#Wednesday is the personification of Go big or go home

[usiel21]

Protective Wednesday Part II <3

(Wednesday and Enid are walking downtown in San Francisco, Enid's arm shoots out to stop them in their tracks)

Enid: (With wide eyes) Oh God

Wednesday: Why have we stopped? (Wednesday's eyes follows to where Enid's is looking too)

Enid: It''s Nathan

Wednesday: Nathan?

Enid (Closes her eyes) He used to bully me in normie school, they would steal my things, pour paint on me, they used to call me "Cry Wolf" because of... (She stops, tears already brewing)

(She takes a deep breath and reopens her eyes) It's okay we can... Wednesday ?

(Wednesday is no longer beside Enid, her eyes dart around until she finds the goth... with a short sword pressed to Nathan's throat)

Enid (Eyes brewing with pure, infatuated adoration and then sudden realisation) No! Wednesday!

Wednesday: (With a gleeful sneer) Go on, cry wolf, i fucking dare you. (Pressing the tip of the blade deeper into Nathan's throat, she leans in towards his ear as Enid is now within several steps of them) The ONLY reason you aren't choking on your own blood is because she is here, she is pure and good and precious, everything that i am not, and i won't defile that with your death, consider this mercy.

Nathan: (Terrified, nods vigorously, before scrambling away with only a nick to his throat)

Wednesday; My apologies, amore mia, he isn't the first boy i have attempted to murder to defend what i consider mine.

Enid: (Fully Swooning) I can't believe you just nearly... for me (Gulps Nervously) Wait the first?!

Wednesday: (Turns around sharply and walks away) Come, Mia Lupa

Enid: (Running to catch up) WEDNESDAY! THE FIRST?!

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

Only two days late, my Sara Pena and Hunter Richardson Halloween fic.

Happy Halloween, Sphere!

All Hallow's Eve

“Hey,” Sara said, doing her makeup for a clown-inspired Halloween look, “what do you want to do for Halloween?”

“I figured you were going to a party,” Hunter said.

“Oh, I'm booked Thursday through Sunday but no one's throwing a party the day of because no one wants to wake up hungover on a Wednesday.”

“That's fair.”

“So, we can celebrate Halloween together. However you want.”

“I do have a Halloween tradition, but you're going to think it's boring.”

“What? No I won't!”

“I go to the cemetery and I keep watch until around midnight, to make sure no punks defile any graves.”

“Ohhhhhh, that makes a lot of sense.”

“People get so weird about ghosts and like, I know they aren't real, but because they aren't real someone has to speak up for them, y'know?”

“Right. If the ghosts could do it they would but they can't so you do.”

“I'll haunt any asshole who comes within ten feet of the place with toilet paper.”

“Can I join you?”

“Do you really want to? There's a lot more fun stuff you could be doing on Halloween.”

“I can't imagine anything more fun than spending time with you.” Then she turned around and grinned at Hunter. “How do I look?”

“Like a clown.”

“Perfect! I have to head out but we can make more plans for Tuesday when I get home.”

“Thank you for not making me go to any Halloween parties,” Hunter called after her clown as she jingled merrily away.

While Sara partied, Hunter patrolled, staying a little later at the funeral home each night in case some hooligan tried something.

Sara's back-to-back slate of Halloween parties passed in a blur, each one in a new, wild costume, including a very unsexy cowgirl, a hyena onesie (“In the spirit of my fursona”), and a weirdly sexy personification of the hand from Talk To Me.

Hunter couldn't argue with that, though she fell asleep on Sara's shoulder in the middle of the movie, tuckered out from her late-night patrols.

Finally on Monday they had a minute without parties or patrolling so Sara convinced Hunter to watch the 2002 Scooby-doo movie because, “Daphne and Velma were definitely lesbians.”

Sara was content to hold Hunter close and keep her safe from any ghosts, ghouls, or weird little dogs that threatened them. Tomorrow was the big event, tonight Hunter could rest.

The next day began without much fanfare. Though Sara wore a bright orange pumpkin sweater and spooky skeleton cat earrings (Hunter did a double take when she saw them), Hunter seemed more dressed for Halloween in the floor length black gown that she honestly would have worn on any day of the year.

Since it was getting chillier, Sara dropped Hunter off at work and promised to be back later for guard duty, equipped with food, flashlights, and a pretty rainbow metal pocket knife she'd gotten a few years ago from a tourist trap. Hunter had no knives of her own, but she kept one of her dad's wooden baseball bats upstairs, just in case.

The day passed pretty slowly, there was some general upkeep but a lot of people tried to avoid making funeral arrangements on Halloween. Maybe they thought it was unlucky, or disrespectful to the deceased.

Hunter didn't mind a slow day, it gave her time to straighten up around the place and take a walk among the graves. She gave her right hand woman, Inez, the afternoon off, so by the time Sara came back it was just the two of them.

They had a little cemetery picnic, reminiscent of one of their first dates together, and then they set up shop, making sure they had a good vantage point to see any trespassers.

“I brought stuff to make apple cider later if we want,” Sara said. “And we can share my earbuds and listen to my Halloween playlist when we have downtime. Oh! And I brought blankets in case it gets cold.”

“You thought of everything,” Hunter said, a note of admiration in her voice.

“Well, I wanted you to have a good Halloween.”

“You don't mind that we're spending it at a cemetery?”

“No, because I'm spending it with you.”

Sara had told her a thousand times that that was enough, but as they sat in the cold, when they could have been anywhere else, Hunter knew it was true.

None of the girlfriends she'd had in the past would have done that for her. None of them had loved her that much, maybe none of them had really loved her at all.

“I love you too, Sara without an H. Happy Halloween.”

[citizenscreen]

When you find out Turner Classic Movies (TCM) is spotlighting la grand dame of movies as their Star of the Month in November, you know you have a lot to be thankful for. Few actors can help you take your mind off your troubles more effortlessly than Bette Davis and few could be as bitchy doing it. Bette Davis was a gem. I invite you let me know what your favorite Bette Davis movies are as you watch them on TCM. I’m @CitizenScreen on Twitter, Citizen Screen on Facebook, or simply leave a comment down below.

The TCM Bette Davis month-long festival begins on Tuesday, November 5 with films starring Davis from the 1930s. Each week features a different time period of her career through the 1960s. I’m particularly excited about the Davis films I’ve yet to see like William Dieterle’s Fog Over Frisco (1934) and Bretaigne Windust’s June Bride (1948), but the month is replete with Davis standards everyone must see. To me this is a perfect opportunity to turn people into classics fans. Bette Davis has the kind of presence that makes it impossible to ever forget her.

“That’s me: an old kazoo with some sparklers”

I should mention that William Wyler’s The Letter, one of my favorite Bette Davis films will not air as part of the November festival. It will be featured on TCM in December instead. During this festival, however, you will be treated to such enduring classics as Jezebel, Dark Victory, All About Eve and cult favorites like What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? in addition to many less known features plus a few surprises. As you plan for family gatherings, include a Bette Davis movie or two or three. They’ll bring you closer together.

in ALL ABOUT EVE

in JEZEBEL

in MARKED WOMAN

in DARK VICTORY

in DEAD RINGER

in OF HUMAN BONDAGE

  There are a few other interesting festivals on TCM in November: Wednesdays will feature movies celebrating the 100th anniversary of the American Society of Cinematographers, Dennis Miller and Friends offers an eclectic array of films from various eras, and daily spotlights include the films of the great John Ford, to name a few happenings. It will be a busy month for movie fans. Have fun.

Quotable Davis:

Bette Davis remains one of the most quotable Hollywood figures in history. At least by my estimation and with good reason as you’ll see. I can’t resist her and offer some of my favorite Davis quotes about life, the film industry, Hollywood players, acting and Bette Davis. This should hold you over from Tuesday to Tuesday during her Star of the Month tribute.

I’d marry again if I found a man who had fifteen million dollars, would sign over half to me, and guarantee that he’d be dead within a year.

Old age is no place for sissies.

Everybody has a heart. Except some people.

I was a person who couldn’t make divorce work. For me, there’s nothing lonelier than a turned-down toilet seat

I’m the nicest goddamn dame that ever lived.

With the newspaper strike on, I wouldn’t consider dying.

I am just too much.

From the moment I was six I felt sexy. And let me tell you it was hell, sheer hell, waiting to do something about it.

[referring to her parents’ divorce when she was 7] Of course I replaced my father. I became my own father and everyone else’s.

[on Greta Garbo] Oh, Garbo was divine. Soooo beautiful. I worshipped her. When I became a star, I used to have my chauffeur follow her in my car. I always wanted to meet her.

Acting should be bigger than life. Scripts should be bigger than life. It should all be bigger than life.

I never did pal around with actresses. Their talk usually bored me to tears.

There was more good acting at Hollywood parties than ever appeared on the screen.

Hollywood always wanted me to be pretty, but I fought for realism.

In this business, until you’re known as a monster you’re not a star.

Today everyone is a star – they’re all billed as ‘starring’ or ‘also starring’. In my day, we earned that recognition.

[about Katharine Hepburn‘s tie for the 1968 Oscar with Barbra Streisand] I wanted to be the first to win three Oscars, but Miss Hepburn has done it. Actually it hasn’t been done. Miss Hepburn only won half an Oscar. If they’d given me half an Oscar I would have thrown it back in their faces. You see, I’m an Aries. I never lose.

My favorite person to work with was Claude Rains.

[on John Wayne] I certainly would have given anything to have worked with John Wayne. He’s the most attractive man who ever walked the earth, I think.

[on Errol Flynn] He was just beautiful . . . Errol. He himself openly said, “I don’t know really anything about acting,” and I admire his honesty because he’s absolutely right.

Davis’ most memorable quotes pertained to Joan Crawford with whom she shared a legendary rivalry.

[on working with Joan Crawford in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)] We were polite to each other – all the social amenities, ‘Good morning, Joan’ and ‘Good Morning, Bette’ crap – and thank God we weren’t playing roles where we had to like each other. But people forget that our big scenes were alone – just the camera was on me or her. No actresses on earth are as different as we are, all the way down the line. Yet what we do works. It’s so strange, this acting business. It comes from inside. She was always so damn proper. She sent thank you notes for thank you notes. I screamed when I found out she signed autographs: ‘Bless you, Joan Crawford.’

[After hearing that Joan Crawford cried copiously over “Dark Victory”] Joan always cries a lot. Her tear ducts must be very close to her bladder.

[Of her longtime rival] We must hand it to her. Where she came from and all that–she accomplished *much*. She became a movie star, and I became the great actress. There is of course a need for both in this business, but you have to know *when* to put a stop to the nonsense that goes with the job. Stars are people *too*. They have to eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom too, without applause or a standing ovation. But I don’t *think* Joan Crawford ever sleeps. She never *quits* being Joan Crawford. I find that tedious and quite insane.

I was not Miss Crawford’s biggest fan, but, wisecracks to the contrary, I did and still do respect her talent. What she did not deserve was that detestable book written by her daughter. I’ve forgotten her name. Horrible. I looked at that book, but I did not need to read it. I wouldn’t read trash like that, and I think it was a terrible, terrible thing for a daughter to do. An abomination! To do something like that to someone who saved you from the orphanage, foster homes, who knows what. If she didn’t like the person who chose to be her mother, she was grown up and could choose her own life. I felt very sorry for Joan Crawford, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate my pity, because that’s the last thing she would have wanted, anyone being sorry for her, especially me.

[when told by director Robert Aldrich that the studios wanted Joan Crawford as her co-star for Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964)] I wouldn’t piss on Joan Crawford if she were on fire.

[on Joan] She has slept with every male star at MGM except Lassie.

Why am I so good at playing bitches? I think it’s because I’m not a bitch. Maybe that’s why [Joan Crawford] always plays ladies.

[on the death Joan] You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good . . . Joan Crawford is dead. Good.

[Joan Crawford] and I have never been warm friends. We are not simpatico. I admire her, and yet I feel uncomfortable with her. To me, she is the personification of the Movie Star. I have always felt her greatest performance is Crawford being Crawford.

The best time I ever had with Joan Crawford was when I pushed her down the stairs in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

“I have been uncompromising, peppery, intractable, monomaniacal, tactless, volatile, and oftentimes disagreeable. I suppose I am larger than life.”

  Bette Davis Spotlighted on TCM in November When you find out Turner Classic Movies (TCM) is spotlighting la grand dame of movies as their Star of the Month in November, you know you have a lot to be thankful for.

[realitv]

EPISODE SIX REWRITES: DONAR THE GREAT.

NOTE: The N*zis will hereby be a local mob. It’s the fucking 20s. I don’t know why they did that. I don’t want to know why they did that. I’m not keeping that in and I’m not acknowledging that as anything more than a shitty, awful fucking choice that really had no business being in there. There’s a lot to unpack in that, and none of it is good. The odd subplot of Technical B.oy recruiting Columbia, Actual Propaganda Creature, was pretty clearly written with Media in mind. Columbia, personification of the USA, was historically a pretty strong propaganda tool and now currently survives via Columbia pictures. Media really did get Columbia, huh. Technical B.oy should have been recruiting Vulcan, Hadúr, Luchtaine et cetera for technology and weaponry purposes during the war. It literally felt like the writers wrote this with Media in mind, and then realised they’d overwritten them. 🤷 Obviously y'all don’t have to go along with this specifically but I say DEATH OF THE SHOW, DEATH OF THE AUTHOR BAY-BEE! 

  IT’S A SEEDY, SMOKEY THEATRE: a hallowed hall where patrons dress up, dress down in ERMINE AND PEARLS to forget their troubles for the night, to believe in something bigger and better than they are. Art deco gilt reads AMERICA: 1929; a world on edge, a tipping point. A bullshit, razzle dazzle show that’s rehearsed and played to death to an audience that adores CHEAP THRILLS. No soul; just some sort of temple to the GLORY DAYS that were long since dead and gone. Applause, please! They’ve been watching. Of course they’ve been watching. Centre stage in a plush booth that reeks of cigarette smoke; the static always comes with them. Radio white noise and the snippets of talk shows filtering through the big jazz band and it crackles within the ears of patrons. Reminds them, tells them: GO HOME. SIT DOWN. LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. That little brown box with the glowing little dials; the voice America woke up to. They’ve been watching for a while now; a regular devotee from the big leagues come to bless them with their appearance, their presence; people are drawn to them like flies to honey and when they applaud, when they smile, the theatre does too; rows and rows of teeth on display and Wednesday has the nerve to appear with a drink in his hand. IT’S ON THE HOUSE.   “And if I said I don’t want it, honey?” ALL THE DRAMA OF A TALK SHOW HOST! Accented syllables and vowels drawling into the beginnings of a Transatlantic accent. The Mass Media is RADIANT; glowing; spotlights upon that bleached head of perfect curls and it lights up their face; the beginnings of wires and mainframes only just starting to grow through flesh and ink. I GIVE IT AS A GIFT TO YOU. “And I said I don’t want it. See now, I don’t much approve of you and your ilk taking up space in my domain like this.” Another drag from their cigarette. Smoke spiralling into Wednesday’s face and when they laugh, the room fills with the grainy sounds of a radio jingle. “Using my voice like that! Naughty, naughty. IT IS NOT MEANT FOR YOU.” The smile fades, melts from their expression and it leaves them frigid, leaves them cold and sure. Wednesday’s one good eye burns. “I AM THE MESSAGE. The message is the future. I am not for you.” NOW, NOW, MY DEAR. YOU FORGET, WE DID NOT NEED YOU BEFORE. WE DO NOT NEED YOU NOW. THE PEOPLE WILL FORGET. THE PEOPLE WILL MOVE ON, AND YOU WILL BE OBSOLETE. Forgotten. THERE’S NO NEED TO GET ANGRY. “I was there when they wrote your stories into the Edda, when they carved your image into stone. I was there for a great many things, Al. And now, you are on my stage, using my voice. Maybe I’ll stretch my legs, and go see The Law. Tip him off, since this place just ain’t up to snuff. Or, I let you talk: I’ll take my payment later. Do we have a contract?” The white noise presses in; their eyes meet, a steady beat of silence before he nods. WE HAVE A COMPACT.

  CUT BACK TO PRESENT DAY BLACK BRIAR: The World and GENERAL ORGANA at the War Table, the right hand pushing pieces across the map. THE WAR HAS STARTED. World’s voice echoes; General Organa pausing in their ministrations to cast plasma gaze to them. “And no one has realised it. A train crash in Chicago.” A piece moves across the board. “An armed robbery in Rhode Island.” Another. “Poisoned lobster in Nashville.” Eyes meet. They mirror each other; glance for glance, smile for smile; Leia leans in close. “They have been quiet, despite all of this. Are they building THE DEATH STAR?” NO. THEY HAVE SCATTERED, AS I SAID THEY WOULD. ONE BY ONE, THEY WILL FALL. “Of course, Commander. I only wish to do my part to SERVE THE ALLIANCE.” Silence. AND YOU WILL. OF COURSE YOU WILL. YOU BOTH WILL.” Cut to General Organa, brows furrowed: The World beckons; like a shadow, they follow; a quick, purposeful stride, hands pressed to the small of their back to the sidelines. Social Media sifting through images: SWIPE RIGHT? SUPER LIKE? HEART REACT? COMMENT, TWEET, HASHTAG OVER IT! A soft ‘ahem’ from World and the noise dies; turning around to face Commander and General with wide eyes. YEAH? Nervousness, how unlike her. Leia’s gaze burns. BOTH OF YOU MUST MAKE READY FOR THE BROADCAST. “Affirmative. All preparations have been made: I am ready when you are.” I NEED MORE POWER. Two sets of eyes facing the other piece in the puzzle to find it lacking. OUR NEW FRIEND IS COMING. THEY HAVE ASSURED ME: YOU WILL BE READY. Their shadow covers her; drags away as World exits stage right. Two voices left alone; Leia stares, stares, stares. It’s empty, it’s cold; flat. Social Media holds it, twitches: it’s the same numinous dread The Boy had etched into their features whenever the General came calling. “IT’S A WONDER YOU’RE STILL ALIVE. More power. This is child’s play, but then again, YOU’RE A LITTLE SHORT FOR A STORMTROOPER.”

  AMERICA: 1933. THE THEATRE IS CRACKING, YELLOWED: prohibition may have ended but Great Depression left everyone hungry. THEY ENTER IN SILK AND RUBIES: rosy cheeks and the smile of a Hollywood Starlet. Flushed, ALIVE! Hollow eyes stare at them with RAVENOUS hunger and when they laugh, the world tints with static; PRE-CODE MASTERPIECES and biting social commentary. Standing against the backdrop of an abandoned stage and despite themselves, their feet move; tap, slide, swivel; IS IT THE CHARLESTON? Some new crazy song and dance number? TUNE IN! WATCH THE LATE NIGHT PICTURE SHOW! Snapped out of it; a slow, slow clap echoing; spotlight dies and they stand stock still. I DID NOT THINK I’D SEE YOU BACK HERE, MY DEAR. “Mister Wednesday.” A curl of their lip, hopping down from the stage and it’s a quick one-two step. “I’ve come for my payment. We have a need. We’ve had our eye on Miss Columbia. You remember our terms: I LET YOU SPEAK. Now, I want my slice of the pie.   “Hasn’t it been ages since I saw you last, honey?” YOU. YOU AGAIN. Eyes flitting between Wednesday and The Mass Media; tightening the sash on their robe and drawing it to a close under prying eyes. “I thought you’d have been happier to see lil’ ol’ me again after all this time. I’m real sorry about how the Great War ended up, but you know how it is. Mister Money decided LIBERTY SELLS, and THAT’S A WRAP! Centuries of mythos overwritten by another Goddess. She’s doing fine, by the way. All of us are.” Silence. It falls thick and heavy and the world around them buzzes with white noise. “Cat got your tongue?” WE’RE DOING FINE. A pout. “Oh, now, see here, I just hate liars. Can’t stand ‘em! It’s why I got all these new ethics and standards in place. And you, honey, are violating those. Look at you, you look like someone who just crawled out of the DUST BOWL.” And she looks down. Looks at her faded, out of date clothes. The mouldering room around her. Media takes another drag from their cigarette; lounges in the settee that’s falling apart and grins. “You’re just surviving, sweetheart. The people will forget. Then you will die, and I’ll look back on the beautiful legacy we had together, all that teamwork through the centuries and say to myself: ‘If only Miss Columbia had listened to me!’ There’s something coming. We can all feel it. I want to give you your place back, I want to move forward with you. I’ll even put you in the pictures, then you’ll never die.” It’s served on a silver platter, tied with velvet ribbon: how can any God resist? WELL -- I -- Wednesday holds up a hand. SHE’LL THINK ABOUT IT, GIVE YOU AN ANSWER SOON. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, honey.” A languid sigh; standing in a smooth motion as they moved towards the door. “--I’ll be seeing you on the studio lot.” 

  EVEN DYING MALLS HAVE EYES: grainy CCTV footage near a repair chaos picks up a tremor, something not quite right: Wednesday’s spear, carved with runes; near repaired. A black and white eye presses forward, stares. The screen goes blank with a bzzt.  RED ALERT. The noise echoes; lights flashing; World and their right hand ROD SERLING come back by popular remand; finger hovering over red button and the World pushes down to bring an awful silence. WHAT WAS THAT? Social Media scampering in; out of breath. IT’S SO ANALOGUE. As was everything within the space. WE ARE AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. “--I was not aware that we were on one.” A sideways glance; World and Serling’s eyes meet; electricity flavours the air. THEY HAVE CARVED THE RUNES INTO THE SPEAR? “Yes. IT IS MAN’S PREROGATIVE TO CREATE THEIR OWN HELL: and we, I believe, HAVE JUST CROSSED INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE.” 

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[significant-what]

#suomi100

the following post has nothing to do with solangelo or pjo/hoo/toa whatsoever, so if you’re not interested in my personal life at all just keep scrolling, no gay demigods here.

as some of you already know, i’m finnish. as in from finland. as in a finn. i don’t really talk about it because there’s really nothing to talk about and it’s really not that important, but it’s important for this post, so i’m starting with it. i’m finnish.

some of you may also know (and lately it feels like most of the world knows) that this wednesday (6.12.2017) is finland’s independence day, and finland turns 100 (yay)! so of course it’s a big celebration and different countries are even celebrating with us by lighting up monuments with white and blue (i may or may not have cried when i learned about this because it’s so effing cute omg).

i’m not going to go into history and politics and all that boring stuff about finnish independence. that’s not what i’m here for. if you want to learn more, you can do so in wikipedia.

what i am going to do, however, is tell you a few things i like about finland. not the boring things everyone lists, like the lakes and lapland and salmiakki and sisu (although all of those are cool). noooo, this is a list of my favourite things. no judging.

(and now i have my favourite things from sound of music stuck in my head. not bad.)

so grab your koskenkorva and your fazerin sininen. let’s talk about finland.

first (and this is important), we have TwoDads! sure, it’s just juice boxes and cereal, but it’s cool. and it’s name is two dads. what’s not to love?

finland’s national personification is called suomi-neito, the finnish maiden. too bad her arm is cut off...

moomins! they’re small round pacifists that live in a round multi-story building in a valley. they’re adorable.

the fact that the whole country gets crazy about ice hockey. sure, there are always issues, and we hate the russian team and the judges are unfair and the team management is always shitting the whole thing, but at least we rage as one. gotta admire that. (the statements here are not important, they’re said in the heat of the moment. we don’t really hate the russian team. we’re just serious about hockey.)

we only have one railway company, vr. the trains are clean and modern and good and whatnot, but the funny thing is that they seem to always be late. there are dozens of jokes. my favourite is that vr is actually shortened from the words “venaa rauhassa”, slang for “wait in peace”. we also have a joke that finnair promises to bring their customers home for christmas and vr starts the same campaign in february.

the fact that most people here speak at least one other language than finnish. we have a lot of swedish speaking people here, and it’s our second official language and therefore a mandatory subject at school. every child starts learning english at school at the age of 11 at latest. that makes three languages in total. on top of that many kids (myself included) starts learning french, spanish, german, russian, estonian or multiple other languages at an early age. go education!

last but not least, the aforementioned fazer. people praise swiss chocolate, but clearly they have never tasted finnish milk chocolate.

yeah. that’s a few things off the top of my head. on wednesday night i will curl up on a couch with a glass of mulled wine and join half of finland in watching tons of people shake hands with the president. happy birthday, finland. here’s to another great one hundred years!

[walliamsclassnews]

What an exciting week!

It’s been a very busy week for us here at Perryfields! There’s been so much going on and still lots more to do before the half term is over.

Well done to this week’s pupil of the week, Orla. You could always be pupil of the week and you are a pleasure to teach. I am so proud of you for taking part in the spelling bee, especially since you agreed to do it last minute. You shone brightly on that stage and you were absolutely fantastic! You did so well! You should absolutely be so proud of yourself! You always put 100% into everything you do. Well done Orla and keep it up!

On Wednesday, we had the annual spelling bee and after a very tense round one in Walliams Class, eight children went through to the spelling bee in front of the whole class. We had Abdul and Orla from Darwin, Fadma and Lucas from Fleming, Rustie and Isha from Hawking and Jessie and Mara from Anning. They were all competitng against each other and the eight children from Lewis Class. All of these children were fantastic and did extremely well. At the end of the round, Orla and Abdul and Jasmine and Zane had scored the most points in their team so they went head to head. Abul and Orla won, with Orla eventually claiming victory overall. All of them should be so proud of themselves and a big well done to Orla for being the Year 4 champion and winning 100 house points for Darwin.

In English, we have been reading Escape from Pompeii by Christina Balit and continuing with our history topic about the Romans. The story is set in 79AD in Pompeii at the time of Mount Vesuvius’ eruption. We have come across Mount Vesuvius before in our learning and this time, we got to enhance our learning and find out more about Pompeii and what had happened that fateful day. We focused on the characters, Livia and Tranio, writing about their reactions to the eruption. We focused on the setting of Vesuvius, describing the eruption and how the city was covered in ash.

The children had to focus on complex sentences and  fronted adverbials and we started using personification. We discussed how the literacy feature is using human characteristics or features to describe something that isn’t alive or human. We shared ideas about how to personify Mount Vesuvius, including examples such as : erupted with anger, raining fury, it spluttered out lava and many more. Their writing was amazing!

In maths this week, we have continued our work on fractions. We started our week by learning about adding and subtracting fractions with the same denominator. We moved onto fractions of amount and learnt that we need to divide by the denominator and multiply by the numerator. We focused on unit fractions at first (1 as a numerator) and non-unit fractions (more than 1 as a numerator). We even explored the inverse by trying to work out if 14 is 2/3 of what number and having to multiply by the denominator and divide by the numerator.

In history this week, we learnt more about Boudicca and her rebellion. We discussed why she led a rebellion and what the effects of her rebellion were. We learnt how after her husband King Prasutagus died, the Romans tried to tax the Iceni tribe. When Boudicca refused, the Romans hurt Boudica and her daughter. The Iceni tribe were outraged that their queen had been hurt and humiliated and this was what led to the rebellion. The rebellion meant the destruction of Camulodunum (Colchester) and the Temple of Claudius.

We went on to discuss primary and secondary sources and which ones were more reliable and why. We discussed what had been written about Boudicca and how they had been written by Romans many years after the events. 

We then learnt about the Roman army and what the soldiers in the army had to do. We discussed how many soldiers there were in a legion (5000) and how they were sorted in cohorts and led by centurions. 

After discussing what they needed to be to join the army, the children had to write an application letter to join the Roman army and persuade the Emperor (me) to let them join the army. They had to sell themselves to them sound like they needed to be in the Roman army. It’ll be interesting to see who has convinced the great Emperor Bishop to allow them into the Roman army.

Well done to Walliams Class for being top of the leaderboard in Spelling Shed! We were 9th last week and now we’re first! This is an amazing achievement and I am so proud of them! Keep up the hard work!

We loved our ERIC time again this week! Please make sure that the children are reading at home and recording all readings in their homework diaries.

And on that note, homework diaries in on Monday and homework in on Tuesday. Maths is on a piece of paper this week so that needs to be handed in to the maths teacher next week.

Have a lovely week, everyone!

Miss Bishop ☺️

[365footballorg-blog]

Adrian Chiles: My Croatian roots & why I feel blessed they're in the final

Adrian Chiles’ father is English and mother Croatian.

Football finds new ways of torturing me all the time.

On Wednesday night I couldn’t enjoy a team I love winning a semi-final of a World Cup because they’d gone and beaten another team I love. But I feel truly blessed to be here watching a team of mine in the final.

I suppose this story starts in 1962 when Mum, then Ljerka Basic, finished university in Zagreb, which was then in a country called Yugoslavia, and made her way across Europe to the UK.

She found work as an au pair for a family in Edgbaston in Birmingham. The cleaning woman, Dad’s Auntie Doris, suggested her nephew Peter take her out some time. And that was that. Before long I turned up.

When I first got a Croatian national team to support a quarter of a century ago, I’d already been put through the wringer by England for about as long. The Italia ’90 semi-final defeat was unbearable, the 1992 Euros were unbearable in a different way, and our failure to qualify for the 1994 World Cup was the stuff of nightmares.

We (England) were awful – but suddenly I had another “we” to support in the shape of Croatia.

I remember their first unofficial international, against the USA, and thinking it was all very nice that this new country of mine had a football team.

But then we beat Italy in Palermo in a qualifier for Euro 96 and I felt the first tingling of excitement that something special was happening.

Come the tournament, their red and white checkerboard shirts captivated everyone – and beating Denmark at Hillsborough was something special. I got a coach up from London with a load of Croatian friends. As we got close to the ground many of them shed tears at the sight of beat-up old buses all the way from Croatia.

The war was not long over; it felt like football was now helping the country really come alive.

That match was a beautiful thing. We won 3-0 with Davor Suker sublimely chipping Peter Schmeichel. I went so berserk that a copper took me to one side explaining very slowly and forcefully that I should calm myself. I realised he assumed I didn’t speak English. I apologised very sincerely.

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Two years later I was going berserk again.

This time it was a World Cup quarter-final against Germany. I was in Toronto for a mate’s wedding and found an enormous bar called The Cro’s Nest. There must have been 500 Croats in there. We won 3-0. It was complete mayhem.

I flew back home, then to Paris for another day of red and white checked madness before the semi-final that France won fair and square. It is a result Croatians have been swearing to avenge for two decades. Sunday is our chance.

In those 20 years we’ve had a chaotic mixed bag from Croatia: qualifying for tournaments, not qualifying; beating some great sides, being beaten by some poor sides; and finding ways of beating ourselves.

Think Goran Ivanisevic, a personification of Croatia and its football team in tennis-playing form.

He was unplayable for long periods in which he brimmed with lethal self-confidence – only to then fall to pieces in a hail of apparent loathing for himself, his racquet, the umpire, a line judge, the world and anything else he could think of.

That’s Croatia all over. I was asked the other day if Croatia had an inferiority or superiority complex. The answer is both.

They’ll tell you all day long they’re the greatest people, from the greatest country ever, with the best athletes anywhere, the bluest sea, the best olive oil, cheese, ham, wine etc etc etc.

And just as you’re getting a bit bored of hearing that, they’ll go into a diatribe about how the country is corrupt, going to pot, doomed to failure and chaos, how everyone wants to leave but can’t and blah blah blah.

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For heaven’s sake, some of them have even found a way of actually not wanting Croatia to win because of something to do with Luka Modric’s relationship with the disgraced ‘Mr Big’ of Croatian football, Zdravko Mamic.

And when I told Mum I’d interviewed the Croatian president, Kolinda Grabar-Kitarovic – she of the checkerboard dress and jigs of delight at the quarter-final – she said: “Oh yes, she’s great, but a lot of my friends don’t like her. Then again, nobody there seems to like anyone else there any more.”

I spend a lot of time in Croatia. I love the place and the people so much, I really do. But at the same time they drive me nuts. Funnily enough, I think that’s roughly how Mum and I feel about each other.

When Ivanisevic won Wimbledon in 2001 the whole country wept with joy and relief. I swear the ground shook beneath their feet. I am genuinely fearful that if we win on Sunday there will be a risk of some kind of seismic event in Croatia. The place may actually combust with joy. Who knows, they might even stop arguing between themselves for a minute.

Can they do it? I think they can. They’re a special team with a couple of really special players who are on an absolute roll.

France are arguably stronger on paper, but their opponents will – typically for Croatia – embrace the status of underdog while at the same time feeling quite sure they’ll win.

The French are favourites, but football is chaos. And when it comes to chaos, the Croatians are in their element.

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2018 Fifa World Cup final, France v Croatia Venue: Luzhniki Stadium, Moscow Date: Sunday, 15 July Kick-off: 16:00 BST Coverage: Watch on BBC One, BBC Sport website and iPlayer; Listen on Radio 5 live; Text commentary online

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BBC Sport – Football

Adrian Chiles: My Croatian roots & why I feel blessed they're in the final was originally published on 365 Football

[usiel21]

Wednesday and Enid: A slice of life Part II

So Wednesday has discovered that she has fallen in love with Enid, and like an Addams, attempts to court Enid who is completely oblivious to Wednesday's attempts to woo her (Not really, Enid swoons every time but convinces herself that Wednesday can't possibly have feelings for her) and Wednesday's courting attempts get increasingly more bold and risqué

Enid's a werewolf? Wednesday hunts down a Buck and drag's it's carcass straight up to Ophelia Hall. Whilst sweating and swearing every two seconds because Wednesday is Hobbit Sized and is dragging a deer 1.5x her body weight. (Provide Food)

Enid's always cold? She builds her a Nest, using a combination of her own clothing's and sheets and Enid's Own. (Provide Shelter)

Enid can't sleep? Wednesday plays gentle music on her cello until Enid falls asleep (Providing safe space to sleep)

Two transfer students haven't learned that Enid is off limits to being bullied, everyone is quickly reminded as to why that is, as Enid is cornered as they harass her, they suddenly realise they fucked up as Wednesday slips in-between them, No one questions the two screaming students hanging by their ankles from the branch of a tree. (Provides Protection)

But eventually Wednesday feels the curse take hold more and tighter on her soul and decides its time to go all or nothing.

Wednesday dresses up appropriately and gets everything set up and awaits Enid's return to their dorm, she dims the lights and lights several candles and places them around the room

Soon she can hear Enid giggling and laughing as her footsteps quickly approach, she clears her throat and straightens up as the door knob begins to turn.

Enid: Wedne... (She pauses noting the room and Wednesday’s attire) Whoa...

Wednesday: Enid. In these past weeks i have attempted to woo, court and win your heart by showing you why i am an ideal Mate and Paramour for you and show the depths of my feelings for you, Alas i have been unsuccessful.

Enid: (With heart eyes) Wait! Willa I---

Wednesday: (She holds up her hand to shush the blonde) Thus you have left me no choice but to employ the most seductive form of courting known to an Addams, dancing.

And then Wednesday starts to do THE dance.

And both of them forget that Yoko is there watching all of this absolute disaster of a seduction take place and she's just watching like 

But Enid, having already seen how Wednesday dances at the Rave’N and knowing how passionate an Addams is about their art form, their love language, just watches completely transfixed, hands clasped together by her chest, heart eyes watching Wednesday’s every move. Her jealously at watching Wednesday with Tyler evaporating as Wednesday dances for her, and only her.

(I can literally see Wednesday doing what Sheldon is doing, only with an intense stare fixated on Enid Lmao)

Yoko just walks right back out, typing into her phone to Divina about how she just can’t with these two useless gay disasters