get to know one another pretty well and I’m really looking forward to seeing where they end up!!!

I put all my assignments into a new Notion Page (I’ve been using the same basic template I made two years ago though and might try to find a cuter one), and it’s crazy how little I have to do (as written on the syllabi) compared to last semester.  Partly because last semester had required/suggested readings for literally every class and I put my bio readings into Notion even though I almost never do STEM readings.  It should be such a lovely little mental rest.

I think I need another mini sugar detox.  Not entirely sure if I’ve become dependent on sweet things to get me through the day, but I think I need to majorly cut back.

I wonder if journaling so consistently for four years has had any impact on my academic writing.  I mean I’m certainly as verbose as I was in high school (perhaps a bit more so, now).  But it’s hard for me to say whether writing almost daily has made me any better at it because I’ve got such a terrible habit of doing things last minute.  I dunno.

I watched the first episode of Accused with my dad when it aired and while I really really loved the episode (no spoilers ahead I promise), I think watching it the day after a similar event occurred once again in the US was... a lot.  Heartbreaking in the most awful of ways.  Reminded me of Black Mirror in more ways than just the fact that it’s an anthology.  Everything from the music, the suspense, the cultural conversation that’s perhaps a bit exaggerated in the way that fiction should be sometimes to get us talking.

Incredibly thankful that the question is no longer “if” I will get into a PhD program but rather “where” I will attend (yes, yes, I know I’m fixating on this one topic to be happy about but I gotta grab the Happy Feelings by the throat and wring them for all they can give sometimes).  For months, I’ve been feeling guilty when thinking about what the future could bring.  I’ve been feeling guilty when I thought about decorating an apartment or buying kitchenware or taking bioanth classes or even exploring a new place because I couldn’t be sure that I would even have the opportunity to do any of that (and I fully recognize that it was an unhealthy mindset but uhhh.. yea).  But now I know with relative certainty that it’s at least within the cards.

[chat-eaux]

Culture 3B

     1. How do Canadian/French universities compare to your university? What might be some advantages or disadvantages to these different systems?

     After studying university life in France, I have come to realize there are an incredible amount of differences between French and American universities, at least in terms of campus culture and living. Interestingly, the French university system is not so different from our own; it has similar degrees with similar lengths, but tuition fees are relatively low in France because the government funds higher education (very much so unlike that of the United States). However, campus life in France is different from the United States in virtually every way. First, most university students in France live in residences off-campus, so there is less of a campus life than here in the U.S. Plus, it is very normal here in the U.S. to use campus amenities, such as the dining hall, gym, library, etc. However, you must pay for these extras in France, as they are not considered part of your university experience automatically. The education and class system is also very different - courses are predetermined for you based on your degree in France, while in the U.S. you can take a variety of classes even if they are not related to your degree specifically.

     There are many advantages and disadvantages to the French university system compared to that of the United States, but I believe it is entirely dependent on your learning style and goals. For example, I would find the French system frustrating because I enjoy structure in my classes (syllabi are virtually unheard of in France) and I want the ability to choose classes on subjects outside of my major.

     2. How does a typical French/Canadian campus compare to your campus?

     French campuses are structured differently from that of an American campus. French campuses are generally just a set of buildings, while an American campus is essentially its own mini-town. Most French students live off-campus as well, which can make it more difficult for students to socialize outside of class. In France, university is seen as a workplace rather than an opportunity to play and socialize. I couldn’t imagine having this university experience instead of an American one!

     3. What might be some advantages or disadvantages to a gendered language, with gender specific terms?

     One advantage to having a gendered language, with gender specific terms, is that it can make it easier for speakers/readers to identify context/which noun is being modified/etc. However, it can be very difficult for new speakers to learn the ins-and-outs of gendered terms, as gendered terms means there is more info for an individual to learn. For me, I found gendered nouns in French easier for me to use because I can use the gender to then determine adjectives, verbs, etc.

     4. Looking at Canada, how has bilingualism affected the country? Does the Francophone part has a different system of education from the Anglophone part and speaks a different language? Make a case for or against or feel free to sit on the fence.

     Bilingualism in Canada is slowly declining, but it has played a significant part in its culture, history, and values. There doesn’t seem to be a different Francophone system compared to that of the Anglophone parts of Canada, but there is a heavy emphasis on promoting bilingualism in the education system. French classes are offered as early as grade 1 in Canada. I believe Canada should return to promoting bilingualism in its country, as French language and culture has played a tremendous role in Canada’s cultural landscape. Francophone culture is an integral part of Canadian society, and it would be so unfortunate to see it disintegrate in the name of nationalism and conformity.

[lakecoded]

ugh okay.tomkrrow. wake up. eat the mini yogurts. read syllabi from today and do a few readings if have time. check out and leave bags at front desk. kill some time (library???). go back to hotel and get bags. struggle on metro for an hour. move in. super quick grocery trip for breakfast supplies

#isabel.txt

[sadanisibu]

Nakama 1 sam pdf

d in the textbook.

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[interlagosed]

💻📚🌙

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

ALWAYS. I can't not lmao. I think my deepest dive has been for ¡Revolución! when I dug through a bunch of law and political economy syllabi so I could write a syllabi/mini lesson plans for chapter seven. That also inspired me to ask my real life Prof. Sainz for a LPE directed reading next spring :)

📚 Do you read your own fic?

Absolutely. I read my own fics a LOT. I've actually been meaning to reread TSOR since we're getting to the end of it!

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

I PREFER to write during the morning, because that's generally when I prefer to do everything - but that is lowkey exactly why i don't often write during the morning because there's competing priorities. Especially for TSOR, I've had to write a lot during the evening which isn't my favorite thing since I'm already kind of flagging. Oh well.

#hibi answers

[mcgregor50sloan]

5 Best Free Games For Ipad: Confessions About A Gameaholic

Google's Android is now probably the most popular smartphone platform, according towards the Nielsen Company. driver booster with key free download is one step ahead of Apple's iOS and Research In Motion's BlackBerry OS, and is actually usually constantly evolving. Recently, Google released the tablet-only Android 3.0, thirdly.1, and 3.2 Honeycomb as well as each of the.3 Gingerbread for smartphones, and they're already planning to introduce a latest version of this software later this season. On May 10, 2011, the company announced that the Android two.0, which is nicknamed Ice Cream Sandwich, is going to the market in Q4 2011. It looks like Christmas this year is going being a super sweet one for tech enthusiasts all over entire world! The difference in quality is instantly noticeable. We were very influenced. Will it nail the coffin shut towards the dwindling camcorder industry? It is a great upgrade regardless of whether it ought to be. Well, cinema pirates will. True iobit driver booster pro activation key is not as powerful like a full-scale Android Tablet. For instance, it lacks 3G, it lacks front and rear cameras, it lacks a mike. It has a scrawny processor with limited good old ram. But at $199, it's one third of couple of of the cheapest imazing iPad, may certainly sway many folks already faithful to Kindle and Amazon. Go Paperless. This is the best of reason of all. Not because it's environmentally the right thing to do, would you good enough reason, but because all of the updates on the iBooks can be pushed to be able to your students wirelessly. Once you make an update, it automatically pushes a notification to your student and these can obtain the updated supplies. Magic! What a great approach to update material and not need to reprint a comprehensive book. It runs using an Apple A5 processor with 4G capabilities. Most of its competitors like the Amazon Kindle fire HD, Nexus 7, and Android counterparts may equal or even surpass its features, but there's no-one to dispute the wide range of apps that the iPad Mini offers. If your device is run on Tegra 3 processor a person definitely should enjoy Shadow Blaster. This game is an excellent action packed game which will be well played on a Smartphone and a Tab. This app is a shooting game and the graphics are impressive insanely. If you play the bingo then you will forget playing console based games cause. A user in order to excited perform the role of a bounty hunter and destroy an army full of mutants. Digital Syllabi. Using iBooks Author, doable ! drop any text or word processing file straight into the iBooks template and and it will also automatically squeeze text in the file. This is often a great technique not end up being reinvent the wheel but will keep through having to re-type details into iBooks. You may have the capability to edit and enhance online business any way you see fit. You can even make the actual info more dynamic by adding links permit anyone automatically open the browser and bring them to proper page. For the above given three good reasons it you can see that Android is n accessible and provides great improvements over an iOS device. It is simple to make a switch or decide buy the Samsung Galaxy S III over Apple iPhone 4S or 5.

#IOBIT DRIVER BOOSTER PRO

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Max Divine: 1

Before you read: This story is about a teacher and their interactions with different students. Their character is based off of various teachers I’ve had and I’ve met in my life, including my parents. I pull from various personal experiences of various different educators, and place the setting in a fictional school very similar to different schools that exist where I live. Overall, this is a piece of fiction influenced heavily by real world people, places, and events that is very personal to me. I choose to publish this as I write it because it feels like I’m hiding a very vital part of my being by not showing it, and because I have a very different perspective on the behind-the-scenes of education as a profession, as someone who is in a family of generations of teachers. anyways hope you enjoy

Max Divine wakes up at 5 in the morning. The sun is barely rising over the mountains, but he can hear the coffee grind start up outside his bedroom. He stretches, gets out of bed, and goes to take a shower. 

He’s ready to leave, with his bag secured over his shoulder and portable coffee mug (full of coffee) in his hand. He thanks the sky for not making it overly windy today, so that the walk to school won’t be that bad, and so that he doesn’t need to wear a windbreaker.

It’s 6:30 when he enters the building. “Morning Christine.” He nods at one of the office workers, who waves in return. He takes the long way to his classroom, stopping by to say hi to Cecily.

“Anything exciting going to be happening today?” She asks as he starts to leave to get ready for the day.

Max shrugs. “Going over all the rules and also what we’ll be reading this year, so getting ready for the ‘why are we reading another Shakespeare book’ groans.”

“See, this is why I teach science. It’s so much more fun.”

“You also light yourself on fire at the end of the year, I don’t exactly get to do that.”

Cecily just laughs, and Max shakes his head and leaves her room. Unlocking his room, the lights flick on and he takes a deep breath. Posters of various books and movies cover the walls, and the large bookcase full of various books in various states of wear sits right next to his desk.

He puts his bag down, takes a dark green marker, and writes ‘Mr. Max Divine’ as big as he can make it on the board. Below that, he puts ‘Queer Club - Mondays during lunch’ below that. On the other side of the board, he puts up the Google Classroom code, as well as a url before walking back to his desk.

Taking out the very, very large stack of syllabi, he double checks that everything is in order and ready to go before relaxing. He checks the clock, thirty minutes before the first period, enough time to triple check everything in depth.

There’s a knock at the door, and Max looks up to see a kid with a backpack standing in the doorframe. “Uh, are you Mr. Divine?” They ask, looking down at their phone.

Max nods. “Indeed, if you’re here for first you can sit wherever you want. What’s your name?”

“Sol.” They say, taking a step into the classroom. “Sol Vicario.”

He nods again. “Well, Sol, you can sit in here until the bell rings, or you can leave your bag in here and go get breakfast, or talk to friends, or whatever.”

Silently, Sol takes a seat right in the middle of the sea of desks, pulls out some earbuds, and closes their eyes. 

Max watches Sol for another few moments, then pulls up the mini-form he made last night. He puts it as an assignment, then goes back through everything a third time.

The first bell rings, and he gets ready to start.

Desks slowly are populated by various kids, and Max starts attendance the moment the second bell rings. Then, he stands up and walks to the front of the room.

“Welcome to English 12.” He smiles. “I am Mr. Divine, and yes, that is indeed my last name. Written all pretty on my birth certificate too.” There’s one or two laughs, but mostly everyone looks very tired. “Now it’s time for the worst part of today, the first period teacher monologue, and the reading of the syllabus.”

“So we’ll start with what most teachers might start with, that mess of letters and numbers is the Classroom code. If you need me to read it to you, I can do that too. There’s already a small thing you need to do in there, but it’s not too long, I promise. Just a little form to get to know you guys a little better. And while you do that, I’ll pass out the syllabus to each of you.”

There’s a few groans, as expected. “I know, boring stuff, so I’ll go over it quickly.” He hands a stack to the first person in each row. “There’s only a few rules. One, if I’m doing a lecture, please pay attention. It’s for your education, and you can listen to music when doing your own work. Two, respect is a huge deal here. Respect others, and respect me, and we’ll be just fine. Three, put at least a little effort into everything you turn in. If you’re having issues, come talk to me. I’m here before school, during lunch, and after class. Except on Mondays, when the queer club is here.”

“And now that the big rules lecturing is out of the way, on the back of the syllabus is all the stories we will be reading, as well as when major projects will be started. After every story we will run a Socratic seminar. If you do not enjoy speaking, you can write a personal analysis on part of the story to show you understood some of it.”

Max takes a deep breath. “Alright, in the classroom is that form. There is also something that says its due next week, that is the first actual assignment. You are going to write about an important moment to you, or something that you hold dear. Either a recounting of it, a description of it, how it influenced or influences you, anything. You can even do multiple things, it just needs to be one page.”

There’s more groans, and Max laughs. “Welcome to senior English, everyone!”

-

@tylerisdone @redacted-thething @the-golden-dragoness

I hope you all enjoy, it feels a little awkward, but this is also technically the first day of school :) i really do have ideas for mr. divine, i promise

#original writing #max divine #p bangs the keys

[mca-attack21]

The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs

Hi guys! This mini-series is based off an episode of criminal minds called ‘Amplification’. You can find more of my writing on my Masterlist here.

Working alongside Sherlock and John  had put you in numerous compromising and even dangerous situations. It was not a rare occurrence to find yourself in harm’s way, but that never discouraged you. The way you had always viewed it was that John and Sherlock had gotten on fine before you, and they would continue in that fashion if for some reason you were incapacitated. Furthermore, you felt that there was no nobler way to die than saving/protecting the lives of others, especially those you cared about. This mindset of yours never faltered, even during “The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs” as John named it on his blog.

You were at the market when you got the call informing you to stop what you were doing and go outside where a car would be waiting for you. You were used to it by now, Mycroft was known to be the dramatic type. The ride was long and you wondered what the nature if thus case would be: Murder? Blackmail? Theft? National Security? Or, was it just Mycroft trying to get information on his little brother again? Whatever your thought process was during that car ride, it did not prepare you for what was coming next.

You were taken to Scotland yard which was swarming with various officials from detectives, to the military, to the CDC. You were led through to a room where Mycroft, John, and Sherlock sat.

“Okay, you may go now, shut the door on the way out,” Mycroft said to your escort.

As she did, he passed a folder to you, Sherlock, and John and began debriefing, “Yesterday 24 people checked into local area hospitals, all of them with the same symptoms, all of them had been at the same park around 4 pm yesterday. Now at just after 8 am, 14 of the 24 are dead. Lung failure and black legions among a myriad of other symptoms.” 

“Anthrax?” John asked.

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” you replied.

“Unless it has been genetically altered,” Sherlock surmised, “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a spiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. They are both odorless and invisible. The normal antidote is not effective against this strain,” Mycroft explained.

“Why exactly are we here?” John asked.

“We believe that this was a trial run, but don’t know what for. An outbreak in London would be detrimental, so we’ve called you lot in,” Mycroft replied, “You have full access to any resources you deem necessary,” he added handed you special badges, “Finally, here is Cipro, we don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s worth a shot. I wish you the best of luck.”

You, Sherlock, and John downed the pills and were left alone in the office as Mycroft had to step out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said, still trying to get your head around the idea. 

“It isn’t the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last,” Sherlock replied. 

“So, where do we even start?” John asked.

Over the next two days, the three of you visited the hospital and spoke with remaining victims, analyzed the strain in the lab, located a second but smaller attack that happened weeks ago but only affected 4 people, and started to narrow in on a suspect list. You also created a list of possible targets, however it was too large to do any good. The three of you had come to realize that you were looking for someone with a significant background concerning biological agents. You knew that the person you were looking for most likely was in cohorts with the military or CDC and had a relation with the bookstore that was the target of the first attack. It wasn’t long before Sherlock had discovered who was behind it all.

This led you and Sherlock along with a team from the CDC to the home of Alfred Wilson to further investigate. John was at the hospital lending his medical assistance. And Mycroft and his men went to Wilson’s workplace and other known frequented locations. You and Sherlock stood outside as you waited for the all-clear.

“While they are doing that we should probably take a look around,” Sherlock decided.

The two of you walked towards the back of the house looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock was distracted by a phone call from Mycroft explaining that the lab was clean and Wilson was still MIA. Sherlock turned to inform you of this news but realized that you had wandered off. 

“Y/n?” he called and looked for you. He found the path that you must have followed. “Y/n,” he called again. He saw the shack and darted towards it, “Y/n!”

That is when you came into his line of vision, “Sherlock get back! Get back, get out of here!” you shouted frantically locking the door. 

“Y/n? What are you doing? I don’t-” he started, but then he saw the broken container of white powder and the ventilation system. This was where Wilson had developed and even tested the strains. And you had already been exposed, which meant that if the Cipros was ineffective as it most likely would be against this mutated strain, you had less than 24 hours. 

He called Mycroft who got the necessary people there. They wanted to get you out and to the hospital as soon as possible, that was not your plan though.

“Y/n, the CDC is here, they are preparing to extract you,” Sherlock explained through the phone.

“There’s no point, I’ve already been infected, I might as well work to solve the case,” you argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mycroft interjected.

“Sherlock, take me off of speakerphone,” you ordered.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Sherlock humored you.

“Alright, well first off Dr. Wilson is dead, so we can rule him out. There are two workspaces and two sets of handwriting on the papers. So he either had a partner or protege,” you paused as a fit of coughing took over, “I’ve read through everything in here, the cure isn’t here. But maybe they can take the spores and reverse engineer them.” 

“Okay, Y/n. Is there anything else that sticks out to you?” he asked.

You were going to continue but the coughing took over again. You hung up the phone to spare Sherlock. By the time you caught your breath John was entering in an orange hazmat suit.

 “Orange is not your color,” you joked, “On a serious note how are the patients at the hospital?”

“Right now, let’s focus on you,” he redirected, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? I could give you something to ease the pain,” he explained.

“I’m fine and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” you snapped.

“Okay, no narcotics, got it,” he confirmed, “how can I help?” he asked.

“I read through all of the papers and none of them talk about the cure, but I think that it has to be in here somewhere. Probably hidden considering that Dr. Wilson was a former military scientist. He was paranoid and most likely tried to protect the cure from his partner. So look for something innocuous, something that you wouldn’t expect,” you explained, starting to feel slightly light-headed. That is when your phone rang again.

“Yes Sherlock?” you answered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That is irrelevant, why’d you call?”

“Mycroft said that Wilson’s co-workers were unaware of him having a partner. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?” 

You went over to the desk again scanning for what you missed. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but your brain was too foggy to see it. 

“Just list off everything that is on their desks,” Sherlock said wishing that he was in there with you.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” you replied, “Dr. Wilson was a professor. He has syllabi and a framed picture of him teaching. I even read a paper that he graded, or so I thought. He wouldn’t let just anyone into his lab but clearly,” you started before being interrupted by a wave of painful coughing, “he valued himself as an educator. What if the second desk wasn’t a partner, but a student? And the paper, it was formatted like a thesis. See if Mycroft can crossmatch the list of Wilson’s students and/or students at the university that Wilson taught at with past employees or customers of the bookstore.” 

“Okay, will do,” he said hanging up.

“Y/n, you did good, now we need to get you to the hospital,” John tried.

“Okay,” you conceded knowing that there wasn’t anything else you could do there. A couple of CDC workers came and took you to a decontamination shower that they had set up, with John close behind. 

“John, go help Sherlock,” you instructed.

“I’m gonna stay here and see you off to the hospital,” he insisted.

“I am about to be stripped down and bathed, my pride can’t take the thought of you witnessing that. Besides the way I see it, you can either stay here and watch me die or go out and prevent it from happening.”

“If you’re sure,” John replied, feeling torn. 

“Go on,” you reassured him.

———————

Tags: @fanfictionsilove​ @delightfulheartdream​ 

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes imagine

[notbecauseofvictories]

sarah, you know the most nitty gritty facts about the randomest of things. there are certain subjects that i want to learn more about and have drawn up mini syllabi for myself for them. so my qn is... do you have advice for going down reading rabbit holes? ie. “I want to learn about this sprawling topic ABC but only a have a “best books” reading list from google”. and how do you retain all that knowledge, esp if it’s just for personal interest? is there a way to be organised in this chaos?

I...think you might have the wrong blogger? My knowledge-acquisition strategies are decidedly scattershot: “huh that’s interesting, let me spend an hour clicking through wikipedia articles” or “that doesn’t seem right, I now need to waste an entire day figuring out why in painstaking detail.” I go to a lot of museums, join tours, will stop dead in the middle of a walk to read plaques, graves. (Graceland Cemetery recently answered one of my questions about plot-markers, I was thrilled.) I dig when following/reading up about things, from a lot of different news sources; I google with abandon. I follow thoughtful folks who refer me to things I never would have encountered, even if I had googled “gender stuff” or "best books about anti-imperialism.”

I will say that if you’re truly looking to build knowledge, versus memorizing a bunch of facts, those are very different projects. I think that when you’re swimming through information, the only truly important things to hold in your head are: (1) interest, taking wide-eyed curiosity and full-throated desire to learn and be challenged by what you learn as a starting point and guiding principle; and (2) deep & profound empathy. Together, these things enable you to take every fact, every bit of history, every story you’re told or political view spun out in your sight, as coming from an interesting and complicated person, and involving equally interesting, complicated persons. Embracing burgeoning curiosity and sincere empathy prevents you from reduction, simplicity, and confirmation of your preconceptions; it means you can’t automatically go with your gut or other existing biases.

Namely, you have to keep reading, accept being challenged by what you read, and thinking about bloggers, authors, and people in books and articles as people---equally human and complex as you yourself are. Entitled to differences, and worth hearing out so you can honestly and earnestly understand what they say, even if it’s to disagree with them.

Syllabi are helpful! The desire to learn is incredibly valuable, half the battle in and of itself. But facts are so rarely clear-cut, unambiguous statements about the world. If all you want is to memorize pub trivia, I have a list for that. (I was on a quiz-bowl team in high school, I can rattle off composers, major artworks, and bare-bones American history with the best of them.) But if what you’re looking for is to understand, to really and truly know, that’s a much bigger and harder project.

And, in my opinion, more valuable in the end.

#like. knowing george pullman was a chicagoan robber baron isn't even an unambiguous fact! #that is a statement inflected by my understanding of his labor practices; judgement about the ethics of those labor practices #AND what a tour guide told me (slash the tour group I was eavesdropping on) about how pullman was buried and why #all you can do is suck everything in and run it against your internal fact-checker about how people are just as complicated and confusing #as you are inside your own head #every person! every single one of them! no matter age color creed gender nationality whatever! #assume they are as fulsome complex as you yourself in your private moments #this is my advice on this subject #sarah gives advice

[iamartemisday]

Lokane, college au, meet cute, "wait, wait. say that again. please." :D

A/N: This is the last one I will do right now. Please do not send more. Thank you!

Jane checked her schedule. On Tuesday, she had Applied Mathematics at ten and then British Romanticism at twelve. At four, she’d have three full hours of Intro to Astrophysics. That class only met once a week, so she’d have to make all three of those hours count double. 

For the record, she was not an overachiever. Overachievers were people who greatly overestimated how much they could accomplish in a set amount of time and usually experienced massive burnout by the time the second semester rolled around. Jane, meanwhile, knew exactly how much she was capable, which was why she was only taking six classes and involved in two science clubs. Everything in moderation.

The student lounge was crowded today. In the first week of the new semester, Freshman from all over the world explored their temporary home and struggled to fit into the reality of college life. Jane could relate, this was way different from high school. There were no lockers, no bells, and the food in the cafeteria was actually worth eating. Seriously, this was one of the best Caesar salads she’d ever have. Tomorrow, she’d have to try the BLT. 

One thing that hadn’t changed, it seemed, were the cliques. A group of jock types was huddled around one of the mounted TVs shouting at a football game. Three girls had set up a mini-computer lab at the table by the door and barely said a word to each other as they typed. Another girl group on the couches giggled over the cute guy one of them saw in class. Jane listened in for a second and then went back to writing up her study schedule. There were fifteen weeks to go until the end of the semester, and she already felt like she was behind. In fact, maybe she should move this somewhere quieter. The last thing she needed right now was a distraction.

“Hello darling,” said a random guy with dark hair and green eyes as he sat down next to her. “Thank you for saving a seat for me.”

Jane stared at him. She blinked, but he was still there. “Uhh... say that again please?”

Smiling, he took her hand. “We should be going now. There should be a table free at our usual cafe.”

As skinny as he looked, his arms were like iron rods. Jane barely had time to gather her things before he was marching her out of the lounge and down the hall to the lobby. When the lounge was fully out of sight, he stopped turned to face her.

“I apologize for that. My name is Loki and that woman you saw is Lorelei.”

There were several women in the lounge from what Jane recalled. If she had to guess, he was talking about one of the giggly girls. “Ooookay.”

“She is obsessed with my older brother and has tried several times to win his heart, always to no avail as she is... put simply, a complete stalker.” Loki shrugged. “I happened to overhear her scouting you out for a plan to try and trick him into dating her.”

“How would that work?”

“I believe her logic is if she convinces you to pretend to like Thor and date him for a few weeks, he will become infatuated with you and so when you dump he will be devastated and then she can swoop in, dry his tears, and he will have no choice but to fall for her.”

Jane gawked at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I never said it was a smart plan,” Loki said. “Frankly, my brother's friends and I are exhausted of her and so we do whatever we can to foil her plans before they get off the ground. That was why I thought that pretending we are dating would throw her off your scent. Forgive me if I frightened you in any way.”

It didn’t occur to Jane to be scared until that very moment. The story he told was fantastic, like something out of a bad CW show. She couldn’t help but believe him, though. Maybe she was just a sucker for pretty blue eyes.

“Well, I hope you and your brother can keep away from her,” Jane said before a thought struck her. “Did she come to this school just to keep stalking you guys?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Jane shook her head. College: so different and yet so similar. “Well, if you ever need me to fake being your girlfriend again to get rid of her, let me know.”

He laughed. “I would love to if I knew your name.”

Oh, right. Man, she was dumb today. “Jane Foster, nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Loki said. “Now, I do feel like I owe you for the trouble. Might I buy you a coffee?”

She still had a schedule to finish, not to mention six different syllabi to go over before she went to bed tonight. For her, that could take hours. 

But what the hell?

“Yeah, I could for that.” 

And as they left the building together, Jane had a feeling she was going to like college much more than high school.

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #Prompt Fill #Ficlet