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blazing-emblem · 3 years

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FEH Height Chart (Book 1-4, Summoners)

Here I am, after 2 years?, finally back with an updated height chart!! These heights are based on if the character is standing straight up and with heels. If they’re slouching or bent over, that is not taken into consideration. For example, Helbini is slouched over in his art. How tall I put him in the chart is how tall he would be if he stood straight.

DISCLAIMER: While I do have proof for why most characters are as tall as they are in this chart, a few are still pretty vague about their heights, so I have given them estimations instead. These characters with vague heights are: Surtr, Hel, Eir, Freyr, Freyja, Plumeria, Triandra, Mirabilis, and Peony. Feel free to change these up to your liking!

Below are the proof and reasons of these heights. You don’t need to read it, but it’s here if you’re curious of what I have to say, like for example, why Loki and Thorr aren’t here, or why the cast of Book 5 was omitted, and others.

Any evidence I have taken is only of when characters are right next to each other, enough so that you can see their height differences without much distortions from perspective or weird angles.

Askr and Embla

I was lucky to find a FEHkoma chapter where these three are standing together. Anna is not present in any of the animations, so she was the hardest to figure out how tall she is for the longest time. In Three Houses, Anna is 168 cm (~5'6"), but since the Heroes cast has no definitive height listed like in 3H, it’s hard to compare. So this shot from one of the chapters was a good find. From tallest to shortest, Alfonse>Anna>Sharena

Now this might seem a bit of a stretch, but the reason why I took this as canon is that all of these heroes are drawn by different artists, thus giving them different proportions because they were drawn by different people. But IntSys scaled these artworks like this for a reason right? I had to move Lif and Thrasir a bit lower because their feet weren’t on the same level as the others, but other than that, these heights look valid.

Another evidence can be found in Dragalia Lost where both Alfonse and Veronica are right next to each other. In the Valentine’s Day screenshot, Veronica is around where Alfonse’s eyes would be, and in the screenshot below, that is about how tall she ends up.

Here are for Lif and Thrasir (clearer version), and one for Bruno and Veronica.

As for Alfonse and Sharena, it was noted in Book 2, that Sharena was quite short. But in Book 3, it seemed she grew a bit taller, so I took the latter version as the one being canon. You might say that’s Lif’s Sharena, and thus should be different than our Sharena, but the FEHkoma chapter above makes Sharena the same height as the one shown in Book 3.

The results of the Askran and Emblian height differences was interesting. Gustav is the tallest character, with Bruno following next, and then Lif. Among the adult ladies, Henriette is tallest, then Thrasir, then Anna.

Nifl and Muspell

This is the screenshot that shows how tall Fjorm is against the Askran siblings. Since Alfonse and Sharena are pretty much a solid place to compare heights to, it makes Fjorm’s height a good place to start for comparing the heights of the Book 2 characters.

This is also how tall Sharena was before Book 3.

These two artworks below were drawn by Shigeki Maeshima himself. As the artist of Book 2, how tall he draws his characters would be pretty valid. A nice thing that both Laevatein and Laegjarn were drawn against Fjorm.

And the last of the remaining Book 2 characters were luckily found in the FEHkoma.

Hrid and Helbindi are both taller than Leagjarn, however, both are a bit vague on how much exactly taller they are, so I made them both as tall as Lif. It works out because Ylgr, who is as tall as Helbindi’s chest area, is as tall as Gunnthra’s chin. And Gunnthra is a bit taller than Fjorm, who I have said before is a good place to start comparing heights to.

As mentioned before, the only one who doesn’t have proof of their height is Surtr. It’s shown in the Book 2 trailer that is he quite tall, and even his sprite is the largest humanoid, biped sprite in the game so far. But that is all that’s known about his height. How tall he is to Alfonse, Sharena, or Fjorm is not clear. So I made him as tall as Gustav, who is the tallest proven character in the game.

Hel, Ljósálfheimr, and Dökkálfheimr

Now these characters...most of these are vague comparisons. Most of them have scenes together, but there are not against Alfonse or Sharena, hence why I said they have vague heights. Take these as a grain of salt.

Like with Surtr, I made Hel as tall as Gustav. Her body proportions in her art shows that she’s quite the lanky lady, which means she is tall. In the only scene she has with Alfonse with them "standing” (they are bent over), she is tall. Though how much exactly isn’t clear.

What we can know from Hel and Eir, is that Eir is as tall as Hel’s chin.

Same problem. These two have heights compared to each other, but not to either Alfonse or Sharena. So as a “base”, I just made Freyr as tall as Lif.

At least these next characters have some base, still not solid though.

In Dragalia Lost, Sharena mentions that Peony is nearly her size. Which backs up this scene in the Book 4 animation where Sharena walks in front of a mirror and Peony shows up instead of her reflection. You could say that this is to show that they switched places in the past, and the Sharena now could not be the true Sharena. Even in the Book 3 ending animation, when Veronica switched to Thrasir, their models were the same height, when it is now clear that Veronica is shorter than Thrasir. This was to show that they were the same person. That reasoning could apply here as well with Sharena and Peony.

But it’s something for Peony, so I went with it. I made Peony as tall as Sharena.

Now that we have some base for Peony, her scenes with Mirabilis and Triandra shows how tall they are in relation to the other characters.

In this scene with Mirabilis and Peony, there’s a bit of an angle and perspective that needs to be taken into consideration, but it wasn’t too drastic that I couldn’t use it. Because of perspective, Peony appears to be taller than Mirabilis, hence why I made Mirabilis as tall as Peony instead of shorter than her.

And lastly, Plumeria. Other than the Book 4 ending animation, there isn’t much material of her for me to use. But I couldn’t use the Book 4 ending animation because the perspective and angles were making it hard for me to compare her to Triandra. All I got from it was that she looked taller than Triandra.

So I made Plumeria as tall as Henriette. But Plumeria could be as tall as Frejya, who turned out to be a bit taller than Triandra. As long as Triandra is the shortest dokkalfr, you are close to canon.

Unmentioned Characters

Loki and Thor were omitted because it was very hard to find how tall they are in relation to the other characters. Even in Dragalia Lost and in the FEHkoma, they are seen by themselves, with each other, or hard to decipher because of the angle/perspective. I could have just put them in like I did with Hel and Eir (I didn’t include them at the start), but what made me include them in the end was because we know Hel is very tall, and that was enough to give me a comparison. Oh Hel’s tall? Let’s make her as tall as the tallest guy.

What we do know is how tall Loki and Thor are compared to each other because of Shigeki Maeshima. If Loki were to straighten up, she appears to be the same height as Thor, or she might be slightly shorter.

For the Book 5 characters, since there’s barely any content with them currently, so I have decided to omit them from the chart. We know they are short though since we were told, but I forgot where exactly. Reginn is shown to be as tall as Sharena, so Otr and Fafnir might be as tall as Alfonse or shorter.

Dagr was drawn taller than Nott in the promotional art, but in the Book 5 trailer, Dagr was shown to be shorter. Sooooo I am confusion

Summoners

I’ve been asked by @charlie-darkheart-roxas to include the custom Summoners in here too, so here they are. I didn’t include them in the overall chart though. Photoshop was already dying with the characters I have put in, and to add 7 more? Photoshop will kill my laptop. They’re compared to Alfonse anyways, so if you want to compare how tall a Summoner is to someone else, compare that character to Alfonse too, and there you go.

How did I manage to get heights from the different summoners even though most have never appeared in an animation? Simple.

Hooded Kiran is already shown to be taller than Alfonse in the Book 2 trailer, I think around Henriette’s height. Now selecting all the layers (in Photoshop) the Summoners are on, and scaling everyone at the same time, it keeps everyone in proportion to the Hooded Kiran.

And then I put them on the same “floor” so that they are on even ground. Surprisingly, the Summoners do have different heights. I’m surprised how short the white-haired Summoner is, and that the orange-haired Summoner is taller than the Hooded one.

Though of course, how tall the Summoner is, is up to you as the player in the end.

And that’s all for my updated height chart! I hope this helps you creatives out there with whatever you need this height chart for. I’ll do this again in a couple of years (maybe), or someone else do it for us ahaha

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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A Legacy Begun (5)

gif not mine. found and saved in pinterest

Chapter 5: The Child | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt + their follow-up prompt & fic idea

A/N: Don’t worry, no one died of sadness after giving birth.

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The months flew by, it only felt like yesterday when you told the news and now you’re currently in the ninth month. Any day now, the baby would be due. But you haven’t felt the signs yet.

The feeling of not holding a lightsaber and seeing action for a while was perhaps the biggest adjustment you’ve ever made; recalling the years where you’ve kept yourself low from the Imperials’ radar and having to limit the times you held your saber, this was far different than that.

To pass the time, you and Cal often strolled together just to keep yourself active. The Mantis continued its travels from time to time, but it would always find itself home in Cerinda and would occasionally return to Bogano for old time’s sake. The two of you stopped by the stream that branched out of the lake, something about that part of the forest became like a magnet to the both of you. Even in your expectant state, you were still the same sprightly girl who would dip her toes into the cold water at any given chance.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. Beaming brightly and excitedly as you spoke, “I want to have our baby in this one planet that my master and I used to go to for a campaign.”

“Oh?” Cal propped his cheek against his fist, dreamily gazing at you while you pluck flowers by the shoreline and set them floating into the gentle current.

“The planet, Ilaro,” you craned your head to him. “It’s a neutral planet by the Outer Rim, but it’s very peaceful there. No Imperials, no fighting,”

He heard you sigh as you daydream about the planet in your mind. He kept smiling as he listened.

“If only you’ve seen it, Cal—oceans clear and bright blue like the sky that they almost conjoin, the city that Master and I went to was so extravagant yet quaint, much like Reema here but a bit bigger,” you trail off, and then smiled as the last, finishing thought entered your mind and turned to your husband. “And oh, I know the perfect place for us: by the hillside north of the city. There’s another town there, it’s small but I think it’ll do for us,”

He hummed in reply, enamored by your idea but mostly at your radiance. You couldn’t stay mad at him for only half-listening. You’re endeared by his droopy, dreamy eyes and the smile that still stood out even through his stubble that he personally kept to a certain thinness of his liking.

“What is it?” you giggled.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he cooed. “I just can’t help but stare even while you talk, I’m sorry.”

You caress his scruffy jaw, he willingly inches to you as he comes in for a kiss. You secretly chuckled when his stubble tickled you and you liked it when he did.

“I can’t stay mad, darling,”

That afternoon, you tended to the plants in the terrarium, shearing the weeds and other overgrowth that crowded the soil bed. It sooner became half a flower garden and a half a medicinal herb garden, you and Merrin shared sides of the terrarium respectively; Greez was cooking up some lunch while Cere continued her favorite pastime of splicing and hacking Imperial communications, but also found out about how to trace long-range frequencies as far as two to three parsecs.

“Have you ever thought if they’re a boy or a girl, [y/n]?”

“I have, but my mind changes every now and then—one day I’ll think it’s a boy, and then the next it’s a girl,” you chuckled. “Cal and I have been debating the same thing.”

“You’re at your ninth month, anyway. I’m sure it’ll come soon,”

“Yes, soon,” you trailed off echoing the Nightsister’s words.

Later, Cal came back with game that he had hunted in the forest’s inner meadows. One of Cerinda’s fauna that you’ve found a taste for was the Chorcap—a medium-sized, horned quadrupedal animal, it was slightly shorter than a Nerf in height and less hairy too, but it was stocky in build, making it prized for their meat. Merchants in Reema would buy for the horns, butchers would get portioned cuts, and Cal would haggle with those butchers for the portions.

“I’m back,” Cal chirped as he entered the ship. “Got some extra Chorcap on the road.”

“Oh finally! I thought this stew would never be done if it weren’t for you,” Greez grunted.

“Relax, Greez, here—the seasonings you asked for,”

Cal tossed a pouch to Greez to which the captain expertly caught with his bottom right arm and continued to stir the pot. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you tended the little indoor garden and seated himself by the dining table.

“That smells good!” your husband exclaimed.

“Without these spices, my stew would be as bland as unfermented Merenzane Gold!”

From time to time, you’d conceal your expressions whenever your belly contracted. You’ve pretty much anticipated the baby’s due, but it was the pain that you tried to hide—not wanting to disturb everyone at your expense.

Minutes later, Greez called everybody for lunch, you helped in setting the table and serving out the helpings for each plate. The aroma of the stew wafted around the Mantis, making all the stomachs rumble, and come running towards the table. Lunch became more animated as conversations and topics volleyed here and there. You turned to BD-1 perched over the rim of the table between the lounge.

“Say, BD, do you still have the scan of the Binog?”

“What for?”

“Oh, you’ll see, hon,” you ended it with a smile.

After lunch and helping with the dishes, you retreated to the bedroom with BD-1 perched over your shoulder. You seated yourself by the workbench, producing spools of thread, buttons, filler cotton, and fabrics of different colors—all coming from the business district in Reema. You produced a holodisk and held it close to the droid

“Can you transfer the Binog’s hologram scan here, BD?”

“Wooo!” the little droid whirred out its splicer and connected itself to the holodisk’s port. Seconds later, the hologram of the great creature of Bogano flickered above the holodisk’s projector.

“Thank you, BD,” you rewarded the droid with head pats before starting with your work.

You drew patterns for each part of the animal and then sheared them piece by piece. Holding them together with pins, you started sewing the main body first—leaving an opening for the stuffing later—and then moved on to the legs and tail. Your slender fingers gracefully twisted, curled, and threaded with the stitches as you went on—pushing the needle and then pulling the thread—until it was starting to take shape. Glancing at the projection every once in a while to check if you’re getting the likeness correctly.

“Booo!”

“That’s right, BD, I’m making the Binog—though a smaller version, for the small one,” you cooed.

When the limbs and tail have joined the body and head, the next step was to sew in the fins that lined its spine all the way to the tail and its ears. You had the patterned fabrics at the ready, you just needed to stitch them. Cal walked in to the bedroom, finding you sitting back relaxed while sewing together a toy Binog.

“That’s actually pretty cute,” he beamed.

“Thank you, but it’s not finished yet,”

The finishing touches were the button eyes. A pair of solid black buttons were secured in an X-like stitch on its head. Two tiny white triangles were sewn along the mouth for its fangs that peeked out even with the actual creature’s mouth closed. Finally, BD-1 helped you stuff the toy with the cotton since his little claws could fit the openings you left for each body part.

“Thanks for your help, BD,” you sealed the filler openings and held it in your hand. “There we go!”

“That’s adorable,” your husband commented.

Even if it was never your intention to worry everybody—your husband, especially—you just couldn’t control the instance where your knees buckle and your muscles felt like tightening with a great force. As you struggled to stand up, everybody in the ship was alarmed by your cry of pain. All of a sudden, the swirling in your stomach started to tense up.

“The baby’s coming…!” you struggled to calmly breathe.

“Cere! Merrin!” Cal cried, scooping you up from your seat at the workbench and carefully settling you down on the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening!?” Greez was infected with the same panic and alarm as the two ladies. The captain definitely heard your cries, he just didn’t think the baby was coming now.

Your ankles jerked as your toes curled tightly, your hand gripped the sheets as you tried to fight off the contraction pains. Cal ignored the hard grip that’s crumpling his sleeve as you broke down sobbing in pain.

“I know a place!” Cere exclaimed. “Captain, set a course to Polis Massa! Grid coordinates K-20, NOW!”

“It’s two parsecs away via jump to hyperspace!” Greez argued.

“Captain, just do it!” the woman snapped back.

“You’re gonna be okay, [y/n], do you hear me?” Cal’s voice cracked while squeezing back your free hand.

“[y/n], breathe,” Merrin calmly chanted, it became her mantra to you as the minutes went on.

The jump to lightspeed felt like an eternity as you battled the excruciating pain. Your body tossed and turned, finding a position where the cramping hurt less. Your legs thrashed, your vision blackened around the edges as you struggled to breathe in a slow pace—it only lessened the cramping to an extent but you don’t know for how long you could hold it.

Cere came barging in the bedroom.

“We’re near our destination. How is she holding up?”

“She’s trying to breathe calmly, I strongly object in using my magick on her,” the Nightsister reported.

“My head is burning!”

Cal pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, “She’s having a fever! How much farther until we reach Polis Massa?”

Before Cere could reply, the feedback of Greez’s microphone crackled through the speakers.

“Hold on, folks! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” the Lateron announced.

Cere sprang back to the cockpit, swerving and catching her balance as the ship rumbled. The turbulence didn’t help much, but you kept holding onto Cal’s hand.

“Cere, you didn’t tell me that we’re running into an asteroid field!”

“Because Polis Massa is on the asteroid field!”

“And this is a medical station we’re talking about!”

Greez steered closer to the largest asteroid until he found a cluster of silver infrastructures sticking out on the largest rock in the field. Cere had no further qualms about that, she turned and tapped the buttons and knobs on her communication station in the ship to send the urgent transmission.

“This is Jedi Cere Junda, we are in need of urgent medical assistance! A crew member has gone into labor and is about to give birth, please!”

“Transmission verified, you are allowed to dock. We’ll have a ward and medical droids ready for her,”

The medical droids stationed there were on full alert, a couple of the wardens came out of the building with a gurney prepared for you as they anticipated your arrival. The ship maneuvered and hovered carefully by the landing pad.

“We’re here,” Cal whispered to you, hoping to console you.

“Where are we?” you murmured.

“Polis Massa,” he scooped you up from the bed, carried you all the way out of the Mantis and then laying you down on the gurney waiting for you.

The female wardens briskly pushed your gurney towards the medical bay and then to the available ward that was ready for you. The human nurses cooed and whispered to you in comforting, melodic voices; coaxing you and telling you everything down to the littlest detail.

“We’re going to carry you to the next bed, alright?”

“Okay…” you replied, your eyes were too heavy to direct your vision to whichever nurse was speaking to you.

The nurses traded diagnoses with one another and then relayed them to the medical droids, reflecting your vital signs onto their computers and holographs.

“Vitals are fine, no remarkable findings,”

“Blood pressure is stable,”

The nurses helped you lift up your knees as a midwife droid hovered slowly towards you. The entire crew watched through the glass wall of your room, they all leaned against the opposite wall but it was your husband who eagerly stayed behind the glass.

“Is she going to be alright?” he asked the one nurse who exited your room.

“Yes, it’s good that you’ve brought her here on such short notice,”

“We were only two parsecs away from here,” Cere added.

The nurse had allowed Cal to enter the ward—for only one non-patient was permitted to accompany the patient—he sat by your side, close to your head. He stroked your hair as you take deep breaths before pushing.

Cal watched the red fill your cheeks as you tried to push, following the pace of the midwife droid that’s coaxing you. He ignored your screeching cries, he wiped away the tears that rolled away from your eyes as you breathed through clenched teeth, preparing for the next.

An infant cry filled the room, Cal’s head instantly turned to the end of the bed where the midwife droid held your newborn—he watched the droid clean the infant on the spot and swaddle it in a soft, white sheet. He stood up and held the tiniest human being he’s ever seen in his entire life. A tinge of orange strands adorned the little one’s head.

“It’s a girl,” he gasped.

He approached you with your daughter in his arms, he held her close to you so you may look at her crumpled, crying little face.

“Cassidy,” you whispered.

Cal heard you utter the name. You traded glances and he smiled. A teardrop glimmered at the edge of his eye.

“Cassidy.” He echoed. The baby’s tiny hand hooked around his finger and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart burst out of his ribs, “My little Cassidy.”

He held his baby daughter right in front of him. Dark, round, shining eyes blinked back at him as Cassidy’s stubby arms squirmed, lightly hitting his cheeks and jaw with smooth, soft hands.

“She has your eyes,” Cal choked.

“She has your hair,” you manage a chuckle.

“You did great, darling,” he sat down, level to you and planted a kiss on your forehead while the Mantis crew watched the little family have their greatest moment yet.

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mishaandthebrits · 5 years

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Daddy Dean

Imagine being Dean's daughter and meeting him for the first time when your mother died. Reader is 4 years old in this one. (The Photo because it's just sooooooo adorable!!!)

You nervously held your aunties hand and looked up at her with your big Y/E/C eyes. "Why am I only meeting daddy now?", you asked and she chuckled quietly. After all it was the third time you asked her this today. "Because your mummy is with the angels now and she wanted you to live with your family. So now darling, you have to be strong for your mommy and for teddy. Your daddy will wait at the airport for you once you land and you know how he looks. Keep the photo close okay?", she kneeled down and smiled before pressing a kiss to your hairline and hugging you one last time before the stewardess lead you to the plane with your tiny suitcase, the photo and your teddy.

The flight had been super long and you kept talking with the staff the whole time. You and teddy even got to meet the captain! Too soon you approached Kansas City Airport though. To say you were nervous was an understatement, but you had promised your auntie to be strong, so you did. The thought of your daddy and his brother never left your brain though. What if they didn't want you? You pulled your suitcase behind you when you entered the international arrivals area. Looking around you spotted the man from the picture and walked up to him with your tiny feet. Once there you pulled on his jacket because he paid no attention to you. "Oh hello, are you lost?", he asked smiling and kneeled down so he was on the same height as you. You shook your head and handed him the letter and photo your mum had given you before she left. The male frowned and unfolded it scanning the page quickly before looking at you kind of shocked. "Dean? Who's that?", another male asked standing besides your dad and you noticed how he looked like your mother had described Sam. "My... my daughter Y/N.", your dad mumbled making you smile. "Hi daddy! Me is very happy to meet you!", you grinned hugging him before taking a hold of your suitcase and teddy again. After a bit of staring and adult talk the brother finally decided to get you into the car and home. "Y/N? How old are you now?", Sam asked. "4!", you proudly answered and showed him four fingers. "And your mum let you fly alone at that age?", he frowned turning around from the passenger seat. "No, my mummy is with the angels now, auntie sat me in the plane because mommy wanted me to live with daddy.", you explained and Sam nodded. "Oh I'm sorry darling." "No no, mummy was amazing, but she was sick and in lots of pain, so she is better now.", you smiled shocking him with your words. He soon turned back around and stayed quiet for a while. You leaned forward and tapped his shoulder lightly causing him to look at you again. "Yes sweetheart?", he smiled softly. "Can I call you uncle Sammy?", you tilted your head and he nodded. "Yes you can Y/N.", Uncle Sammy grinned when a weird sound caused you to turn to your left to see someone sitting there. "Hello Dean. Sam. Tiny human.", the male nodded, then tilted his head at you. "Dean, why is there a tiny version of you with a very high intellect in the backseat?", he added making your daddy groan. "It's my daughter Cas. Meet Y/N. Y/N darling, this is my friend Castiel. He is an angel.", your father explained and you gasped surprised. "Do you know my mommy then? She is with the angels now!", you curiously asked and he nodded. "Yes I do. She has a really nice heaven filled with you and Dean and also Sam and a cat.", he replied emotionless and you giggled. "Mrs. Caticorn is there too. Me is glad mommy isn't alone. Can you tell her me found daddy please? She will worry.", you asked again and the angel nodded smiling. "I will once I am back in heaven, I promise you little human.", the angel nodded then turned back to Dean. "What I came here for, Crowley is in the bunker waiting for you. It's about some demon acting up and apparently he needs your help. I will go and deliver Y/N's message now, then I will meet you at the bunker.", he informed then left with the same weird sound. "Who is cowley?", you mumbled to your dad and uncle and they sighed. "A friend of ours, he is not very nice, but he is loyal. You know what that means Y/N?", your daddy asked and smiled seeing you nod. "You're really smart aren't you?", he then looked at you making you blush. "Mommy had me in the advanced program in my school. But I was the youngest there and I didn't like it.", you pouted turning their looks into those of sympathy. The rest of the car ride was mostly silent. Sometimes you sang along to songs you knew quietly and Sam and Dean told you about their family, so your granny and grandpa and uncle Bobby. They also told you more about Crowley and Castiel and you decided that you liked them both. "Hello uncle cowley!", you yelled giggling and ran to the man dressed in all black that stood in the living room. "Moose? Squirrel? Why is there a tiny creature with you?", he asked patting your head awkwardly. "Dean's daughter.", Sam commented pulling your suitcase down a hallway making you quickly let go and running behind him. "I'll be back uncle cowley!", you shouted finally catching up to Sammy. "Sammy? Where is we going?", you tilted your heas and took his hand carefully. "Your new room. It's right beside Dean's and later we will go and get things for your room to decorate okay? In all your favorite colors, hm?", the tall man suggested and you nodded. "Pink! And purple!", you clapped exited and Sam joined you. "Whatever you want darling!", he agreed smiling widely while Dean watched from the door happily. Happy that Sam had found his laughter again and happy that he had a reason to hold on to life now. Of course a lot would change, but he was certain your smile would make it all worth it.

#daddy #dean #cute #fluff #adorable #supernatural #x reader #spn #supernatural x reader #reader #daddy dean

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aamccarthy · 5 years

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Lucifer and Thomas - The Box

Lucifer and Thomas

I decided to continue the Lucifer and Thomas story I worked on. It’s up on Wattpad in draft form currently.

https://www.wattpad.com/729010019-lucifer-and-thomas-the-visitor

Below is chapter three - enjoy!

Lucifer and Thomas Master List

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/186855778-lucifer-and-thomas

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

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Lucifer shifted in his sleep. There was a strange sound outside his chamber.

Was that… Chirping? The fuck? Birds aren’t in his realm. “Levi! Can you find out wha’ tha’ noise is?” He called out, his hand over his eyes. He stopped. That wasn’t his voice. It sounded like a young boy, “The fu-?”

“LUCE!” A sudden bundle of something tackled him, knocking him off the mattress. His golden eyes widened and he noticed brown eyes, looking at him with excitement. “You’re awake!”

Lucifer blinked as he realised what was happening. That’s right.

He tilted his head and looked around. Thomas had successfully pinned him to the ground, his hands held down Lucifers arms, and Thomas’ body held down his lower half.

Lucifer smirked, indecent thoughts darting across his mind, “Geez, Thomas.” He purred seductively, “I didn’t realise you liked me that much.”

“Of course I like you! You’re my friend!” Thomas let go of Lucifer’s arms and quickly hugged him.

Crap. Lucifer wanted to mentally whack himself in the head. This wasn’t some adult human filled with lust and indecent thoughts, it was some kid with a bright and sparkly soul. A complete innocent. Urrrgggghhhh… He rolled his eyes then awkwardly pet Thomas on the back.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Now, let me get up.” He rolled his eyes, pushing Thomas off him.

“MUUUUUUUUUUUM!” Thomas suddenly yelled out of nowhere.

Lucifer’s eyes widened, Fuckity hell damnation, that was loud!

“WHAT’S FOR BREAKFAST?!” Thomas continued to bellow down the hall. Lucifer reached forward and wrapped his arm around Thomas’ head then covered his mouth.

“Holy shit, kid. A little warning, please!” He stared at the wide eyed boy, still reeling at the volume the kid produced.

Thomas wriggled out of the head hold, plonking onto the floor. “Sure!” He smiled brightly.

Alice poked her head into the room, “Get dressed boys, we have hashbrowns and bacon for breakfast. After that, you can open your presents.”

Thomas let out a large yell, grabbing a shirt and some pants before he tore out of the room, stripping as he went, tossing his pajamas in the hallway.

Lucifer simply stared after him, his mouth agape. Were kids always like this? Alice seemed to have guessed what Lucifer was thinking and laughed, “Thomas has always been an excitable child.” She reached over and petted him on the head. “Thank you for staying over. It’s the first time he’s had a friend do this.” She smiled warmly down at him.

Lucifer felt his cheeks get hot, he glanced down at his hand, opening and closing it. No… he wasn’t on fire, so why did he feel hot? He couldn’t bring himself to look at Alice in the eyes either. Staring at the ground, he could feel the warmth of her hand, and the amount of love she had for her son. Her emotions rolled over him, warmth, gratitude, love, happiness. “Y-you’re welcome.” Lucifer stammered quietly.

The moment she lifted her hand, the warmth he felt left. Alice smiled at him again before leaving him to get changed.

That was so strange. He had never felt like that before. He was used to feeling all kinds of human emotions, but like Thomas, his mother was pure.

He shrugged off the slightly too small pajama top and pants. They had belonged to Thomas and Alice seemed to have believed his story about forgetting all his clothes. Lucifer plodded over to the drawers, opening them as he tried to find something to wear. He screwed up his nose in disgust, most of the shirts had kids prints on them, like dinosaurs or cars.

He closed his eyes and patted at his chest, and a black suit with a red button down top appeared upon his person. “Noooooo, you are not wearing that! That is SO embarrassing!” Thomas stood behind him at the door.

Lucifer turned around, pulling on the collar and adjusting his tie, “I think it’s very smart.” He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a smaller version of a businessman.

“Please get changed!” Thomas begged.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and twirled his finger around. The suit vanished, now replaced with a simple red t-shirt and black cargo shorts. “Better?”

“Yes! NOWLETSGO!” Thomas grabbed him by the arm and raced out of the room with him, nearly dropping him down the staircase.

Breakfast was uneventful. Tasted good though. Lucifer munched on a bit of bacon as he glanced over at the TV. There was a news article on with a happy couple crying while hugging their two children. “Isn’t that lovely?” Alice commented.

Looks like Jolly Saint Dick pulled off his Christmas miracle after all.

Once breakfast was finished, Alice gathered up the plates and Thomas kept rocking back and forth on his chair, “Can we open them yet? Can we? Can we?!”

“Yes, yes. Go on.” Alice sighed, smiling at her son.

Lucifer trotted over, watching in curiosity. He knew what Christmas was, and had seen it, but never partook in it. “You can sit here.” Thomas pointed to a cushion on the ground, excitedly. Lucifer plonked himself down, his golden eyes watching as Alice started to sort out the presents.

His eyes narrowed as she held her head for a moment, almost as if she had a headache, and blinked confusion, “Luce, I forgot… your presents.” She mumbled, squinting at him.

“It’s OK, Mrs Wood.” Lucifer smiled as his eyes glowed, “Remember, my dad wanted me to open all my presents at home?”

“Ah,” she lowered her hand, the headache had disappeared, “That’s right. We dropped them off. Sorry, I couldn’t remember.”

“It’s OK.” He flashed her another smile as the glow from his eyes stopped.

Lucifer sat crossed-legged, his elbow resting on his knee, and his chin in hand, watching as Thomas opened up gifts from various relatives. A jumper from his grandparents, a new toy train from his aunt and uncle, some Lego from his cousins, a car themed bedsheet and school bag from his mother. He observed the emotions that filtered through Thomas, like currents in the ocean, it was a constant wave of happiness with each peak bursting into excitement when he opened the gift.

There was one last gift under the tree, Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t noticed it before. It was a small box, covered in black, shiny wrapping with a simple purple bow. Alice reached over to grab it then winced, dropping it. “I got zapped!” She exclaimed, “Must be static electricity.”

Lucifer reached over and grabbed the gift. His eyes darkened. There was demonic energy coming from within it. It was a mini Pandora’s Box. He knew it. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have agreed to become this boy’s “friend”. He was a pure soul, it hadn’t even been 24 hours and already the boy was being targeted.

“Luce?” Thomas asked, questionly, his face was filled with worry.

Lucifer smiled brightly, “Sorry! It looks like this one was mine. I think Dad must have left it here. I don’t want to open it here, is it OK if I open it at home?”

“That’s fine. I’m sure your father is looking forward to opening presents with his son.” Alice replied, a warm smile on her face. “Tell you what boys.” She leaned forward, “How about I tidy up this mess here, and Thomas you walk Luce back to his Dad’s house? Then Luce can open his present at home and won’t have to wait.”

“That would be great, thank you Mrs Wood.”

Lucifer held the black gift in his hand tightly and grabbed Thomas with his other hand, leading him out the door. He needed to show him.

He wasn’t good at words, but perhaps he could scare the boy. Show him just what powers were after him now that they had become friends. Lucifer walked down the end of the street towards the park, half dragging, half pulling Thomas along. “Luce, wait. You are walking too fast.”

“We need to get away from your house.” He gritted his teeth. He could feel anger flowing through him. He was going to find out who left this box in Thomas’ house and make them pay. But first, the boy needed to abandon him.

If he sees what demons are, sees what is inside this box, surely the boy will give up their friendship?

“Luce! Wait! Ah-!” Lucifer felt Thomas slip from his hand and he turned around, just to witness the brown haired boy face plant it on the concrete. “Owwww…”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He was so absorbed in his thoughts, that he hadn’t realised he was pulling too hard. Lucifer pocketed the box, and pulled Thomas upright, brushing him down. He grimaced as he saw the large gash on the boy’s forehead and blood drip down. Reaching forward, he wiped the blood away, looking at it on his hand. He licked the blood out of curiosity.

“Ewwwww! Don’t lick it! That’s gross!” Thomas cried out, aghast.

Lucifer smirked, “I was simply curious.” He held his other hand in front of his forehead, “Hold still a sec, will ya?” With that his hand started to glow, the blood disappeared and the gash healed.

“Woooooow, that is so coooooool!” Thomas exclaimed, trying to look cross eyed at his forehead. Lucifer smiled and flicked him in the forehead.

“I’ll show you something cooler.” His smile dropped as he snapped his fingers and fire burst around his form, growing to his full seven foot height, fur grew on his legs as his cloven hooves burst from his shoes, and his tail sprung out. The red flicks on either side of his head twisted together and grew out into horns, and at the same time, all colour drained from the world around them, rendering everything grey.

“Erm… What’s going on?” Thomas looked around, worriedly.

“It’s a barrier. This way no one can see us. And nothin’ can escape.”

“Whyyyyyy?” Thomas dragged the question out, eying Lucifer questionably.

“Because of this.” He pulled out the small black wrapped present, holding it in the palm of his hand. Lucifer blinked, Thomas was gone. Had the boy legged it already? He glanced behind him and saw Thomas trying to clamber up his back. “... What are you doing?”

“Trying to see. You’re too tall.”

“I’m not a tree.”

“You’re still too tall.” Thomas hung over Lucifer’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his neck and his head ducked slightly trying to avoid his horns.

Lucifer sighed, and reached behind him, plucking Thomas by the shirt and holding him in midair. He let go, but before Thomas could fall, a red glow emerged from around him, forming an orb around the boy, suspending him in place. “Can you still see?”

“Yeah!” Thomas stood up in the orb, excitedly pressing his face up against the wall of the orb.

“That will keep you safe. Now, watch carefully.” Lucifer pulled away at the unassuming purple ribbon, removing the black paper. Surely, once he saw what was inside Pandora’s Box, the boy would be fearful and never want to be by his side again. His insides twisted slightly and he felt a strange emotion.

Shaking his head, he ignored it as he pulled away the last bit of paper. Inside was a wooden box, engraved upon the outside were humans, their mouths open in silent screams. Lucifer held out his other hand and his pitchfork appeared. “This, is a version of Pandora’s Box. It houses demons which are used to corrupt and kill humans.” He grimanced and lifted the lid.

Screams filled the air and all at once countless demons streamed out in all directions, rushing away in the grey environment. They were all different forms from human nightmares. Filled with teeth and in some cases, rotting bodies. The demons squealed and screamed, attempting to escape and it would seem as if one got away, but it would then reappear in front of Lucifer. Same rushed forward at Thomas, bashing up against the red orb, attempting to break the wall. Thomas fell back with a gasp, his hands over his mouth, his brown eyes wide.

Lucifer growled as he started to attack. Blue flames lit up his pitchfork and he slashed at each of the demons that appeared, each dissolving into black mist. A couple of the demons were able to evade his attacks, so Lucifer stabbed his pitchfork into the ground, and instead surrounded himself with small blue flame orbs. Shooting them off, they honed in on the targets, destroying the last of the demons. Lucifer frowned, he hadn’t hoped to show this part of Hell to the young boy, but maybe, maybe now he would be scared enough to tell him to go away. He felt his insides twist again as the thought floated through his mind. He turned and looked at Thomas, who still stood there with his hands over his mouth.

“Yer, alrigh' kiddo?”

Thomas dropped his hands, “That. Was. Freaking. AWESOME!” Thomas exclaimed.

Lucifer widened his golden eyes in surprise. “Really?” He scoffed as he leaned up against his pitchfork. “What part was?”

“The part where you went WOOSH and the demon went EERIGGGHH and BWAH! Then it disappeared and the part where you got the fire and it went WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH and EEEE. YOU ARE LIKE THE COOLEST PERSON I KNOW!” His eyes were wide and shining.

Lucifer blinked in surprised and he grinned as he dropped back into his child form. “Heh, OK.” He snapped his fingers and the orb disappeared, causing Thomas to fall to the ground, but Lucifer quickly caught him, holding him bridal style.

“So. Cool.” Thomas’ hands were bunched up into little fists and a huge grin was on his face.

“You’re not scared?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You know, those things like to come after me. And if they come after me, they may come after you.” He lowered Thomas to the ground, helping him to stand.

“Nuh-uh! I’m not scared!” Thomas crossed his arms, sticking his nose up in the air.

“And why is that?” Lucifer asked, genuinely curious. Most humans would have run for the hills by now and soaked themselves in holy water. Was it because he didn’t understand? Was he too young to understand?

“It’s because you’re my friend.” Thomas exclaimed, matter-of-factly.

He reached out mentally, trying to assess the meaning of his words, Lucifer could feel the emotions surge through him, trust, friendship, understanding. “Huh.” He was at a loss for words, he hadn’t had ‘trust’ placed in him from a human before. Lucifer snapped his fingers, releasing the barrier and colour returned back to the world. He could hear birds chirping and feel the warmth of the sunshine on his face.

“Let’s go play!” Thomas reached out his hand, offering it to Lucifer.

Lucifer stared at it for a moment, before grasping it tightly. This boy didn’t run. Didn’t cry. And despite seeing him kill all those demons in his true form, placed his trust in him.

“Sure.” Lucifer smiled and tightened his grip

Continue to Chapter 4

#luciferandthomas #satanandthomas #writing #fiction #luciferfiction #adventures with lucifer and a boy #lucifer and thomas #lucifer

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unto-myself-together · 7 years

Text

Of Stories and Songs: A Haunted Mansion Fanfic (Overture)

Here is the alternate (and true) prologue that I was working on. It’s much, much longer than the prologue I had up before (which was actually not a prologue so much as a teaser?).

I have edited this. This is a better version now.

BEFORE YOU READ: This is a story based off of Disney’s ‘Story and Song of the Haunted Mansion’. The following trigger warnings are for this entire fic. If you are affected by the triggers listed right under the read more, you might want to skip this whole story (as there will be plot points tied to these things).

It also occurred to me that I can’t edit things before a read more and have it show up on people’s reblog of this post. :/ Which means I’m going to just put the trigger warnings underneath the read more, just in case I forgot something and need to add it. That way, everyone who reblogs will always get the most up to date version of the trigger warnings (which is the safest way).

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

(The audio file is mine. I made it. You have to open the link to listen, as it will link to another tumblr post.)

~~~~~~~~~

Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7

Prologue (Overture)

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.” --Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a silver flask.

Probably not the first thing that would be in the forefront of your mind. And already, I’m sure, you must be asking:

Is it magic?

To which I will say: No. It was nothing more than a flask used to hold drink. Often the strong kind.

And then you might ask:

Is it beautiful?

To which I must say: Why, certainly not. It was small, barely holding 3 ounces, and had no decorations whatsoever. No set initials, no carvings or gems set into it, nor even a bit of polish to hide the jutting pewter layers that betrayed the idea that it was of pure silver.

And by now, you must be thinking:

Is it important?

Perhaps to some.

But to you?

To this tale?

I would hardly think you would notice it missing beyond this chapter.

And you must surely be furious now. ‘Why ever would I want to read about boring flasks that are neither magic, nor beautiful, nor important?’

Ah…but you see, my friend. All of us have such knickknacks in our lives.

Our little baubles.

Our collections.

And while these things, by themselves, may not necessarily spark the events that shape us as people, they do often bear witness to them.

Mementos of our first steps.

Our first job.

Our first kiss.

Weddings, anniversaries, funerals, murders…

Who we are…who we aspire to be…our dreams, our goals, our past and the promise of our future…

We cling to these items because they represent these times. A physical reminder we can touch...evoking the feelings we have for those we care about…an embodiment of our memories.

Who would we be in life, without our memories?

…Who would we be in death, without some token to leave behind?

After all, what are gravestones, if not markers for the living to remember the dead?

Yes…this particular item was well worn and used, and much beloved by its owner; a man that clung it to himself as any thief might cling a nugget of gold.

He was a plain looking man with a plain look about him. A goatee, a mustache, brown hair, brown eyes. Plain clothes and a plain hat. In the light of day, he might have looked like anyone else, perhaps even an upstanding citizen, albeit one that never won popularity contests. But in the dreary dead of night at the cemetery of an abandoned mansion, with his back hunched over and his eyes always shifting to look behind him? Even the most righteous of people would look suspicious.

A quick drink from the silver flask for courage, and the man creaked open the cemetery gate, lugging behind him a burlap sack and, inexplicably, the large case to a concert contrabass.

Once he chose a friendly spot among the gravestones, he took out a shovel from the sack.

For the longest time, he dug in silence. The only noises he made were the sound of shifting earth, accented by the occasional pause by which he took another swing from the flask. He spoke no sound, but it was just as well, as there was no one in sight for which to speak to.

No one…in his sights….

One foot…

Two foot…

Three foot…

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the mansion, a grandfather clock struck midnight, and the echoes of its chime, remarkably, could be heard all the way through the cemetery. The man paused in his labors to listen; it caught his attention not just because it was strange for there to be a working clock in an old mansion, but because of the song it played. It sounded vaguely the same of the Big Ben chime, the usual song any respectable grandfather clock would use, but it was warped and distorted as though the clock had grown tired of telling time:

Listen to the clock audio file

Little did he know, for he was nowhere near the clock to see it, that this grandfather clock was…special. It had eyes. It had teeth. It had a tail, it’s pendulum, swinging gently with each second. And its bony fingers graced a face that held thirteen at its height. An impossible thirteen hours. As the chimes finished counting out their marks, the fingers began to move….backwards.

They started slow, but, with every passing of the thirteenth mark, they grew faster.

And faster.

And all around the halls where the clock stood proudly, the walls seem to vibrate in delight. Doors seemed to open on their own; the very air seemed to trill with excitement.

But of course, the man could not have known of any of this, as he was firmly in the graveyard, busy once again with digging.

Four feet…

Five feet…

Six feet…

A crow grabbed at his hat, right as he stood to drink again. He made a valiant effort to grab his precious flask, but it was no use. The flask fell to the ground, the little bit left emptied.

The crow perched at the edge of the hole, puffed up with pride and eyeing the man gleefully.

“Stupid crow,” He muttered, hopelessly shaking the flask to his ear for any signs of leftovers.

“Stupid man,” The crow croaked back at him.

The man glared at it. “I won’t look so stupid to you when I get back up there.”

“Caw caw-You will, you will. When they catch you, little fool. Caw caw.”

He’d heard of crows mimicking words, but holding actual conversations?

“Oh, but if I catch you, my feathered friend.” He began the tumultuous climb up the sides of his nicely dug hole. “I feel as though I should light you on fire. Do you know I could roast you so thoroughly, no one will ever know what you once-“

A green dress.

“…were….”

There was a green dress in front of him right as he hoisted himself up the edge. As his gaze drew upwards, there was a matching green striped apron. And upwards again, there was a face.

“Good evening,” The girl said, quite pleasantly.

He swallowed thickly. “Good evening.”

She seemed a child, but perhaps too old for his sense of ease. Teenagers that just turned adult were the worst brats, but at least she didn’t look threatening. Curious, perhaps, in the way she stared at him, head cocked to the side. Strange, perhaps, in her clothes and how the rain never quite fell on her. But most certainly not threatening. Dark brown hair that was cut neatly just as they reached halfway down her neck. In contrast, her bangs were messy and clumped in three, long, uneven strands, but at the very least they did not reach far enough to impede the view from her startling, brilliant blue eyes.

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I could say the same, girl. This isn’t a place for children to play games. Run along home.”

“I am home. And I’m not playing games….Yet.”

He hoisted himself the rest of the way up and stared at her harshly. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to lie?”

“On the contrary, they taught me how to.”

“Ha! Tell me, where in the hell are your parents that they let you run around in the middle of the night, dressed like that, at an abandoned house.”

“They’re dead,” She said, matter-of-factly. “And I’d rather not consider them to be in hell, thank you very much.”

“Oh.” He made himself busy with the latch on the case. “My condolences. I don’t envy them that.”

“You won’t have to. Would you care for a drink?”

The offer was sudden, but it was enough to perk the man’s attention. His hand hesitated on his contrabass case, before he made the slow, tentative effort to open it. Inside the case was another burlap sack, wrapped loosely around something (or somethings) so that they were undiscernible. He gave the object a poke in several places, as if assuring himself that it was still there, before clamping the case shut quickly.

“…What sort of drink?”

“Name your poison.” She said, smiling in a disconcerting, daydream-like way.

The man reached to feel for his silver flask, empty but safely tucked in his inner coat pocket.

“…I’ve always been partial to gin. But I don’t suppose a little girl like you carries around alcohol, especially visiting a place like this.”

“Au contraire, good sir. We happen to have a few good bottles, unopened, from 1883. I wonder, sir, if that might hold your interest…?”

“Ha. You’ve got to be joking. You’ve got a bottle that’s made its way all from the eighteenth century?”

“Nineteenth.” She corrected, “And yes, we do.”

“Whatever century, that’s got to be nearly a hundred years old. That’s quite a find.”

“If you say so.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Once you get older, I think you’ll better appreciate the quality of an aged drink.”

“Of course, sir. I do hope you’ll allow me to lead you inside, so that we may provide to you the very best gin we have.”

There was an odd twitch in her smile, which made him suspicious that she was keeping something from him. His gaze was drawn back to the case.

“I assure you, your…case will be left undisturbed.”

The call of the drink was stronger than his desire to keep the case secured… There seemed no one here except the two of them. Surely no one would touch it, the man thought. ...and yet….

“It’s coming with me.”

He put the effort into hoisting the contrabass case onto his back once more.

She made an elaborate display in opening the door to the house and bowing to him to enter, which he did after shifting the case around.

“Follow me, please.”

She took a nearby lit candelabra, an ornate thing that had carved monsters and five candlesticks. As he followed behind, he considered the girl once again. Something was strange about how she moved, how she dressed, how she seemed perfectly at ease in an eerily empty house that she was likely squatting in. But she didn’t seem to have any weapons on her person, despite the air of confidence she emanated; not a hint of an anxiety in the way she carelessly walked in front of him, not once looking behind to see if he would stab her in the back. Perhaps that was what discomforted him.

This child had no fear of strangers, and the man could not for the life of him tell whether he should be wary of this fact.

“Is it far?” He asked, not at all liking the idea of having to trek through a whole mansion and then finish his digging.

“The parlor isn’t, no. At least, not at this time. You aren’t afraid of the dark, are you?”

“’Course not. Only children are….are afraid of…”

The strangeness in the air had magnified gradually as they walked. The eyes on the portraits seemed to follow his every move, but only out of the corner of his eye did he ever notice.

“…I’m not afraid of the dark.” He said, resolutely. He whipped his head at the latest portrait, intending to catch it in the act of spying, but froze as he stared at it.

Because his own face was staring back at him.

It was the very painted image of himself, and his hat, in front of a building that was…

......

“Where did you get this from, girl?” He hissed at her.

“Get what?” She said, in that infuriating innocent tone of hers.

He turned angrily at her, nostrils flaring.

“This! This portrait of me! How do you know about this…this?! What happened back then-Where did you get this from?!”

“A portrait of you? Here?” She came to take a look.

But when he went to present it to her, his face and the building were gone. Instead, the visage of a man, quite impossibly tall and with a gnarled face, stood in the frame. Each of his eyes was unique, and each of his hands held something unique as well; in one was the end of his long noose, and in the other was a sinister looking axe.

“…Is this you?” She said, incredulous, “It doesn’t look much like you. If it is you, you certainly did a good job cleaning yourself up, as the man in this portrait looks rather downright ugl-ouch.”

His mouth was still agape when he turned to witness her sucking her finger.

“I guess I deserved that.” She said, smiling at him with her finger between her teeth. His alarm and confusion was still a little hard to gulp away.

“Candlewax,” She said. “Shall we continue then?”

“But the portrait…” He eyes darted back to it, daring it to change again, utterly at a loss as to what to do about it.

“Could it be that you’ve had too much to drink already? That you’re seeing things that don’t exist? Perhaps I should withhold the gin from you…”

The man hesitated, and tried to consider the logic.

The incident he thought he saw in the portrait happened ages ago. He had a solid alibi, the police never once considered him a suspect, and half the community didn’t even remember him when he passed through years later.

Nobody looked for him, nobody knew it was him; why on earth would a girl in the middle of nowhere half the country away know anything about it?

Perhaps the stress took its toll…

And then there was still the one-hundred year old gin.

“Let’s continue,” he said, motioning for her to continue on. “I must…I must just be imagining things. It’s been a long night.”

And surely, the man thought to himself, he could still kill her if she blackmailed him.

“I’m sure. Right in through here.”

The parlor was a small room, as many old parlors were, but it was far too cold for comfort. Between the couch on the one wall and the three cushioned seats surrounding the fireplace, it was perhaps only designed to comfortably satisfy, at most, ten people. The far opposite wall of the couch had a three tier, long bookcase and a service table replete with glasses and decanters. The mantelpiece was decorated with a long mirror above it, and cherubs that no longer looked angelic carved into the wood. His throat grew tight simply looking at it.

“I do apologize for the lack of light,” The girl said, placing her candelabra up on the mantelpiece. There was still something so very odd about the way she moved. “We don’t have much firewood at the moment. If you’ll sit down, I’ll pour you a drink mister…?”

He waved her off. “It doesn’t matter. Call me whatever you’d like, girl.”

“A pleasure to meet you too then,” She smirked, “And you may call me ‘Nell’. I’d prefer it to girl.”

He huffed, unloaded the burden of the contrabass case, and took his relief in the cushions of one of the fireplace facing seats. They were still soft, despite looking like antiques that ought to be in a museum.

“Do you mind someone to drink with?”

“You’re too young, Nell.” He said, flatly, rubbing his arms to get some warmth.

“Oh no, not me. It’s just that the Master was wanting to see you, and he’s certainly not one to pass up a good drink.”

The man couldn’t tell if she was serious or not and eyed her funny.

“’Master’…? Who is this ‘Master’?”

“Someone who doesn’t like gin.”

He laughed. A short laugh that gave off his unease, as the tightness in his throat was still there.

“Sure. Sure, if he isn’t drinking any of my gin, by all means.”

“Well then, your drink, sir.”

She handed him an unopened bottle of ‘Collison’s Gin’, dated 1883 in its feeble looking, plain tag.

“Heh. The best service is a fast service.”

“I do try.”

Between his chair and the empty one to the left of it, she placed a slew of items on the end table. First was a unique looking glass that had a bulge straight in its middle. In it, she poured to the top end of the bulge a liquid that was of a sickly green. Next, she placed a strange looking slotted spoon over the lip of the glass, and a white cube (sugar?) on top of it. Finally, she added a clear liquid, steadily pouring over the cube so that it dissolved and the rest of the glass was filled. Almost instantly, the green clouded into a murky white.

She noticed him staring. “It’s the Master’s favored drink, and it needs to be prepared very specifically.”

The man swallowed, the tightness beginning to irritate him. There was something so very ‘off’ about the girl, even up close, and he had yet to put his finger on just what it was.

“Tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you, ‘an abandoned house’?”

The man took a long swing of his newly gotten goods, contemplating on just what to tell her.

“You know the old mine to the east of here?”

“Sightseeing at Big Thunder Mountain? I’m sure a lot of the buildings of the town of Rainbow Ridge still stand, though I can’t imagine there would be much to see.”

He paused. “Last I heard, the town was called Tumbleweed…”

“It’s been called many things over time. Haunted would be another.”

“I don’t much believe in silly superstitions. The miners back then were just out of their depth in trying to rake a twisted forming mountain.”

The girl laughed, her shadow dancing in the light of the candles in an unnatural way.

“Perhaps you should start believing in superstitions. You never know, sir, just what sort of place you’ll end up at. Better late than never...But, may I ask, does this mean you wish to try and re-open the mine?”

“There’s gold to be had. Plenty of it. If others want to avoid claiming it, that’s all well and good. More for me.”

“Is it gold that you have in that case of yours that you were burying?”

He hesitated. He had hoped she wouldn’t have brought up the subject of his case; that she had just forgotten about it, despite its presence in the room.

As he took a slow and steady drink, letting the alcohol linger and burn, he looked towards the ‘Master’s’ glass.

…It was empty…

He nearly choked on his sip.

“That…the glass. That ‘Master’s’ glass…”

Nell turned to it. “Oh. Dear me. I must have forgotten to pour the Master’s drink. How silly of me.”

He watched, the goosebumps creeping, as she painstakingly repeated her earlier actions.

Pour the green liquid up to the top of the bulge.

Balance the slotted spoon on its lip.

Put the cube on the spoon.

Pour the clear liquid over the cube.

With each action, his throat tightened more, and he fiddled with his collar to relief the pressure.

“Now, where were we?” She said, returning to him. “Oh yes. Tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you, ‘an abandoned house’”

The hair on the back of his neck stiffened and prickled. Hadn't she just asked this question?

“You…you know…the old mine…to the east…”

“Sightseeing at Big Thunder Mountain? I’m sure a lot of the buildings of the town of Rainbow Ridge still stand, though I can’t imagine there would be much to see.”

“T-tumbleweed…” He sputtered out, correcting her.

“It’s been called many things over time. Haunted would be another.”

“Don’t believe…No superstition is going to stop me…Not the earthquakes or the flash floods they say about it…”

“Or the runaway ghost trains?”

He fiddled nervously with his collar again.

The tightness in his throat irritated him again…and then he heard it.

Slow and mournful, a musical voice. A human voice. She was singing, singing so beautifully and slowly and mournfully that it sounded like the lament for a loved one long since dead. The hallways carried her chime-like, enchanting voice very well, although the echoes made her sound like an unearthly creature.

“What is that?” He whispered to the girl, mesmerized.

It was the most alluring sound he had ever heard in his life.

“What is what?”

“The singing…someone is singing…Who else is here?”

“No body is here. Except, of course, the ones we ourselves dragged here.”

“The singing…Beautiful singing…I-“

He froze, as if remembering something, and twisted his head around back to the ‘Master’s’ glass.

His stomach dropped, the singing stopped, and the goosebumps multiplied down his back.

The glass was empty again.

“The…the glass…” He managed to sputter.

“Oh. Dear, dear me. I must have forgotten to pour the Master’s drink. How silly of me.”

Bulge. Green liquid. Spoon. Cube. Clear liquid.

“So tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you-”

“Just what are you playing at here?” The man spat, trying to work himself towards a rage.

“Playing?” Nell asked, her clearly faux look of innocence infuriating him more.

“What do you take me for, hm? You’ve filled that glass three times, asked that same question three times.”

“Have I really filled the Master’s glass three times already?” She asked, and her faux innocent smile twitched to a smirk. “And to think, after all these years, the Master still has a drinking problem.”

The room began to shake, bristling and threatening to topple over the candelabra. The man held onto his seat, a gnawing worry in the back of his mind that maybe the stories about Big Thunder and earthquakes were true. But the rumbling stopped almost as soon as it began.

“Now you see?” The girl said. “A true gentleman can easily show his discontent by giving the room a little shake…not pouring hot wax on me. You should take notes and follow the example.”

“What are you talking about?” The man was on the very end of his seat, nerves galore, as the girl hadn’t even been looking at him.

When she did, a layer of surprise clouded her face, as though she had briefly forgotten he was even there or perhaps didn’t think he would comment.

“Oh. My apologies if you thought I was talking to you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. In mere seconds, the man had the girl up against the side of the mantelpiece, the blade of his three inch folding knife against the pretty little girl’s pretty little throat.

“Now you listen here, girl,” He hissed, “I’ve played house with you long enough. You better start wagging that tongue of yours and tell me what in the Hell’s going on around here or else I-“

HE WAS BACK IN HIS CHAIR.

It had happened so fast, it was almost a blur. At one moment, he had the girl’s life in his very hands while she stared, unconcerned and without a trace of fear, back at him. The very next moment, he was being driven back by a powerful and invisible force; powerful enough to send him sailing through the air and crashing firmly back into the chair.

He sat there shaking, trying to get up again. But an unseen heavy weight kept him anchored against the cushions, his knife somehow lodged into one of the creepy cherubs out of his reach.

“My, my, my,” Nell sighed. She looked unconcerned by men flying through the air, just as unconcerned as she had been when he had held his knife against her throat. “And here I thought we could all be civil about this. But I suppose that was too much to ask from someone like you.”

“Someone…someone like me-?” He croaked out as the tightness in his throat got phenomenally tighter.

It suddenly occurred to the man that tightness wasn’t the result of nerves.

She took hold of the candelabra once more.

“You aren’t here for gold…”

She stepped closer to him.

“You don’t care for riches…”

With every inch made towards the man, the man felt his neck tighten even more.

“And you don’t give two wits about Big Thunder…”

She stood directly in front of him as he struggled for breath.

It was like a rope…

A rope that had been pulled tighter and tighter around his neck this entire time, and he only just started to pay it heed.

But as he struggled and gasped and scratched at his throat, there was nothing there.

There was never anything there.

“L-l-ll-little b-b-bi-” he heaved.

“Insulting the woman you just tried to kill? It won’t do you much good from where you’re sitting, but by all means, keep digging your own grave. You’ve already dug a physical one for us. That was so very kind of you, by the way. Did I ever thank you?”

The man could no longer speak. He was forced to glare at her instead.

“No, someone like you isn’t much interested in mines. And I can especially understand why you might be uncomfortable with ‘silly superstitions’. I mean, given what you’ve been up to these past few months.”

The man’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, good sir. I know someone who knows things. So much so, that I happen to know what’s really in that case. …And it most certainly isn’t gold from Big Thunder Mountain.”

He tried to resist the invisible restraints, wanting more than ever to run.

“No. What’s in your music case is far worse than gold, isn’t it? And you’ve been worried that people were going to come looking for you because of what you did. You would kill to keep that from happening. ….And you have killed, many times. Yet in your attempt to get away, you’ve made one very fatal mistake…”

She loomed over him, the light source in one hand. And in that terrible, terrible moment, he finally realized what was strange about the girl.

Her shadow was too tall.

Her shadow was too impossibly tall and thin. And, though the girl was holding a candelabra, her shadow was not.

It was holding something much different. Longer and thinner, with a bladed edge.

His terrified eyes flicked back to the girl. Something about her demeanor, the smile that grew on her face, suggested that she knew what he was thinking. That she knew what he’d just noticed.

“For someone who doesn’t believe in ‘silly superstitions’, you seem to have great faith in the silliest of all,” She said, her smile wide as she held a finger to her lips,

“Did you honestly believe the dead tell no tales?”

The candles in her hand went out, plunging everything into darkness.

The sensation in his neck grew tauter, and he reached out, grasping, yearning for anything that might bring relief.

Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope-

Chanting. The chanting in the room grew mind numbing. Something heavy was in his hand.

He could feel his fingers growing colder. The world becoming fuzzier.

He knew what he had to do.

Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope

With the last of his strength…as he still struggled for breath…he swung the heavy object in one fell swoop towards his neck.

But there was no rope. There was nothing there.

There was nothing there.

There was nothing there but flesh and blood and the remnants of the man’s final screams.

#of stories and songs #my fanfiction #haunted mansion fanfiction #haunted mansion fanfic #the haunted mansion fanfiction

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aira26soonas · 7 years

Text

5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer

Blog Post and Audio Blog Post for episode 90 of the 10-Minute Teacher Podcast

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

And a lot of you this summer are going to be working on your personal brand. Now, whether you think you have a brand or not, you do. And I know it’s kind of frustrating because some people just don’t want to have a brand. And if that’s you, that’s okay. But at some point, you’re going to want to change careers, or somebody is going to look at your body of work. And I think that we all need a professional body of work online. So there are five different things I’d like to encourage you as you think about your personal brand.

1 – Tell a Story that is Uniquely Yours

First of all, this year, when I was working with our valedictorian and salutatorian on their speeches for graduation, I asked each of them, and I said,

“What is the story that you can uniquely tell?”

Now, our salutatorian is such a great young man, and he actually stood up and said,

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Because when he was in first grade, his parents had tried to move him to another school, and he had chosen to stand up for half a day. Talk about conscientious objector, a little-bitty first-grader, said it wasn’t his school, it wasn’t his desk; he wasn’t going to sit down. Perfectly respectful to all the adults. But eventually, his mom got in, brought him back to my school where he was. And so his whole speech was about standing for something, and that his whole life changed that day where he stood up for what he believed in. Then, he proceeded to tell about how every single person in the class stood for something.

And I’ve had people send me lovely, “helpful” emails and say,

“You know what; you sound like Holly Hunter. You need to get rid of your accent.”

Well, you know what; my accent is me. And I’d have to fight like the third monkey on Noah’s gangplank to get rid of it! And, yes, that’s a Southern colloquialism.

And I’m from “down South” here in America, and I’m going to own it. That’s me. It’s who I am. Some people will like it; some people won’t.

But you know what? I don’t like people who are fakes. I don’t like people who change to try to fit in with everybody else because I love unique individuals. So that’s who I’m going to be.

TIP #1: I have found that the people who do best with their personal brand just own who they are and they’re okay with it.

Listen Now to the Audio Version of this Blog Post (or scroll down to continue reading)

Listen on iTunes

Stream by clicking here.

The transcript will be uploaded and posted right here as soon as soon as it is available.

Click the button for iTunes or Stitcher to subscribe to this show

2 – Make Bigger Hills — Don’t Play King of the Hill

I think the second thing is, as you think about your career and your personal brand, be careful about getting too hung up on lists. Sometimes I’ll end up on one list of great bloggers, and then I’ll be left off another one. And used to; I would just let it roll me up like a rollercoaster. I’d be up down, up down, up down.

But something happened the day I hit 12,000 Twitter followers. Now, I’m much past that now, but for some reason, I thought 12,000 was just like “the number.” And I don’t know why, but I did. And climbed and worked, and worked, and climbed, and worked, and climbed, and I finally hit 12,000.

And you know what; I didn’t feel any different than I did when I had two Twitter followers. There was no more validation, no more. I still had the same insecurities. I’m still just me. I’m still just Vicki Davis.

And I didn’t feel any different. And now I have 143,000 followers, and I still don’t feel any different, except sometimes I just feel really overwhelmed because I wonder like, “what on earth is this?” And I know certainly 143,000 people aren’t looking at all of my tweets.

But the strategy that I’ve adopted is to not play king of the hill. My strategy is to make a bigger hill. When I suddenly realized that a lot of people were reading my blog, and now a lot of people listening to my podcast, my second podcast as well as the first, I realized, you know what; there’s a lot of amazing educators out there that people haven’t found yet.

And one of my favorite podcasts of this whole season has been the podcast with special needs teacher Karen McCallum because she doesn’t have a Twitter; she doesn’t have a Blog. And it’s one of the most popular shows of the whole season because she was using puppets to help kids with special needs in first grade, and it was just so awesome. It was so endearing. And to me, that gives me meaning, when I make a bigger hill when I find these teachers that people have never heard of yet because there’s more than enough room. Oh, my goodness.

And when I see people who present – and I’ll have to admit; there was a time period where I was taking in by it. That is the thing about the blogosphere; it’s a lot of great things, but the negative thing is it’s a whole lot of flattery.

So if somebody ever tells you you’re a rock star, don’t believe them unless you’re wearing leather pants and you can sing like Def Leppard or something.

But I don’t wear leather pants, and that’s not me. So just make a bigger hill.

Tip #2: There’s a lot of ways we can make a bigger hill and share everybody else in what they’re doing. And don’t get caught up in too many lists and that sort of thing. So, find ways to make a bigger hill and shine the spotlight on others.

3 – Own Your Mistakes

I think the other thing that I realized, the third thing is that we all make mistakes; and when you make them, own it.

One of the earliest mistakes I remember is there was a parody website, P-A-R-O-D-Y, and it was called Microsoft Firefox, and it was making fun of Firefox, and it was just really making fun of Microsoft and everything. And I didn’t know what a parody website was, so I blogged about it and thought it was just so horrible. And then somebody told me, Vicki, that’s a parody, and I realize that I have royally screwed up.

Well, I thought about deleting the blog post, but then I realized I needed to go into the strike-throughs and use it as a teachable moment to explain to others what is a parody website, and then also just be transparent about it because people have to believe what I write. So if I mess up and do a face plant, I have just to own it.

So there have been times I have posted fake news, and I don’t usually delete it. I usually go in there, and I edit it, and I say, I messed up; here is how I could have done better to do it right the first time. There’s a whole lot of humility, I guess, that comes from that. But when I see people who are perfect, I know they’re lying because nobody is perfect. And that’s just the truth.

Be ok with your imperfections. Learn from them. Be “transparent” by turning mistakes into teachable moments. You might find that your honesty is refreshing in a world of people who pretend to be perfect.

4. Pick Your Habits Because Your Habits Make You

I think the other thing, the fourth thing, is to really look at your habits because your habits make you who you are.

I am super strategic about my habits. I mean, how else can Kip and I produce a five-day a week show like we do without having strategic habits?

I have a list of what I call “idea buckets.” These are the things that I want to cover, or include. So I’ll tell Lisa Durff who does all the research for the show; I’ll say,

“okay, we haven’t had enough in science,” or

“I’m fascinated about peer review”, or

“I think that we haven’t had enough on this particular topic that’s coming out in the research,”

and we really try to be the voice that we feel like needs to be out there, based on the research and what we’re reading. We’re trying to bring the classroom together with all the research.

So I have a list of idea buckets, and then I sit down, and I schedule it. Because here is the thing; I can’t be a hypocrite. When I am in my classroom, I am in my classroom. So all those tweets and Facebook posts and everything that you see posted during the day, those are coming from my Buffer account, and I pay for Buffer every month, and I schedule it.

And that’s just the right way to do that so that I can be focused on my students and not be a hypocrite, but still, have habits that will put great information out there. Because when I got serious about this and realized, you know what; I can do this, I can help pay for my kids for college, it can be a habit, it can help me get awesome, great things for my classroom, but I don’t have a lot of time.

I mean, I’m a mom of three, a wife of one, I have all these students, and just very, very busy person. So I just have to be real strategic about the habits. And so think about yours too.

Tip #4: Be strategic about your habits and tools so that your social media use reflects who you are as a person.

5. Slow, Steady Innovation Works

And I think the last thing is that we all have to change and grow. If you’ve been listening to me very long, you know that I believe in innovating like a turtle. And that means I always have my list of my next three things I’m going to learn. I like to take slow, steady steps forward. I set two to three times a week to learn new things for about 15 minutes each time. But then also, for a turtle to walk, the turtle has to stick its neck out.

And so sometimes I have to stick my neck out, and I get afraid. I get scared when I’m trying new things. I mean, when we created MAD about Mattering, I was scared to death. All the global projects I’ve worked with are scary. But when you change, and you grow, you are putting yourself out there; you are the kind of person that people may notice. And you may do things well sometimes and other times you may not.

Tip #5: Keep a short list of three things that you want to investigate. Take 15 minutes two or three times a week to learn new things. Work to improve slowly but steadily. Make improvement part of your weekly habits.

In Conclusion

But I think part of having a brand or being a person, really, that people can trust is that you’re a real person.

And I just want to encourage you to be your authentic you. There are other people out here who are going to be bloggers or podcasters, and everybody will know your name in five years if that’s important to you.

I don’t even fantasize or think that everybody knows my name or ever will know my name. It’s just not realistic. But question I ask myself about people who listen to or ready my stuff, whether they remember my name or not include:

Are listeners and readers becoming better teachers?

Are they helping kids in the classroom?

Is some other part of the world becoming brighter because of something I’ve shined through my work?

And that’s meaning for me.

So now the question, I guess, for you is what’s the meaning for you?

The post 5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/5-ideas-build-personal-brand-summer/

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athena29stone · 7 years

Text

5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer

Blog Post and Audio Blog Post for episode 90 of the 10-Minute Teacher Podcast

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

1 – Tell a Story that is Uniquely Yours

First of all, this year, when I was working with our valedictorian and salutatorian on their speeches for graduation, I asked each of them, and I said,

“What is the story that you can uniquely tell?”

Now, our salutatorian is such a great young man, and he actually stood up and said,

“I shouldn’t be here.”

And I’ve had people send me lovely, “helpful” emails and say,

“You know what; you sound like Holly Hunter. You need to get rid of your accent.”

Well, you know what; my accent is me. And I’d have to fight like the third monkey on Noah’s gangplank to get rid of it! And, yes, that’s a Southern colloquialism.

And I’m from “down South” here in America, and I’m going to own it. That’s me. It’s who I am. Some people will like it; some people won’t.

But you know what? I don’t like people who are fakes. I don’t like people who change to try to fit in with everybody else because I love unique individuals. So that’s who I’m going to be.

TIP #1: I have found that the people who do best with their personal brand just own who they are and they’re okay with it.

Listen Now to the Audio Version of this Blog Post (or scroll down to continue reading)

Listen on iTunes

Stream by clicking here.

The transcript will be uploaded and posted right here as soon as soon as it is available.

Click the button for iTunes or Stitcher to subscribe to this show

2 – Make Bigger Hills — Don’t Play King of the Hill

So if somebody ever tells you you’re a rock star, don’t believe them unless you’re wearing leather pants and you can sing like Def Leppard or something.

But I don’t wear leather pants, and that’s not me. So just make a bigger hill.

3 – Own Your Mistakes

I think the other thing that I realized, the third thing is that we all make mistakes; and when you make them, own it.

4. Pick Your Habits Because Your Habits Make You

I think the other thing, the fourth thing, is to really look at your habits because your habits make you who you are.

I am super strategic about my habits. I mean, how else can Kip and I produce a five-day a week show like we do without having strategic habits?

I have a list of what I call “idea buckets.” These are the things that I want to cover, or include. So I’ll tell Lisa Durff who does all the research for the show; I’ll say,

“okay, we haven’t had enough in science,” or

“I’m fascinated about peer review”, or

“I think that we haven’t had enough on this particular topic that’s coming out in the research,”

and we really try to be the voice that we feel like needs to be out there, based on the research and what we’re reading. We’re trying to bring the classroom together with all the research.

I mean, I’m a mom of three, a wife of one, I have all these students, and just very, very busy person. So I just have to be real strategic about the habits. And so think about yours too.

Tip #4: Be strategic about your habits and tools so that your social media use reflects who you are as a person.

5. Slow, Steady Innovation Works

In Conclusion

But I think part of having a brand or being a person, really, that people can trust is that you’re a real person.

Are listeners and readers becoming better teachers?

Are they helping kids in the classroom?

Is some other part of the world becoming brighter because of something I’ve shined through my work?

And that’s meaning for me.

So now the question, I guess, for you is what’s the meaning for you?

The post 5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/5-ideas-build-personal-brand-summer/

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patriciaanderson357-blog · 7 years

Text

5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer

Blog Post and Audio Blog Post for episode 90 of the 10-Minute Teacher Podcast

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

1 – Tell a Story that is Uniquely Yours

First of all, this year, when I was working with our valedictorian and salutatorian on their speeches for graduation, I asked each of them, and I said,

“What is the story that you can uniquely tell?”

Now, our salutatorian is such a great young man, and he actually stood up and said,

“I shouldn’t be here.”

And I’ve had people send me lovely, “helpful” emails and say,

“You know what; you sound like Holly Hunter. You need to get rid of your accent.”

Well, you know what; my accent is me. And I’d have to fight like the third monkey on Noah’s gangplank to get rid of it! And, yes, that’s a Southern colloquialism.

And I’m from “down South” here in America, and I’m going to own it. That’s me. It’s who I am. Some people will like it; some people won’t.

But you know what? I don’t like people who are fakes. I don’t like people who change to try to fit in with everybody else because I love unique individuals. So that’s who I’m going to be.

TIP #1: I have found that the people who do best with their personal brand just own who they are and they’re okay with it.

Listen Now to the Audio Version of this Blog Post (or scroll down to continue reading)

Listen on iTunes

Stream by clicking here.

The transcript will be uploaded and posted right here as soon as soon as it is available.

Click the button for iTunes or Stitcher to subscribe to this show

2 – Make Bigger Hills — Don’t Play King of the Hill

So if somebody ever tells you you’re a rock star, don’t believe them unless you’re wearing leather pants and you can sing like Def Leppard or something.

But I don’t wear leather pants, and that’s not me. So just make a bigger hill.

3 – Own Your Mistakes

I think the other thing that I realized, the third thing is that we all make mistakes; and when you make them, own it.

4. Pick Your Habits Because Your Habits Make You

I think the other thing, the fourth thing, is to really look at your habits because your habits make you who you are.

I am super strategic about my habits. I mean, how else can Kip and I produce a five-day a week show like we do without having strategic habits?

I have a list of what I call “idea buckets.” These are the things that I want to cover, or include. So I’ll tell Lisa Durff who does all the research for the show; I’ll say,

“okay, we haven’t had enough in science,” or

“I’m fascinated about peer review”, or

“I think that we haven’t had enough on this particular topic that’s coming out in the research,”

and we really try to be the voice that we feel like needs to be out there, based on the research and what we’re reading. We’re trying to bring the classroom together with all the research.

I mean, I’m a mom of three, a wife of one, I have all these students, and just very, very busy person. So I just have to be real strategic about the habits. And so think about yours too.

Tip #4: Be strategic about your habits and tools so that your social media use reflects who you are as a person.

5. Slow, Steady Innovation Works

In Conclusion

But I think part of having a brand or being a person, really, that people can trust is that you’re a real person.

Are listeners and readers becoming better teachers?

Are they helping kids in the classroom?

Is some other part of the world becoming brighter because of something I’ve shined through my work?

And that’s meaning for me.

So now the question, I guess, for you is what’s the meaning for you?

The post 5 Ideas to Build Your Personal Brand This Summer appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

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