#to be more clear i mean phonics

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Recently, through Twitter, I have become aware of the fact that modern American parents have been very ignorant of their parental duties when it comes to their children. Parents are banding together to complain about the schools their children attend because their kids are getting bad grades in class, or they're getting detentions for doing bad consistently, or they're being held back because they're just not at the same level as their peers.

There was an entire thread of some woman whining about how the school was failing her kid, because his English class grade was so bad. There were thousands of comments agreeing and various reposts with anecdotes from other parents with similar experiences.

"My 26 y/o son can't even write a check for God's sake!"

And one single person finally replied with, "Do you guys not teach your kids anything at home before they start going to school?" Which then spawned people with actual common sense questioning the level of involvement these people had in the lives of their kids.

This is what led to a large surge of people complaining about how it's the school's job to teach them everything and they did their job just keeping them alive.

Now, I don't want to be mean, but it's gonna come across that way.

Parents are lazy these days.

When I was a child, my Nana and mom had me learning with Hooked on Phonics before I entered pre-K. I was 3 years old and already sounding out words that rhymed. I was practicing how quickly I could say them in under 30 seconds so I could progress to the next lesson.

mat hat sat that cat vat pat bat fat lat rat brat

etc...

When I was in pre-K(4 years old), they had a single, really old computer that had a bunch of Winnie the Pooh CD-ROM games. Because I always got my work done faster than everybody else, they let me use the computer because I could actually read and follow Pooh's instructions, and it kept me busy.

And when I entered kindergarten for the first time, I was really surprised to see that Hooked on Phonics was actually part of my curriculum and I was already very well ahead of everyone else. My mom and Nana took traching me very seriously. They not only read to me, but they would also get me Madeline books and cassette tapes from the children's library downtown. And then I would listen to the cassettes telling the story while reading the book at the same time to get used to the words.

At three years old, I was helping out in the kitchen, learning all of the different kitchen utensils and types of measurement. My mom often went between English, French and American Sign Language at random times so I picked up a lot of stuff that way. We never had a computer in the house for the first 12 years of my life, but I did have an old keyboard to learn how to type. Nana gave me basic piano lessons for a couple years. Mom taught me how to hem my clothes because she would buy me bigger clothes, hem them to size, and then let them out as I grew. Hell, Sperm Donor taught me how to write a check when I was 8. He was also a Financial Adviser, so I got a lot of lessons on money management, investments, and 401Ks and shit.

All these incredibly simple things ended up benefiting me later on, because I was so far ahead of all of the other students that it consistently put me at odds with them. I was better at reading, cooking, sewing, music, languages, etc... I was allowed time to do whatever I wanted while the rest of them had to catch up.

There is a lot more to being a parent than just making sure your kid eats three meals a day and doesn't die in a stupid way. And it seems like a lot of parents these days have completely forgotten that they have a duty to their kids beyond the feeding and clothing thing.

Certain things SHOULD be taught in schools, like how to balance a checkbook. But if it's clear that the school won't cover it, why aren't YOU doing something about that? And why do so many parents have no clue what the hell their kids are even getting up to in school? Why don't y'all get involved in your kid's lives?

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 28

Conspiracy theory or propaganda

So today's entry is special because it's possibly my last one unless I managed to do something else in the following days, and because it covers two prompts at once. The aforementioned, obviously, and also the one about OCs.

I already posted about Molly during last year's Kloktober though it's not necessary to check that one to read this. She just...certainly appears here.

“Rivalry turned friendship? Did the long time feud has finally come to an end? Dethklok’s guitarists Skwisgaar Skwigelf and Toki Wartooth were spotted in the Bahamas beaches very cozy with each other!” The Dethklok Minute Host said, as footage of the pair flashed on the screen. In one of the photos, Toki was hugging Skwisgaar from behind, in another, they were holding hands while walking along the shore. 

“In fact, fans are beginning to theorize that there might be something more amongst the musicians!” He continued, as a third picture showed their grainy silhouettes in what seemed to be an intimate moment under an umbrella.

“I’ve known ever since I first saw Dethklok live.” A brunette girl with low ponytails declared on camera. She was wearing a shirt with a badly edited image of Skwisgaar and Toki. “Their energy on stage, the sexual tension…” She giggled, adjusting her steamed glasses. “It’s clear they’re not just bandmates, they are f-”

“I used to dream about them making out during a show or something.” Another girl was shown. She had long black curls and half-lidded eyes. “Or one of them confessing their feelings during an interview, you know? I can’t believe they’re finally together!” She jumped in excitement. “So excited for the next Dethklok concert!” 

“Duh, Skwistok is, like, legendary amongst musician pairs”. A blond girl with short hair declared. “They’re soulmates, it was clearly about time for them to realize that.” She shrugged. “Toki even dated a woman that looks like Skwisgaar!”

“Conspiracy or truth?” The Dethklok Minute Host pointed at this screen. “Are Skwisgaar and Toki exploring something else besides death metal harmonies? Guess we’ll have to find out! Stay tuned for the next Dethklok minu-” The TV was turned off before he managed to finish.

Charles turned with the remote in his hand. “I thought you promised me you’d be careful, boys.”

“Hows was we supposeds to knows about the papapizza was in the beach too?” Toki threw his arms in the air. “You tolds Toki you has reserveds it for us!”

“Well, see, that’s the point.” Charles said. “You’re not safe anywhere from paparazzis. That’s why I told you to be careful.”

“You didn’ts says dats expleaseticivelies!” Skwisgaar countered with an accusing finger. “You didn’t says dats at alls!”

“I did, in fact, I said it, uh, many times.”

“You lies! You lies through yours mouth!”

“I believe the expression you’re looking for is lying through your nose and-”

Toki gasped, covering his mouth. “Yous calling me a liar?”

“I don’t-”

“You calls us liars?” Skwisgaar frowned. “You ams aware dat ams homes of phonics and we cants fires you for dats, rights?”

“Alright.” Charles raised his hands in an attempt to stop the nonsense. “I’m merely trying to protect your privacy like you asked me too, but if you want the press to accost you about your relationship then by all means go ahead.” Without expecting an answer, he left.

“He gots mads.” Skwisgaar said.

“How ams they always know?” Toki was looking at the ceiling. “How can theys know befores us?”

“Whats?”

Toki gazed at Skwisgaar. “The goils. They says they knew we ams in loves since forevers ago. Hows?”

“Eugh, Tokes, de fans ams insane, remembers?”

“Ja, buts…” Toki seemed unconvinced.

Skwisgaar suddenly turned serious. “Wells actuallies, I knows somet’ings abouts dat.”

Toki turned to him, intrigued.

Skwisgaar took a deep breath, like he was about to reveal the most compromising information in the world. “Dey has a special cults whats reunites every fridays nights. Dey gathers in a circles wif a candles and pickstures of us in de middles…” He paused. “And dey prays to…”

“Whats?!” 

Blue eyes bore into him. “Ams you shores yous ready for dis?”

“Yeah! What ams dey prayings for?!”

“Homos sex!” Skwisgaar blurted with a cackle and Toki rolled his eyes.

“Ha has…very funnies, Skwisgaar…ams totallies dyings from laughters…”

“Oh, come ons!” Skwisgaar hugged him by the necks. “What ams you worrieds abouts? They knows nothingks!”

Toki forced a smile. “Ja, yous probably rights…fans ams weirdos…”

“They ams.” Skwisgaar turned on the TV, except this time he was looking for a different channel. “Just delusionals peoples.”

“Ja…”

–

The battered man was dragged by a couple of individuals wearing long, dark cloaks. Their faces darkened, they wordlessly brought the man inside a basement, where many more people in the same attire were reunited. 

“Agh!” The man screamed as he was shoved inside. He was so roughed up he couldn't tell if the light was red or it was the blood in his eyes. “Let me go!” He tried to free himself from the handcuffs to no avail.

One of the cloaked individuals whispered to what seemed to be the leader of the place.

“Bring him to me.” The leader said, in a surprisingly effeminate voice. 

In a flash, the man was tossed into the cold concrete, and the cloaked people gathered around him in a circle. They all held the same book in their hands though he couldn’t see what it was. The leader approached him and they all began chanting incomprehensible words.

“What is this?! Where am I?!” He felt something wet under him and looked down to realize the floor was stained with blood. When he looked up, he saw the leader being handed a guitar that she handled like a weapon. “No!” He tried to escape when she walked closer but he was surrounded by all sides. “Why?!”

The leader’s hood fell on her shoulders, revealing a brunette girl with low ponytails. The light was reflecting on her glasses and didn’t allow him to see her eyes. “Why?” She repeated, still raising the guitar in the air. “Well, for Skwistok.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t take it personal.” She said, completely devoid of expression. “You’re just a sacrifice to preserve Skwistok.” She paused. “So they’re always together.”

“What the hell are you- no, no, no! Wait! No-” The guitar crashed against the man’s head, cracking his skull in half. His torso fell on the floor, lifeless as the chants grew louder.

“Skwistok real! Skwistok real!” The group recited, raising their arms in celebration.

The girl smiled, wiping the blood off her cheek as someone took away the guitar. A new candle was lit and added to the hundreds of candles surrounding the basement.

Outside, a sign on the door read “Skwistok Cult”.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Looks Clear

This is part 8 of Snow In The Dark. I hope you like it :)

Fic Summary: Snow has never known who she was. Being raised in the streets made her strong but lonely. That changed when she met Jack them becoming as close as sisters. She thought she found her family. That all changes when she crashes on a planet with only one rule. Stay in the light.

Part Summary: Snow along with the others decied the best way to make it off the planet alive.

Riddick x OC Snow

Warnings: Language.

Let me know if you want to be tagged :P : @here4thespice @amarokofficial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane @pinkcrystal44 @goblingirlsarah @shelbyteller @classyunknownlover

Part 1 Part 7

Knowing that light hurts the beasts trying to hurt us, everyone quickly takes inventory of everything that makes light.

Despite how bad it looked or not caring how it looked I stuck close to Riddick. He kept me alive more than once today.

Plus I felt calmer around him. More myself. More in control. Something about being next to a man you knew could handle anything that got thrown at him.

So I stood next to him as I stood around the burning cutting torch trying to figure out a plan.

“So we got one cutting torch, we got two hand lights. There’s gotta be something we can rip out of the crash ship.”

“Spirts.” Paris says leaning forward to fan himself.

I was humid and stuffy in this room but it was better than being eaten alive.

“Anything over 45 proof burns rather well.”

“Mmm molotovs my favorite.” I say earning a snort from Jack.

I wink at her and smile. 

“Look, it's better than nothing.” Johns says, glaring at me.

“It was a joke.” I say, lifting my hands up.

I don’t even react as I feel the warm body heat behind me. Johns eyes bouncing to the figure behind me told me who it was.

I don’t know what I did to have the killer of the group be my bodyguard but I would take it. 

“How many bottles you got?” Carolyn asks, getting us in order once again.

“I don’t know, maybe ten.”

“Okay.” She says, nodding and looking over at Johns.

“Johns you got some flares.”

“So, maybe we got enough light.” She says, nodding.

“Enough for fucking what?” Johns asks.

“How thick are you? Do you wanna tell him or should I?” I ask, looking at Johns then Carolyn.

She holds her hand up as to tell me to shut up or she has this.

“We stick to the plan. We get the four cells back to the skiff, we’re off this rock.” 

“Look I hate to ruin a beautiful theory with an ugly fact.” Paris says standing up.

“But that sand cat is solar. It won't run at night.” He says walking over to Carolyn.

“So we carry the cells. We drag them whatever it takes.”

“You mean tonight with all those things out there?” Jack asks, holding onto her legs rocking back and forth. She was scared but doing a great job of holding it in.

I move to sit next to her wrapping my arms around her.

“It’s better to go now then wait them out. We don’t know how long the eclipse is going to last.” I say gently rubbing her back.

“Alright, how long can this thing last?” Johns asks, making me bite my tongue from starting something with him. That wouldn’t help us survive.

“A few hours? A day tops?” He says, very matter of fact.

I clench my jaw ready to shut up but decide against it.

“Didn’t we have this conversation a few hours ago? These people wouldn’t have left everything they own or the ship for that matter if they only had to deal with these things for a few hours or a day tops.” I say spitting the last word.

“I had the impression from the model the two planets were moving as one and there would be a lasting darkness.” Imam says looking at Johns.

“Thank you.” I say, holding my hand out towards Imam.

“Maybe you can only understand men.” I say earning a glare but he doesn't respond to me.

“Mmm.. These suns gotta come up sometime. And if these creatures are phonic about light then we just sit tight and we let the sun come up.” He says, meeting my gaze, the look on his face like he figured it out.

“Okay, where is the water we are going to drink? Or food or oh yeah we’ll probably freeze because deserts get cold at night time and a few days without sun will most likely kill us. If the lack of water and food doesn't. That’s if I put up with you that long.” I say, clenching my jaw.

“Why you little-.” Johns says starting to stand up. 

“Okay enough.” Carolyn says stepping in the middle of the room blocking our line of sight from each other.

“I’m sure somebody else said the same thing, locked inside that coring room.” 

“We need to think about everybody now. Especially the kid.” He says pointing at all of us.

“How scared is this poor boy gonna be out there in the dark.”

“Oh don’t you bring him into this.” I say, clenching my jaw and standing up. 

 “Yeah, don't use him like that.” Carolyn says.

“Like what?” Johns asks, looking disgusted.

“As a smoke screen.” Carolyn says at the same time I speak.

“As a shield.” 

“You deal with your own fear.”

“Yeah it’s okay to be scared Johns.”

“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth for two seconds and let me come up with a plan that dosn’t involve mass suicide.”

“You came up with one. It's sitting here waiting for the lights to go out so those things can eat us.” I say, the sounds of the creatures outside whaling making me take a breath.

Them clearly hearing us.

Breathing the breath out slowly I move to sit back next to Jack, wrapping my arm around her.

“I’m waiting.” Carolyn says, making me smirk.

I may have to change my mind about her after all.

“How much you weigh Johns?”

“What’s it matter Carolyn?” 

“How much?” She snaps back.

“Around seventy nine kilos.”

“Because you’re seventy nine kilos of gutless white meat.”

“And that’s why you can’t think of a better plan and you want to use Jack as an excuse.” I say joining in.

“Is that fucking right?” He says jumping up, snatching his gun out as he does. 

I don’t flinch.

I watch Riddick stand up stepping in front of him, blocking him from getting to any of us.

“Where are you going?” Johns asks, pressing the barrel of the gun into RIddick’s chin.

I have to stop myself from standing up. The anger I have towards Johns is starting to get to its boiling point. I wanted to hurt him but that would help any of us get out of this.

“This solves nothing.” Imam says, as if he was reading my thoughts.

I watch Riddick smirk, him lifting his goggles and looking over at Johns as the sound of tapping fills the air.

My eyes dropped to the sound seeing a homemade blade right on John’s crotch.

“Okay.” Johns says taking a step and sitting back down.

I couldn’t tell if he was smirking or giving him a fake smile. The look on Johns face creeping me out either way.

My head snaps to the right when Carolyn moves to crouch next to me and Jack.

“They’re afraid of our light. That means we don’t have to be so afraid of them.” She says calmly. Her eyes lifted up to meet mine.

I smile at her then down at Jack.

“You know I will make sure you are safe.” I say, rubbing her back. Jack nods, looking nervous but less scared.

“And you are sure you can get us there? Even in the dark?” Iman asks, looking over at us.

“No I can’t.” She says standing up.

“But he can.” She says looking over at Riddick.

I look up at him, his goggles still off him turning to look over his shoulder at her, the light hitting his face just right to show the silver shine in his eyes.

“That’s the smartest thing you said all day.” I say looking up at her.

She nods and bends down picking up the torch.

“Come on, I have an idea.”

Carolyn leads us back to the entrance of the ship. She uses the torch to shine under the ship in case there are any creatures hiding.

Sticking close together everyone starts to head out following her.

I’m stopped when a large hand grabs my wrist. Looking up over my shoulder I meet the face of Riddick.

Us being swallowed by darkness as the others leave out ahead of us.

“You know not everyone is gonna make it out of here.” He says, his low rubbing voice settling around me. It almost reminds me of the way a cat purrs. Something animal about it.

“Then let's make sure you, me, and Jack are on the list of the ones that do.”

“Is that all you care about?” He asks, sounding like a loaded question which I was trying not to read into.

“Honestly? Yes.”

He smirks, letting go of my wrist and heading towards the door. I stay close to him. The group of us stayed quiet as we walked outside up to the other side of the crashed ship.

“Riddick.” Carolyn whispers it is too risky for us to keep moving forward.

Riddick slides past me, his hand brushing my lower back as he does. I’m shocked by the shiver it shoots up my spine.

He walks to the front of the group, slipping his goggles up to look inside.

“Looks clear.” He calls back.

Johns pushes past me practically shoving me over as he sneaks up next to Riddick, gun in hand. Him having a light on the end of it.

I have to bite my lip to keep from snatching it out of his hand and beating him with it. Thoughts of stabbing him in his sleep enter my mind.

As soon as Johns light shines into the ship a monster comes jumping out towards them screeching.

Riddick drops to the ground, out of the way while Johns jumps to the right landing on his back.

The creature flies over our head away from the light. All of us ducking down. Jack’s grip on my hand tightening.

“You said"clear "." Johns says looking up at Riddick him slightly down a slope.

“I said it looks clear.” Riddick says back, making me smile at the sass.

“Well what’s it look like now?” He asks.

Riddick raises his head taking a quick glance before turning to look back shrugging.

“Looks clear.” He says, making me snort a giggle.

Everyone turned to look at me in a shocked horror.

“I’m sorry that wasn’t meant to be funny, I know.” I say, as Riddick and Johns get up.

Johns casually walked into the ship, everyone following behind. Jack rushed ahead to stay close to Carolyn’s light.

Riddick doesn't move until I reach his side.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. I think the exhaustion is finally catching up to me.” I say, feeling heat rise up my cheeks.

Riddick doesn't answer him, lifting a hand to grab my chin. I don’t speak as he moves my head to the left and the right, most likely looking at the bruises there.

Taking a shaky breath I let it out as his touch fell from my face, my skin almost burning from where he touched it.

“I thought I smelt blood.” He says, I almost feel like more to himself than me. But he didn’t seem like the type to talk to himself.

“Is my lip bleeding?” I question reaching up to touch my lip.

“Must have been something else.” He says, turning towards the ship, the clicking sound of the creatures starting to grow louder.

“We need to leave.” He says.

I nod following him into the ship.

[sleptwithinthesun]

few things to clarify about the h/ouse m/d t/ourette's au i've started:

c/hase has t/ourette's s/yndrome, and was diagnosed at the age of sixteen. he did not display symptoms in his youth; they developed as a response to stress and just... stuck around. he started ticcing when he was roughly fourteen.

the vast majority of his tics are categorized as simple and complex motor tics. basically, that means that his tics involve one (simple) or more (complex) muscle groups to trigger movement.

however, c/hase also does have vocal tics, which can be simple (usually just a sound) or complex (words or phrases). simple ones are far more common for him.

vocal tics can be loosely separated into verbal or phonic tics. verbal tics involve sound creation from vocal cords; phonic tics are sounds made with the mouth that don't involve vocal cords. examples of both are, respectively, humming and whistling.

c/hase does not have coprolalia or copropraxia, which are the 'cursing tics'. personally, i have both. i didn't want to give them to chase, though, for fear of perpetuating a stereotype.

he does have echolalia/echopraxia (repeating other people's words or actions as a tic), and palilalia/palipraxia (repeating one's own words or actions as a tic).

the previous three types of tics (copro-, echo-, and pali-) mentioned are all complex tics. the suffixes -lalia and -praxia pertain to vocal and motor tics, respectively.

a premonitory urge is the feeling, which is usually described as a building pressure or sense of wrongness in a certain area, that a person may feel before ticcing. it usually makes that person aware of the need to tic, and doesn't go away until the tic is completed. c/hase does experience this, but his premonitory urge builds up quickly, meaning that he's often unaware that he's going to tic until right before he does it. complex vocal tics usually surprise him.

c/hase's experiences and tics are based off my own. as i flesh out the au, specific tics that c/hase has may change. you may take those instances as him losing some tics and gaining some others, or certain tics changing. for example, i used to have a vocal tic that had me sing two notes, but now, i hum it.

my writing is not going to be entirely accurate. i have never written a character with t/ourette's before, and it will take me time to understand how to word my experiences.

i will do my best to remain consistent. if there are issues, please don't point them out. not every tic presents on a daily basis, and severity changes. my tics fluctuate day-to-day. that's how it is.

as a warning, there will be self-harming tics in the future, which involve c/hase hitting or punching himself in some capacity. again, i directly experience this. if you are uncomfortable or feel unsafe, do not read it. trigger warnings will be before the cut.

having t/ourette's does not prevent c/hase from being a doctor. there are certain struggles, yes, but he is perfectly capable of performing his tasks and taking care of patients. if i did not make this very clear in the first fic, here is your reminder.

stories will alternate between snz-focused and t/ourette's-focused. if you just want to read the snz ones and ignore the others, i won't blame you in the slightest. TS is uncomfortable for some people. still, discomfort is healthy. please do not push yourself beyond your boundaries. only read if you feel safe to.

...i think that's it. idk. there's a lot to it, and i haven't even touched on the other symptoms of TS besides tics. i might reblog this later with more information, but i think this is what's necessary to understand going forward. i really appreciate you all letting me write these stories as it means a lot for me to be able to share this. your respect, kindness, and enthusiasm are received well and with appreciation.

[burinazar]

I deleted my reply because I think people may be getting that from a portion in the article that mentions sixty percent of K-2nd grade curriculums in the US have elements 'aligned with' balance literacy, and subsequent mentions of the other states/districts that have used this curriculum and are now repealing it. But I didn't take that to mean that all of it was states whose *whole curriculum* was this kind of thing, to the complete exclusion of phonics? (More relevant is that I discovered the OP of the original post was going around rather aggressively correcting anyone who didn't take that to mean this and I really didn't want to get in a fight lol.)

This quote from the curriculum's developers implies they do push for the exclusion of phonics -- “Every minute you spend teaching phonics (or preparing phonics materials to use in your lessons) is less time spent teaching other things" -- and through the individual student feature in the article, it's clear that is happening in NYC. But it doesn't establish that 'nearly all kids' were being taught this way to the complete exclusion of phonics. There are plenty of USians in the right age range who demonstrably had phonics-based instruction in the classroom, and certainly at work we have a lot of third-party phonics instructional material that was published in the last twenty years and widely disseminated in schools. tl;dr that teaching method is atrocious but we can't actually take that article to mean literally every Gen Zer wasn't taught phonics.

I don't know what larger point I'm trying to make here lol I think it might actually be '...so it doesn't somehow let people off the hook for if their reading comprehension has remained atrocious as an adult'

[mercurymusing]

I've got an aunt that we don't talk to any more. She's a school librarian.

At one point as a kid we went to visit that side of the family. I was in elementary school toting around Eragon by then.

She threw an absolute fit at the idea of me reading something so age inappropriate and dumped a bunch of "better educational" materials on us.

I have a very clear memory of opening up one of these early reader type books and feeling like an absolute idiot because I had no idea what all of the lines and diacritics were supposed to mean. I knew almost all of the actual words they were defacing and could gamely sound out the unfamiliar ones by ignoring the extra bits, but she took this as a sign that she was right about how badly I'd damaged my literacy development.

Like. I mispronounced shit like "cylinder" because English orthography is bullshit, not because I couldn't do phonics. The fact that I could get to "kie-lind-er" and give a more or less accurate description of the meaning should have been all the indication you needed, you harpy.

Anyway. These days I mostly hear about her from incidental gossip about her idiot son that got discharged after falling out of a watchtower at boot camp, but I nurse a quiet certainty that she's not one of the school librarians desperately fighting book bans.

One of the funniest/dumbest literal thinking autism moments of my childhood happened when I was in 2nd grade. I was going to a new school so I was made to do a bunch of assessments to see where I placed in different subjects. I was most excited for the reading one cuz at my old school I was the best reader in my class, and I wanted to show off.

The lady testing me hands me this little short story and asks me to read it aloud.

And for some reason that I still don't understand to this day, a bunch of the words randomly had like lines or dots above the vowels. Which idk seems like an unnecessary and confusing thing to include when testing a 7 year old. Like you're gaslighting them into thinking theres extra letters in the alphabet. So obvi I ask what the symbols mean cuz I've never seen them in this context. She sorta brushes me off and says, word for word, "those mean you just say the letters name"

What she undoubtedly meant was: "on those words, the letter highlighted will sound like what its called. O with the line sounds O and not uh or ew or whatever"

What I understood was "Just Say the Letters Name"

So anyways i proceeded to read the story aloud, stopping suddenly every other word to pause cuz I wasnt supposed to say bow i was supposed to say o. I know for a fact at one point I just said a word and then stopped and repeated the sentence with just the letter so she HAD to've known I'd misunderstood her. But she said absolutely nothing. I remember walking outta there feeling like a complete idiot, and feeling so embarrassed when later they told my mom my reading skills were an entire grade behind where I should've been. But also looking back at it like wtf how could theyve possibly gotten an accurate understanding of my reading ability under those conditions.

[penkraft123]

Abacus : Calculation at your fingertips

The term ‘Abacus’ has been derived from the Greek word, ‘ABAX’ which means counting table. It was invented by Tim Cranmer. The discovery of this tool has proven to be a boon for those who struggle with number crunching. Many of us, including me feel quite nervous or lack confidence when doing simple & basic Math calculations like, 8+6 or for that matter, simple multiplications. When you are not able to ace a particular task, doesn’t mean that you are weak at it, you just need to put in more effort.

I remember, on very first day of school & college during the Math lecture, the very first question that our subject teacher used to ask was, “How many of you are SCARED of Math” and almost 60% of the class had their hands raised up. When we are scared of something we find an excuse to run out of the problem, because we are not sure about the outcome. The same theory goes for Math, it seems that the subject conveys a powerful message like, you can love me, you can hate me but you can’t ignore me, true that! In every career choice, at some point you will be asked for application of math, you can’t run away from it, just find a way to deal with it. Make learning fun by using Abacus for it.

Abacus helps you to solve basic and complicated math at your fingertips. The Abacus tool has beads & a rod, it represents the units’, Tens, Hundred’s. It makes a process easier, and once you get the hold of that tool and with thorough practices, you can even do mental calculation, making the calculation process lot faster. The Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication & Division at your fingertips plus fun guaranteed. Be clear with basics and Abacus will definitely help you to overcome the fear of Math as a subject and will boost your self-confidence.

Benefit of using Abacus tool:

1. It helps you to get command on Math:

Math is not a subject, where you can just learn the formula and boom you become a professional, it takes time and rigorous practice because different sums require different application. Abacus teaches you techniques which can be universally applied thereby giving you an upper hand to have command at it.

2. Increases the retention power & improves concentration:

At the very beginning of Abacus class, you are asked to solve some exercises which includes, using both your hands to write number, several images are to memorized. When you constantly work on these things, you generate a photographic memory which helps in improving concentration and memorize images.

3. Boosts Self-Confidence:

Abacus system has a global approval because of which there are various competitions which are conducted at State level, National level & international level. When you enroll for the Abacus class, you are being trained to participate in such competitions. It offers you a platform to showcase your skills, thereby boosting your confidence.

4. It improves speed and accuracy:

When you visually solve a math problem, automatically your speed increases, and with the right amount of practice, you deliver the accurate results. As mentioned earlier, there are various exams which are conducted, the purpose of the exam is to test your speed and accuracy, you are asked to solve a certain set of sums within a stipulated time period and Abacus helps you to optimize your time in solving those questions.

5. Enhances your listening skills:

Mental calculations are the part of Abacus training, students need to pay a closer attention to the numbers & on the mathematical expression which teacher dictates. It further enhances the listening ability.

Penkraft conducts classes, course, online courses, live courses, workshops, teachers’ training & online teachers’ training in Handwriting Improvement, Calligraphy, Abacus Maths, Vedic Maths, Phonics and various Craft & Artforms — Madhubani, Mandala, Warli, Gond, Lippan Art, Kalighat, Kalamkari, Pichwai, Cheriyal, Kerala Mural, Pattachitra, Tanjore Painting, One Stroke Painting, Decoupage, Image Transfer, Resin Art, Fluid Art, Alcohol Ink Art, Pop Art, Knife Painting, Scandinavian Art, Water Colors, Coffee Painting, Pencil Shading, Resin Art Advanced etc. at pan-India locations. With our mission to inspire, educate, empower & uplift people through our endeavours, we have trained & operationally supported (and continue to support) 1500+ home-makers to become Penkraft Certified Teachers? in various disciplines.

[hunxi-after-hours]

hello friends, no particular reason, just thought I’d share one of my recent sources of joy (and learning)

this is a... fancy edition? of the 《声音启蒙》 Sheng Yin Qi Meng / The Children’s Primer of Sound 《声律启蒙》 Sheng Lv Qi Meng which is basically a handbook of parallelism in poetry written by Qing Dynasty scholar 车万育 Che Wanyu. this version has paintings by contemporary artist 吴冠中 Wu Guanzhong interspersed with the individual entries, like so:

it’s even got annotations for the references!

the entries aren’t exactly poems so much as they are building blocks of poetry hyperconcentrated and laid out in a way that emphasizes their literary function. the book focuses on parallelism (as opposed to, say, form or tonal rhyme), though the structure of each entry is very poem-like in nature.

the prevalence and significance of parallelism in classical poetry (particularly in 格律诗 ge lv shi / regulated verse, but also in many other forms) is one that can be rather difficult to render in translation because parallelism leans heavily on the exact number of characters used and their position in a line, whereas translation often has to rearrange, interpolate, and generally massage the words/the line/the entire poem to play nice with another language’s grammar in order to convey the basics of meaning alone, much less poetic or literary structure.

I’ve previously broken down a couplet of 杜甫 Du Fu’s 《登高》 Deng Gao / “Climbing High” in this post, taking a stab at trying to communicate the absolutely mind-boggling literary acrobatics of parallelism involved:

无边落木萧萧下 / borderless, falling leaves go whispering and rustling down

不尽长江滚滚来 / endless, the Yangtze comes roiling and boiling by

Which, broken down into individual characters, becomes:

无 - 边 - 落 - 木 - 萧 - 萧 - 下

without - edge - fall(ing) - leaf - whisper - whisper - down

不 - 尽 - 长 - 江 - 滚 - 滚 - 来

no - end - long - river - tumble - tumble - come

Going further, you can (and I did, in that post) break those lines down into parts of speech to see the perfect parallelism at play, but the shape of it already emerges here.

What the 《声律启蒙》 does, then, is compile thirty, uh, chapters (ish? sections. compilations. units) on various literary parallels for perusal and inspiration and education (this was, after all, written for the edification of children ahahaha), spanning the physical and abstract, philosophical and historical, literary and descriptive. for example, here is the very first installment:

一东 / One — East

note: chapter/section names are not based on content, but rather on the primary tonal rhyme/vowel sound featured (in this case, 东 / dong1 “east”)

云对雨，/ Clouds to rain,

雪对风，/ Snow to wind

晚照对晴空。/ Evening glow to cloudless skies

来鸿对去燕，/ Coming swan-geese to departing swallows,

宿鸟对鸣虫。/ Roosting birds to chirping bugs

���尺剑，六钧弓，/ Three foot sword, six pound bow [1]

岭北对江东。/ Lingbei to Jiangdong [2]

人间清暑殿，天上广寒宫。/ The human realm’s Clear Summer Hall, Heaven’s Vast Winter Palace

两岸晓烟杨柳绿，一园春雨杏花红。/ Two banks, morning smoke, poplars and willows green; one graden, spring rain, apricot flowers red

两鬓风霜，途次早行之客；一蓑烟雨，溪边晚钓之翁。/ Both temples, wind and frost — en route, the morning traveller; / a rain-cape, smoke and rain — beside the creek, the late-fishing fisherman [2]

[1] Both the “three foot sword” and the “six pound bow” are specific historical references, to 刘邦 Liu Bang and 颜高 Yan Gao respectively.

[2] The very names of these two geographic regions parallel each other: 岭北 Lingbei is literally “north of the ridge” while 江东 Jiang Dong is literally “east of the river.”

this post doesn’t particularly have a point besides the fact that I find these tremendously interesting to read — they sound like poetry but they’re not exactly poetry, but sometimes the lovely phonics and the juxtaposition creates arresting imagery anyway, tantalizing in how little meaning it delivers (江风对海雾，牧子对渔翁). In a way, it feels like a challenge to the reader to draw meaning out of nothing more than juxtaposition and rhyme, which is, truthfully, Very Silly of me because it’s a little like trying to read Deep Meaning out of entries in a rhyming dictionary or something. Anyway I’m like, trying to get better at this language or something

oh! and the art is tremendously beautiful:

ETA: hello friends I continue to lack any brain cells, the book is actually called 《声律启蒙》 / Sheng Lv Qi Meng (which might make it something closer to “The Children’s Primer of Rhythm”), legitimately unsure how I managed to spell it wrong when I had it on my desk beside me but there we have it

[hollers-and-holmes]

Guys this isn’t my usual sort of thing but it’s been a gradual sort of understanding that it is not unlawful to write about one’s sorrow and that maybe sometimes it’s even okay to let someone else see it.

Wildfire in Her Last Five Weeks

She has thrashed out a hollow in the wheatgrass.

A hollow like the hollow around a cow’s carcass pounded down

by coyote tracks and wireclaws of ravens and

the parhelion dust halo

that shawls an unsown corpse.

She is not a carcass yet. But nearing it.

Her germinating bones strain up for the light.

She flails her hairskinned head against the ground.

My daughter (nine) has never seen a dying horse

but needs no one to tell her to fling her sapling weight across a sorrel-painted neck

and try to pin it there.

Watch your feet. I am going to get water. Get out of her way if she tries to stand up. Babe, will you be home soon? I am out at the end of the alfalfa field with four babies and our good mare who has lost so much weight in a week I cannot stand to look straight at her. She cannot get up. It is starting to rain. I cannot get her up.

You’re like a pioneer! they tell me.

What this means is that I lie beside the dying thing alone.

I tell the babies to look the other way.

A week.

Flunixin gouged up past her teeth and jetted onto her tongue does not stop her febrile trembling quickly enough.

I have to go, he says

We’re weaning heifers at the feedyards

Maybe try to vein her, I don’t know.

If you put it in an artery you’ll kill her.

I love you. I’m sorry. You’ll have to figure it out.

I get the babies started on their phonics and

pull up a YouTube video on my phone.

Occlude the vein

See how it bulges?

The middle third of the neck is where the artery is deepest.

Roll the bevel away from yourself.

Getting through the skin is where it hurts so

do it fast.

There are entire channels video after video of satisfying haircuts cake decorating slime smooth textures Japanese chefs cleaving perfect watermelon bowls that man who makes dragons and dishwashers out of chocolate here is someone freehanding a perfect straight line with a stylus ingrown hair removal ASMR and none of them as breathtaking as a flash of blood wrung dark of oxygen that blossoms into the barrel of a ten-cc syringe drawn up to the seven with clear delaying banamine.

She starts to have a few good days. Is she getting better? Hard to tell. She drags the stifled leg still. Her strip-face filly tries to suck. Must be getting something, or her money-colored hair would roughen and her belly swell with air.

Sometimes the paint mare lies down and can’t rise and so she wears a cracked and adipose-deep

ulcer over every nailsharp point of jaw and hock and pelvis

boring down against the ground.

We have to throw a halter rope around her feet and heave her over the ridge

of her thin-coated spinous processes

so she can get her sound leg underneath her

and ratchet herself standing

one more time.

He says, I probably ought to shoot her. She’s not getting better. It’s fixing to get cold and then what? We have to be realistic about this. It’s hard to watch her suffer.

I get belligerent and rally to the standard. More NSAID, more sixty-dollar supplemented showhorse grain we can’t afford, more vitamin B injections (it leaks in rusty runnels down her fatless neck because intramuscular only works when the muscle is not atrophied to ribbons).

I flew to see my dad in March when he woke smothered soundless by

whatever Adam-remnant we knew already had assailed

into his lungs and kidneys.

Lesions on the frontal lobe. They had not yet occluded shut his verbal pathways.

And in all these things Job did not sin with his mouth.

I sat beside him on the white-columned Everglade porch. The skin of his throat had stretched out baggy and unshaven since Christmas when sixty pounds of his big lanky body lain down for us joyful and ungrumbling and unwithheld for thirty-some sweet gentle-humored years had not yet dripped away into the coyote-waste.

He says he wants to grow it out, my mother said.

The shape inside was still the same.

It formed that same old rumbling laugh when I read to him a paragraph of

Ruth Stout being snarky about newfangled gardening practices.

Two nights later it was his turn to read to me, before he crept to bed in a Tampa Bay hotel room.

In the morning I would wing back to the wind-gaunted wheat prairies and he

would ride a rented wheelchair

up a cement ramp once more into the

breach of beveled needles and wafer skin spanned

too thin across acromion bones.

Tried believer, thy Lord hath a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of scared grief are put away, and a book in which thy holy groanings are numbered. By and by, thy holy suit shall prevail. Canst thou not be content to wait a little? Will not the Lord’s time be better than thy time?

Every magpie doesn’t have a coyote but every coyote has a magpie.

I know the morning the zinnias freeze to rustles what the tailbirds tattering out over the corral-fence have come to tell me.

I cannot find a vein this time. The anatomy is different when a horse is lying down. I keep having to leap aside when she rears high hindquarter-beached and thunder-hearted and fracks her sixty-pound head against the frozen ground.

The dormant alarms on my phone are still labeled for morphine and Haldol on rotation every two hours and have been for a year.

There is no hair left on the right side of her face.

Merciful Father, deliver us quickly from this.

Death is like childbirth, labor upon narrowing necessary labor. Good job, I said to him, my cheek on the same pillow, you are doing good work. Not long now. It’s been a lot of work. It’s okay to be done. You are doing good work.

I printed it and pinned it on the wall above the hospice bed:

Defeated, outmaneuvered fool! Did you mark how naturally—as if he had been born for it—the earthborn vermin entered the new life? All his doubts became, in the twinkling of an eye, ridiculous…

[capsicrew]

Okay, half of them had a process and the others were just off the cuff--

Jalliim-- So I came up with this when I was just downloading the up-to-level-30 free trail way back, so I had no context for lore or names. When making an Elezen, I saw most of the suggested names were, like, faux French-sounding names, and I thought something along the lines of placing him more geographically south of that, and since Spain was south of France, I thought I’d come-up with something fake-Spanish-esque. And what says that than J having an “h” sound right (like a jalapeno pepper--which inspired the shared last name)? lmao, from there I just kinda filled out the name based on how I felt in that theme, but not based on anything in particular. If it wasn’t clear before, his name is pronounced “ha-leem.”

Capsisi-- Originally, Capsisi wasn’t gonna be, like, a “main character,” so I didn’t put a whole lot of effort in the name. I wanted to keep the same last name Jalliim had as sort of a joke, but still fit in the naming conventions of a female plainsfolk lalafell. The last name doesn’t quite fit the naming scheme, with its extra syllable, but that’s fine.

Kola-- This one was kinda off the cuff. I was struggling to think of a name--and I fell back on a tactic I often employ when struggling to think of a nickname for, like, Pokemon or something similar--food names. Keeper Miqo’te have short names, so I wanted to keep it to 1-2 syllables and I like soda, so here we are. I switched it from a C to a K because... well I don’t remember if I had a good reason lol

Beutiq-- I actually tried to put in some effort into this one. I did some (admittedly not terribly deep) looking into both Mongolian names and words to craft a name for the boy. I tried just now to do the same digging because... I actually don’t remember the names/words I used to create Beutiq’s name ;; I do remember selecting two which I pushed together as a name, then altered the spelling due to the in-universe leaning on phonic spellings in this case, rather than a strict writing guide among Xaela tribes. I do remember looking into words and name meanings that leaned into my expectations for Beutiq as a character (or a parent for their child lol), and leaned into meanings for creating, beauty and strength. It was a complete accident that it also looks/sounds like the word “boutique,” which I’m going to say was an accident in-universe as well--so it’s always amusing when Tataru talks about her boutique to Beutiq. “Bow-tick,’ btw

Ejvi-- I started creating Ejvi after Veira were announced to be added to the game, but also started to name her before we had official naming convention guidelines. Fortunately, she wasn’t born in the Veira homeland, so it didn’t super matter. We already had a good guess that Veira names would likely continue to take Scandinavian cues for inspiration. So while perusing a variety of names for inspiration, I also half-joked to myself that, like Jalliim’s inspiration, they also use a different sound for J than exists in English, and I should lean into it. As Ejvi developed more as a character in my head, I also decided to try and lean into a nature-inspired name. Eventually I decided on Ivy, and bumped it into Ejvi. It was keeping in that theme that her Chocobo is named Kudju (kudzu).

And they also all share the surname of Capsicum. As I mentioned, this is literally named after the pepper plant. Jalliim Capsicum is almost just “jalapeno pepper” lmao, and then I just kept attaching the name to all of them. While I don’t have an in-universe explanation for why they all have the same name other than just “extremely wild coincidence” (nor, I think, will I come up with one), it did at least inform part of a couple of their backstories/histories--such as what Capsisi’s parents are like to just slightly askew naming tradition, and why Beatiq’s tribe is not one of the “official 51 tribes” (lore here allows for more tribe names than those 51, so I’m not too off the mark), and thus developing a whole family history there.

As an bonus, a quick look at the chosen names for their retainers; F’lossi Tia is literally named after candy floss, and thus why I tend to dress him in soft pink. Shambo Ro is literally named after the Roshambo mini game in Paper Mario: Color Splash--which itself is named after a false story on an alternate name for Rock-Paper-Scissors. Infinite Stars was me getting poetic in a space-themed Hellsguard name and Laikmund Widalds was, like Ejvi, me picking a real world-thematic name I liked before actual Hrothgar naming conventions were released.

WoL QotD: What made you choose your WoL's name? Does it have any important meaning or did it just sound nice?

Follow up: Is it lore accurate? If it isn't, why not?

[touretteculture]

i can't tell if im ticcing or just doing weird things :( tips on figuring out the difference?

What do you mean by ''weird things''?

I'll tell you the definition of tic:

''A tic is a sudden, repetitive, nonrhythmic motor movement or vocalization involving discrete muscle groups. Tics can be invisible to the observer, such as abdominal tensing or toe crunching. Common motor and phonic tics are, respectively, eye blinking and throat clearing''

That's the Wikipedia definition.

For some of us, you can feel a uncomfortable sensation before the tic and that can be relieved after doing the tic, called ''premonitory urge'', some of us do not feel that, for some of us, it can be completely involuntary, some of us have compulsions (repetitive behaviors that a person with OCD feels the urge to do in response to an obsessive thought), if someone knows more about TOCD (Tourettic OCD), please comment on this!

Maybe it's stimming, it can look like that, (for example, self-harm stims and self-harm tics) For that, I have this post right here, [LINK]

So I would need to know what are your ''weird things''!

[fuckingthefictional]

Runaway Lovers

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, suggestions regarding to sex, crap writing?

Requested: yes, part two requested by @hamdehlesmis

A/N: for the part where Finn writes a letter, I’ve made it so the writing is more phonics based. Because I find it unrealistic to have a character who is illiterate to suddenly start reading and writing with the knowledge of perfect grammar and spelling.

Alfie Solomons was a name that struck cold fear into some on the toughest of men.

His cool and calculating gaze was enough to send uneasy chills up anyone’s spine.

He was a man who had red on his ledger and the mighty hand of God on his side.

To most he was a cold and calculating gang leader- with the proclivity of making violent, rash decisions that mainly benefited himself and anyone lucky enough to be considered a friend.

And most were not lucky enough to have that benefit.

Y/N Y/L/N was lucky to be considered a friend- more accurately she was a close relative of the Jewish gang leader.

Alfie’s Mother, was the sister of Y/N’s mother. The two women were close, but drifted apart after they were married to their respective husbands. Only to reunite during the Great War.

That was the first time Y/N had been in proper contact with her mothers side of the family- and thank God she continued to stay in contact with them.

Otherwise her and Finn would’ve been rendered homeless and well and truly fucked.

Y/N forced herself to drag her thoughts away from what would have been, and instead focused on the passing green pasteurs that sped past the train cars window.

The lack of pollution was obvious and made a huge difference. She was able to see the colours of the night sky, along with the scattered stars- such things that felt as if they didn’t exist in Small Heath.

Y/N felt a soft kiss on a stray patch of bare skin below her ear and at the top of her jawline. Finn.

“Stop stressing love, we’ll be okay.”

It was like he had read her mind, “‘m not stressing.” She mumbled into her palm.

“If you aren’t stressing then how come your leg is bouncing?” Finn chuckled as he pressed another kiss to her temple.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he would pick up on the finer details, it was just another reason why she loved him.

It wasn’t long before the train pulled into Camden Town Station. The whole station seemed to be rather empty- apart from one man who seemed to be waiting for the trains arrival.

He was an older gentleman, who had a scraggly beard and clutched a cane. His face was partially covered from the hat that topped his head. But on his chest, he proudly bore a necklace that held the Star of David.

It was Alfie.

He had changed a lot, the pictures that Y/N had been shown of him depicted him to be younger, lacking a beard. But the face was the same.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” The older man addressed her, a slight smirk on his face, “My god ‘ow you’ve grown- I remember when you were a bloody babe.”

She turned to Finn, a soft smile gracing her features, “Love this is Alfie, my cousin.”

Both men shook hands, each of them sizing the other up.

“Thank you for letting us stay with you.” Finn nodded at the older man, “we really appreciate it.”

“‘S nothin’ alright?” Alfie boomed loudly, “any person whose a friend of our Y/N/N is a friend of mine- now let’s get your stuff back to my ‘Ouse ‘ey?”

The two teenagers followed the older man, out of the station, their hands interlocked- ready for this next chapter of their lives.

It was difficult not knowing what their future held. And what they would face in this grey part of their lives, but Finn and Y/N knew they were lucky.

Lucky to have a place to stay, lucky to be in London. And most of all: lucky to be with each other.

-

Two months later Y/N and Finn were still as strong as ever, and the pair of them had both gotten jobs in Camden Town.

Finn working down at the docks, where he loaded Alfie’s spirits into the boats that would travel across the Atlantic.

Finn had been clear with his girlfriend’s cousin that he wanted no part in the extremely illegal parts of the business. In other words he didn’t want to be a front runner, Finn was quite happy working behind the scenes or on the sidelines. Doing the smaller less risky jobs that helped boost business.

Thankfully Alfie has agreed with him, saying, “If I got you in trouble yeah, or you got fuckin’ hurt- then my cousin would have my balls hanging up above the fuckin’ fireplace.”

Y/N however had a different job role. As she helped run the books, Y/N had her mothers brains, math was her forte and not to mention her and Alfie were close, and her older cousin kept her well protected and safe.

Their jobs weren't particularly high paid and they’d told Alfie that they didn’t want special treatment when it came to their pay- either way they made enough to pay their part on rent at Alfie’s house (which usually meant paying for the food and occasionally the hot water bill).

But neither Finn or Y/N were disappointed, they were employed and bringing in an income. That was more than they’d done in small Heath.

“Y’know, I finally feel like I’m apart of something,” Finn mumbled as he kissed down Y/N’s bare back, “I finally feel wanted by others, that aren’t You, Ada or Pol.”

“Finn,” The girl sighed as she turned over to face him, “You have no idea how much purpose you bring to other people.” Y/N stroked his hair softly, feeling the bouncy curls slip between her finger tips, “Finn because of you, Alfie is finally reconnecting with his blood relatives- he said that if this hadn’t happened, then he was willing to give up on family. And by coming away from the life you had in Small Heath you’re making Ada feel better about her role as a big sister.”

Finn was in a semi state of shock, he had no idea he had made that much of an impact, “And you?” He asked.

“God Finn,” Y/N pressed her forehead to his, “ever since you pulled me back from that drunk driver, I knew that my life was going to be flipped upside down- that I was going to fall in love.” She licked her lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you- you’re my constant, my everything, the love of my life.”

The auburn haired boy pulled his girl close to his chest, peppering sweet kisses to her hairline, “I love you pretty girl.”

“And I you, Freckles.”

“D’you think we should come clean to Alfie- about my family I mean.” Finn chewed on his lips nervously.

Y/N sighed, “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow, but for now my love we should get some sleep.”

-

Knock, knock, knock

It was one of those rare days that Alfie was working from home, Y/N had overheard his doctor telling Alfie that he needed to take it easy and rest more.

So of course Y/N forced him to stay at home. It was odd really, the pair had only reconnected a few months ago. But already it felt as if Alfie was coming into the older brother role in Y/N’s life, whereas she was the persuasive younger sister that Alfie never had growing up.

Their dynamic was one that many had never seen, there was constant teasing and banter between the two. And Y/N had been the only one to make demands from the big scary gang leader and live to tell the tale.

“Come in.” Alfie’s muffled voice came from behind the other side of the door.

As Y/N entered the office while balancing a tea tray on her arm, when she looked up she noticed her cousin sat at his desk with his specs on, Cyril layed down at his feet.

“Morning, Alf.” Y/N smiled warmly, “I’ve brought you some tea and biscuits.” She sat down opposite him, as he started across the desk accusingly.

“What do yer want aye?” Alfie squinted his eyes, “you only ever bring me stuff when yer tryna butter me up.”

“Well Is it working?” Y/N looked at her cousin as he poured himself a cup and necked down a biscuit.

“Depends that dunnit.” Alfie responded, raising his brow.

“Well I have some news,” Y/N started fidgeting with her hands, “Some news you might not take too well.”

“Fuckin’ hell- you’re not up the bloody duff are yer?”

The teenager promptly felt herself choke on her own spit, “What?” She shouted, her eyes as round as saucers, “No!” Y/N attempted to recompose herself, “Look What I was trying to get at is that Finn belongs to a family that weren’t good to him, he ran away from his old life after his brother tried to force us apart. And we talked last night about finally coming clean to you Alf, because we appreciate all you’ve done for us and we don’t feel like we’re being truthful and-“

“Y/N!” Alfie cut off her ranted speech, “I know that Finn is a Shelby.” He stated simply, “Do you really think I don’t do background checks on my workers Y/N/N?”

“And you’re okay with him?” Y/N was still in a state of shock,

“Well,” Alfie leant forwards, “ma always taught us to not judge a book by the pissin’ cover aye? Sometimes that shit also includes certain family names.” He paused, pondering what to say next, “Look I kept an eye out for the lad in the first few weeks yous stayed ‘ere, in case there was some spyin’ goin’ on. But there wasn’t, it was just a lovestruck boy who’s willin’ to do anythin’ to make ‘is girl happy. So as far as I’m concerned Y/N/N, he’s a new branch in the Solomons family.”

Y/N could feel happy tears brimming in her eyes, she finally saw what Finn meant. She felt like she mattered, like she had purpose for the first time in a very long time.

-

Two months. It had been two months since Finn had just up and left. Tommy didn't think that his youngest sibling what actually hold to his word- he didn't think that Finn of all people would actually quit the family buisness and leave small heath. 

And with all of that considered, Tommy didn't know where the fuck Finn had gone. And that was a first in Tommy’s experience- he didn't know something. 

It was incredibly frustrating and not to mention Polly was in bits since Finn had just gone missing in action. It wasn't hard to see that there was a soft spot in his aunts heart for the youngest Shelby.

He’d had men search every major city in Britain, knowing Finn couldn’t have strayed too far off the beaten path.

The youngest Shelby never was one for spontaneity, he was too much like his mother for that- he liked to have a plan set out in front of him.

But what made the situation all the more complicated was the war Tommy had made on Sabini, if Finn was in London then there was a large chance that he was in danger.

Tommy didn’t want more blood on his hands, he didn’t know if he could handle more blood on his hands.

-

Dear Pol,

This leter wil onlie be short, but its a leter non the less. All you need to no is that I am safe and happie, and hav started a new life for myself. If you want to meet, then go to Ada’s on Saterday and i will meet you there.

Lots of luv and take care,

Finn

P.S- Y/N is teeching me to reed and rite, it is a work in progres- but I am lerning!

Polly grinned at the letter in front of her, it was most definitely her nephew. Despite it being in letter form, his mannerisms and language hasn’t changed.

The older woman could feel her heart swell with pride for her youngest nephew, deep down Polly knew that the Blinder lifestyle wasn’t for him.

Finn was like Ada in that way- he followed his heart. And his heart has chosen a different path than his brothers.

Polly set the letter down on her desk as she pondered what her next course of action would be, obviously she was going to Ada’s to meet her nephew on the Saturday.

However she was met with the dilemma of how she could get it past Tommy.

One one hand, Tommy was the patriarch of the family- Polly knew that she was practically obligated to tell her older nephew her plans and whereabouts.

But on the other hand, Finn was safe. He was free from a dangerous life, he was happy and he had started a new path.

And that was more than anything Tommy could offer the lad. Polly knew that Finn valued his freedom and happiness over all the money in the world.

Pulling out a cigarette, Polly fiddled with the small stick of tobacco. After igniting it, she took a deep inhale, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs.

Every piece of her heart and soul was telling her to keep Finn safe. Maybe that was just the mother hen in Polly- but she was certain on one thing.

Thomas Shelby was going to learn to live with his actions and consequences of his words, because Polly had no intention of saying a word about Finn’s whereabouts.

Peaky blinders taglist:

@simonsbluee

[goodusernamepending]

So essentially these are two different methods of teaching children how to read.

Phonics is when you teach children what sounds different letters/letter combos make and how to use that to sound out words and sentences. It’s the older of the two.

Whole Language teaches kids to read based on context clues or something? Idk I still don’t really get it but essentially it teaches kids to guess what a word is based off of the surrounding words and sentence structure (I think, don’t quote me on that)

Just to be clear it does seem like the people who came up with whole language had genuinely good intentions and really did think that this would help children’s literacy so I don’t blame them

Nevertheless it ended up doing the opposite. Literacy is currently down in US schools and while we can blame a few things for that such as shortening attention spans caused by social media and lack of school funding, we’re at the point where we can finally see the effects of Whole Language learning and it kinda doesn’t work.

When people learn with phonics they can read sentences in order, word by word. But Whole Language means they have to kinda decode everything which is more confusing and exhausting. So literacy for people who learned with WL is lower than those who learned with phonics.

This means that the generations raised on WL are less interested in reading, less coherent writers and have less stamina with reading long form things like books. I’ve been seeing stuff trending everywhere about college professors with students who seem to be way less capable than they should be at that age, teachers talking about classes who are several grades behind where they should be, and of course lower reading comprehension and this is obviously one of the reasons.

It’s just so sad and frustrating! These are essential skills that open up so much in the world and these people are getting cheated out of that!

Apparently there’s a podcast about it called Sold a Story so I might listen to that at some point to get more informed

Just learned about the whole Phonics vs. Whole Language Approach discourse and now I’m fucking angry!

[chaoticspacefam]

Subterfugeverse Name Pronunciations

Jumping on the name pronunciation bandwagon cause I’ve seen a couple of my mutuals doing this *fingerguns* and I realised that even though I included it on the fancy bio page (yes, I’m still working on it I haven’t forgotten, I just need more screenshots/pictures and time to write out all the detailed lore schtuff) I forgot to put it on the mobile Masterpost. So I’ll be popping this link onto there now too for everyone’s perusal :’D LONG POST AHEAD

So, the only ones I ever really used specific “grammar” rules for were the tomato family (+ Aria because her name is actually rooted in High Sith), all the others are just pronounced as we would normally use the syllables in English.

I haven’t got any OCs rn who would have used Common Sith, they’re all Highborn Nobility Brats 🤣 so High Sith it is pshshsuysgd

I used the canonical information we’re given on the pronunciation of the vowels, I ignored absolutely everything else about it bc if you scroll down and read the bit at the bottom of “Behind the Scenes” it’s clear that the phonetics are a hot dumpster fire so it’s basically free real estate* *a.k.a. I used my (admittedly limited) MFL knowledge of pronunciation in Afrikaans and German to make “educated guesses” on what seemed to flow best with the vowel sounds so pls don’t come for me and be gentle, I’m trying to make them sound ✨pretty✨ while still being as lore-accurate as is possible mmmhmm

Ok good, without further ado then~

The Ahaszaai - High Sith

“Ahaszaai” itself is pronounced “ahh-zzy-aye” (with a very quick “flow” and little pause between the first and second syllables, but more stress on the final syllable, as in “buy”). Phonics-wise, I could have spelt it “Aszai” and kept the pronounciation the same per the messy “rules” given by canon, but I think “Ahaszaai” reads a lot nicer, don’t you? :D

Saarai

“szah-rye”

“S” is more of a “Z” sound in both Afrikaans and German so it made most sense to me, to say the same would be true in High Sith given the “hardness” of the vowels. It flows together better. As with her family name, the end of Rai’s name is stressed on the last syllable (as in “buy”) as well. Named both for the High Sith word, meaning “Truth”, and chosen by her father due to the similarity with her late grandmother, Saa’thri (”szah-th-ree”), as a way to honour her memory.

Ni’kasi

“nee-kah-zhee” ETA: after some time and a lot of research, I’ve discovered that Kas’s name  DOES in fact have a meaning in High Sith, it means “Divine Warpath” (yeah, D’leah went hard with her kids’ names sjkgdjkgd). Again, as is true with a lot of Sith words, all long vowel sounds here. Ni’kasi’s name tends to sound a lot more “elegant” than her twin’s, as the  “s” in her name is softened by the surrounding vowel sounds, whereas Saarai’s is a lot harder as it preceeds the vowels ;)

Kissai 

“kee-sz-igh” Named after the Priest caste of old (by the same name), for his more serene personality. This is somewhat ironic, as topping out at near 7 feet tall it’s almost certain that he had Massassi (Warrior caste) blood in his line and was unlikely to have been related to any Kissai-caste Sith at all.

D’leahane | D’leah*

*whose name breaks nearly every “rule” but she’s the token red herring don’t mind her lmaooo

“Duh-leh-nuh”, the second “a” in her name being a silent letter that isn’t enunciated with the others | “Duh-leh”

Abaron

“ah-bah-ron”

Not much to add about this one! Basically what it says on the tin!

Tyûk

“tee-uck”

From the High Sith word meaning “Strength”, Saarai wanted to give him a “strong” name in the hopes that it might bring him better fortunes in his life. For so long, part of me wanted to break the “rules” here and pronounce it as “tee-yook” because it would have sounded equally plausible, but if I’m gonna treat the other circumflexed letters as short vowels like they’re supposed to be then the same thing has to apply to Ty’s name. 🤣

Shakkai | Sha

“zzh-haah-kye”  | Zs-hah

Same as her sisters, “s” makes a “z” sound, for her “full” name the vowel sound is quite drawn out, but for the shortened/nickname version both the beginning syllable and the vowel sound are shorter and less stressed.

Her name doesn’t have a particular meaning, I just liked the way it sounded. There’s a word on the known vocab list (without a translation), “Shokkai”, I typo’d an “a” instead of an “o” - I already have a “Sho”, so I’d decided her nickname would be “Sha” instead so I wouldn’t get confused - when I did her first Character Sheet but actually liked how it sounded so I kept it hahaha

*fun fact, I nearly named her Shâsot which means “passion” but it just didn’t sound “right” as a name, so I went with Shakkai instead.

Paalea Izreni | Paa

“Paah-lee-uh ees-ren-ee” | “Paa” is literally just like the first syllable of her full name

Just like “s” makes a “z” sound, “z” makes an “s” sound. She gets to go here because she’s Kissai’s half-sister and therefore through marriage is part of the Ahaszaai family, even if she still uses their family’s “maiden” name and not the Ahaszaai name herself.

Again, it doesn’t mean anything in particular, it just sounded pretty *shrugs*

Non-Ahaszaai High Sith Names

Other characters who were named with the High Sith language, though they don’t belong to the Ahaszaai bloodline.

Aria

“Ah-ree-ah”, all long vowel sounds for her, no short “uh” ‘s here, vowel sounds in Sith are loooonggg (unless you’re D’leah because she said “fuck you Elven this is my name we’re keeping it” XD) , which means absolutely no “arrie-uh” either, please, you’ll upset her.

“But Elven “arrie-uh” is a real name and that’s how we would pronounce it!” Well, yes, except that Aria’s father actually named her for the High Sith word “Ari” (ah-ree), which means “Lord”, and not our version of the name and therefore, she uses the “Sith pronunciation” :’D

Chwûq

“Chuh-wuck” One of Aria’s Tuk’ata, named by her father Roan when he earned their trust, Chwûq’s name means “Embers” and was chosen for the glowing appearance of her eyes. All short, quite heavily stressed syllables for her name.

Taral

“tah-raah-ll” Aria’s second Tuk’ata and Chwûq’s mate. From the High Sith word meaning “He who protects”, for his loyalty to his mate, Roan and Aria.

Kahri

“Kh-haah-ree” Ni’kasi’s pet miniature sleen, named for the High Sith word meaning “Fang” (yes, she gave her lizard the lame typical “dog” name, but it sounds so much cooler in High Sith! 😂). The first syllable is heavily stressed, as if with a catch in your throat.

Naalush Zuzuul | Alu

“naah-loosh soo-zool”, as with Aria, the first syllable of his nickname is drawn out, like “ahh-loo”, not a single-syllable, “alloo” as it would be in English.

Tsâhis Zuzuul

“saah-hees soo-zool”

Pretty standard pronunciations, neither of their names mean anything, I just put together some Sith phonics and they came out pretty neato! ^^ Using the same logic from the “s” sound, I’m assuming “z” and “ts” can both function as a phonetic “ss”, the second “z” in their last name is a little more stressed and closer to an English “z” - it just sounds less weird that way ok guys? Good. ^^

Others - Elven Is Too Lazy to Separate The Rest By Species

Vano Shenly | Va

“Vah-noh shen-lee” | “Vaah” (in her full name the syllable is quite short, but for the shortened version that Aria, Merak and Vette use as her nickname, the “a” sound is a little more drawn out ;)

Merak Shenly

“murr-ack shen-lee”, pretty much how it’s spelt again. His and Vano’s are by far the easiest ones to not get “wrong” pfpfpf

Zi’verikreen | Ziri/Zee

“Zee-veh-ree”, “kreen” is pronounced pretty much as spelt. “Ziv’eri” is a Twi’leki word meaning “scorching”, for her fiery personality. I couldn’t find any solid fanon on Twi’leki phonetics/pronunciation (*cough* and I fell down the spiky tomato rabbithole and started to obsess over them instead*coughcough*) so I kind of used my best judgement here, other than Saarai, hers is one of my favourite names to say. It’s just so ✨pretty✨. Zee is pronounced as spelt, but Ziri is more drawn out, too, like “zee-ree”, though Ziri is far less “fussy” about pronunciation and will answer to “zir-ee” too, she doesn’t really care too much as long as you’re not cussing her out.

Roanan Saal | Roan

“roh-nahn” “s-aah-l” (short first and last syllable, long middle syllable) | “roh-ahn” (like “rowan”, but with a longer last syllable!)

Myala Thulie | Myla

“mee-ahr-luh thoo-lee” | “mee-luh”

mee, not my or mai for this lady! I have no elaborate explanation for this one, I just thought it sounded prettier this way

Qanarr Thimu | Qan

“Kwan-arr thim-oo” | “Kwan”

first “a” sound is somewhat stressed, as in “band” and “stand”, rest I think is self-explanatory. Again, no canon material on Catharese pronunciation so I did my own thing :3

That should cover all the mains I’m pretty sure?? If I’ve missed anyone give me a shout. How many did you have “correct” from what you thought, let me know in the tags or replies, I’m curious! :’DD

[dememarquette]

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear.  With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"