#tutoring cape town

[protectorcraft]

what is the schrsto au (if u can speak on it).... stares at u with my wide curious eyes

hmmmm............................ wuelll i suppose i can speak on it now that its not. 6am.

ramblin under the cut lol

schrsto au (shorthand name) takes place ehhhhh about a year or so after the defeat of the king. everyone's in post game, more or less! the four saviors (mira, odile, siffrin, and bonnie), alongside nille and amber (a cat) have been traveling vaugarde for awhile now, and return to dormont at the anniversary of The End Of The End Of The World to regroup and discuss their next plans- whether theyll continue traveling together, split up for the time being, where they should go, etc etc you get itttttt

of course, once they arrive in dormont, things are going great! foooor about. two days. then things start getting weird. the group gets oddly tense and anxious, weird things are happening around town (have been happening since they left a year ago, apparently), and now nille's friends are behaving strangely.

siffrin's been zoning out more often and for longer stretches, mira's getting paranoid, bonnie refuses to set foot in the house, and odile of all people is having fairly frequent nightmares. nille- the only one unaffected by this (besides the cat)- decides to see if she can do something to help.

in her scouring for solutions, however, she manages to accidentally dig up something that should probably have been left buried. things proceed to spiral out of control from there.

extra little notes: - bonnie is almost always wearing the cape. they like it because its cozy and it makes them look like frin and belle! - siffrin's a bit more distant after they beat the king. it's not a severe change in behavior, but it's notable. he seems to be more nightmare and hallucination prone, and will sometimes zone out for short periods. It's Probably Fine. - amber was a stray they found upon revisiting jouvente. her collar led to a locked, empty apartment and the group came to the conclusion that her owner abandoned her while trying to flee the curse. bonnie proceeded to beg their sister and odile to let them keep her. - when it didnt work initially, mirabelle and siffrin chipped in their thoughts. and by chipping in their thoughts i mean siffrin bombarded them with nonstop cat puns until they gave. - nille and siffrin get along like a house on fucking fire. it's deeply concerning for everyone else. theyre banned from going on adventures alone together. they do it anyways. - mirabelle's just started to properly unpack her situation with attraction, with the help of siffrin of course. it's been going far slower, but growth is a process ya know? - odile had read the familytale she borrowed front to back 3 times by the time they left dormont initially. it's been returned, but now shes on the hunt for a new one. - nille had a crush on mirabelle for awhile, which petered out after mira came out to the group. now she has one on odile. shes being so normal about it. - the group has been tutoring bonnie collectively so they dont miss out on their education. which is to say its mostly odile tutoring them and the others being wildly unhelpful. - nille and bonnie are amber's favorites. siffrin is her least favorite. (lmao)

[mybeingthere]

Albert Adams (1929–2006, South African)

"Born in Johannesburg in 1929, and raised mostly in Cape Town, Adams was 21 years old when South Africa's 'Population Registration Act' was enacted in 1950, establishing the system of strict racialised white-supremacist apartheid that formally categorised the country's population into African, Indian, 'white' and 'coloured' peoples.

Adams' own mixed African ('Cape Coloured') and Indian heritage placed him askance of those unrealistic demarcations and he was actively excluded from accessing the formal art education he sought at home. Later in his life, he would find comfort and identification in his Indian heritage, visiting India and finding strong kinship with the place and its people.

A university scholarship brought Adams to the Slade School of Art in London in 1953, where he remained a student until 1956. The Slade of the 1950s, and London's broader art milieu, made for a distinctive confluence of factors and approaches that would either inspire or repel Adams' work in various directions.

It was the era of the Euston Road School and the London School of painters: Lucian Freud was a tutor at Slade in Adams' time, and several other tutors were influential painters who had once been students themselves, including Claude Rogers. Adams' counted Paula Rego and Euan Uglow among his class peers. Adams was a gay man, and London's sophisticated gay subculture, closely related as it was to the art scene, may also have played a part in his life in the new city."

From the Symposium in the Salford University - Greg Thorpe, writer, curator. https://artuk.org/.../from-south-africa-to-the-slade...

[blaiddfailcam]

Okay fine here are some "brief" headcanons about Blaidd and his upbringing among the Carians. Totally not telling on myself how much I overthink these games but:

As far as "headcanons" go, these are more so my rationalizations of Blaidd's relationships, and why he's so uninformed regarding his nature as a bringer of bale. I do feel the game offers some complex emotional drama that's fun to dissect. In essence, this is how the chronology of their dynamics "make sense" to me.

I'm not one for entirely cozy-cute interpretations, nor anything too edgy, but the latter story ruminations might paint the characters as somewhat cold and melancholy. To me, there is a good deal of sadness behind Blaidd's hardened persona, which always had me wondering how lonely he must have felt, searching for insurmountable years for an elusive key to unlocking Ranni's dream and his own demise.

But I'll start with the nicer stuff, lol.

Childhood

Blaidd wasn't "born," but created by the Two Fingers from Ranni's violet left eye to be her animus—not unlike Eve from Adam's rib.

Upon creation, he appeared as a wolf-headed human child with grayish skin and scant fur, with pink palms and soles. He was repulsive to the Carian servants, reminiscent of a demi-human.

In-game, Blaidd never blinks. As such, I like to think he literally never closes his eyes, nor does he rest.

Ranni was quickly drawn to him. Her first word upon seeing his lupine head was, "Blaidd!"—Wolf. Thus, the name stuck: Blaidd the Half-Wolf.

Rennala was not immediately approving of him, as she appreciated the danger he posed to her Empyrean daughter. As such, he was kept separate from her and raised under Iji's watchful eye in Kingsrealm.

Ranni would regularly secret herself out of the manor to play with her new friend by the cover of night. When Iji discovered this, he gently allowed them to continue. To him, they were almost as his adoptive children, or so he dared to pretend.

Blaidd was tutored in combat, assisted Iji with his smithing, and partook in hunting and fishing on behalf of the gate town. Naturally, this latter activity was his preferred pastime, which culminated in his talent for tracking traitors to the royal family.

Neither Radagon, Radahn, nor Rykard ever met Blaidd. To him, the Carian males were as distant as the stars.

Knighthood

Blaidd was trained in mock combat by Loretta. Loretta criticized his ineptitude for sorcery, fostering a mutual resentment when he soundly defeated her with his brutish strength.

Understanding Blaidd's unwitting role as Ranni's shadow, Iji was unnerved by his speed and aggression with ordinary weaponry. As such, he fashioned a colossal sword not unlike the trolls' royal greatswords to serve as a suitable weapon, as well as an inhibitor in the tragic event he ever turned on Ranni.

Blaidd's earliest armor was somewhat lowly, not so dissimilar from the Bloodhound knights', sans a cape.

Seluvis attempted to tutor Blaidd in the ways of Carian sorcery, but Blaidd had neither patience nor interest. Instead, he preferred to play childish pranks. Feeling sympathetic for the caged cuckoo birds, Blaidd once released a number of them, and Seluvis was convinced he had devoured them. From then on, he rejected him as his pupil.

Her distrust of the Two Fingers mounting into adulthood, Ranni became detached from Blaidd, to his distress.

One day, she disappeared. Blaidd tracked her to the frigid north alone, fashioning his makeshift cape from the hide of a greatwolf. When he found her, she was half-frozen. Enveloping her in his cape, he carried her to shelter.

When she came to, she apologized—but even still, she achingly refused to reveal her intentions. She was terrified of how her treachery would hurt Blaidd, but her resolve was as iron.

After their return, Rennala spoke to Blaidd in private. To his surprise, she apologized to him for her distrust. She declared that he and Ranni must become close as kin, inducting him officially into the Carian royal family as Ranni's honorary stepbrother.

As such, Rennala commissioned Iji to fashion a proper suit of armor for Blaidd, and a sword befitting a Carian knight, inlaid with many-colored glintstones.

The Dire Plot

After Radagon's departure and Rennala's descent into madness, Ranni maintained the Carian estate with Blaidd as her dutiful knight, defending from the battle-ready Cuckoo.

Blaidd was not included in Ranni and Rykard's plot to steal the Rune of Death, nor the Night of the Black Knives. Seeing as this trespass would fly in the face of the Greater Will, Ranni was careful to distance herself from him, should he enact his role as her executioner.

When the time came, Ranni diverted Blaidd to Raya Lucaria using Seluvis as a diversion. Unaware of her plot, he swiftly made his way to the academy, but upon arrival was swiftly imprisoned. (Ya know, sealing spells and all that.)

Breaking free the next morning, Blaidd stormed back to Caria Manor. But in Ranni's place, he found only a doll—until she spoke, and a chill ran down his spine. She confessed to her treacherous crime, expressing her utmost determination to rid herself of her curse.

Although he was shaken, Blaidd swore an oath that her secret would remain kept, and that he would serve no master but her. From then on, he dutifully commenced his age-long search for the Eternal City of Nokron.

The Shattering

In his distance from Ranni, Blaidd became himself more cold and skeptical. He observed the Shattering Wars from a distance, indifferent to the bloody corpse mounds littering eastern Liurnia, and unperturbed by the blight of Deathroot that plagued the Lands Between following Ranni's plot.

During a skirmish en route to Caelid, Blaidd ambushed Malenia, not with the intention of killing or impeding her, but out of curiosity as to her resemblance to Ranni's Empyrean flesh. He challenged the valkyrie, but in a single precise motion, she pierced his chest below his sword arm—a lethal blow to most, but only enough to temporarily subdue a shadow.

Afterward, he never involved himself in the war beyond protecting the manor.

Until present

Ever since Ranni's betrayal, Blaidd would irregularly drift into unconsciousness. Unbeknownst to him, these fainting spells marked the conjuring of Baleful Shadows, fashioned in his image.

For as desperate he was to fulfill Ranni's ambition, Blaidd was consistently delayed by an insidious traitor. Old Iji, still greatly attached to his dear children despite their unraveling tale, dangled fabricated allegations with which to occupy the merciless hunter.

Even so, his good nature remained relatively intact, only teased by a select few friends met in his encounters. One such character, of course, was Kalé. When Seluvis discovered someone had made off with the eyepiece of his priceless telescope, Blaidd began a lethargic hunt for the culprit. Discovering Kalé south of Stormveil, he questioned the telescope he spied in the merchant's possession. Kalé insisted it was sold to him in his travels. Blaidd fully believed him, but gave up the search out of boredom.

Blaidd fosters a respect for wildlife. He is, after all, reviled by most for his half-wolven visage. Perhaps he feels some penitence for his zealous hunting in his youth, or maybe it's born of defiance for Seluvis's vulgar accusations in the disappearance of his cuckoos.

Blaidd totally witnessed Kenneth Haight getting his shit rocked at Fort Haight and did nothing. He found it funny.

◇◇◇

In general, I think Ranni and Blaidd do care for each other deeply, but I find it interesting how Ranni manages to distance herself from her emotions in retaliation against the Two Fingers. Blaidd was conceived to suppress her through their mutual admiration. Aknowledging such, Ranni takes on a distant air in equal parts for their protection from each other, and in full understanding that her treachery would inevitably destroy him.

To be clear, I'm not saying Ranni is a bad character. I think it's awesome to have such a determined character who actually makes you question the morality of her revolt. Do her means truly justify the end? Likewise, Blaidd strikes me as someone who tries his best to be good, but in his determination to betray even his own emotions for Ranni's sake, he steeps into a depraved thirst for vengeance. He's not exactly a critical thinker.

When Blaidd eventually is corrupted, I question whether it was entirely the control of the Two Fingers, or if he felt a relentless rage toward Ranni. He spent years working to fulfill her destiny, after all. He had loved her with all his being. Even still, she foresook him. Despite this, he rooted himself where he knelt, refusing to let his fury bring her harm.

They kinda freaks. Love me some freaks.

Anyway pls don't let this make you think I'm any less cool or well-adjusted

[scotianostra]

June 12th 1843 saw the birth of David Gill, the Scottish astronomer.

David Gill was born at 48 Skene Terrace in Aberdeen the son of David Gill, watchmaker and his wife Margaret Mitchell. He was educated first at Bellevue Academy in Aberdeen then at Dollar Academy, he spent two years at the University of Aberdeen where amongst his tutors was the great James Clerk Maxwell. After his education he joined the family business, but his heart was elsewhere and he later sold it to take up astronomy more professionally. Gill was one of the great astronomers of the late 19th century, and was universally recognised as such.

He made significant contributions to many areas of astronomy, including the measurement of the sun’s distance and the completion of a successful photographic survey of stars in the southern hemisphere, known as the Cape Photographic Durchmusterung. Gill is credited, along with fellow Scot, George Washington Wilson with being the first person to take a photograph of the moon in 1868 and the first photo of the Great Comet of 1882 from Cape Town as seen in the pics.

David Gill appears to be the only Scot to have been awarded the Bruce Medal for lifetime achievement in astronomy; the only Scot to have been awarded the Watson medal for outstanding astronomy by the US National Academy of Sciences; and the only Scot to have been awarded the Gold Medal of the Royal Astronomical Society twice.

Unusually though Gill was never astronomers royal for Scotland, indeed of the 10 appointed to this post only three were Scots, quite an alarming statistic seeing as we had so many eminent men hailing from our shores.

Back to David Gill, His meticulous observation coupled with precision instrument design was Gill’s forte, in what nowadays would be known as astrometry. Gill provided a number of definitive astronomical constants used to create nautical almanacs throughout the world, constants such as the mass of the moon, the scale of the solar system, the wobble of the Earth’s axis. This led to better almanacs, helping to make navigation at sea more accurate.

In particular he spent years working out the average distance from the Earth to the sun, which is vital for calculating the scale of the solar system. This distance is the yardstick used to measure all stellar distances. He took it from having an accuracy of +/- 4% at the start of his career to within 0.1% of modern values. There is no point n just throwing numbers up there that most of us wont understand, but if I tell you that he predetermined the distance to the sun with such precision that his value was used for almanacs until 1968 I think it will put it more into perspective.

He may never have been our Astronomer Royal, David Gill did however hold the post of President in the Royal Astronomical Society, President from 1909-11. Gill passed away in 1914 aged 70 and was buried in the grounds of St Machar’s Cathedral, Aberdeen.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

(NO BETA) EXCERPT FROM MY SHIGADABI FANTASY AU, UP ON THE CLIFF:

“... Kurogiri told me earlier that you slept through most of the passage to the cliff. Should I trust you found it a peaceful ride?”

Still encased in nighttime dimness, Touya tried to decipher the tone floating down at him from the head of the table. He couldn't see its owner past the glow of the candles, the darkness that rained down on them from the vaults in the high ceiling. To compensate his lack of visual confirmation, he sketched the man there with his mind, faithful to the memory of how his host, the Count up on the cliff, had looked under the morning sunlight.

Touya remembered it all too well, how they had sat there distracted with their food or the noises of their companions. The Count's hair would flow down and sparkle against the raw terrain of his skin, making it all the more hard to not stare at his eyes of red turmoils and secrecy. The Count was fresh snow on an open wound and Touya thought the color was more common the closer he was to the passage, but not by much. On his journey to the valley, he had met barely a few of human refugees with a similar red in his eyes. Yet the Count's matched his cape and its collar, lined in white fur —it matched his hair.

That thought would've made him frown if spoken aloud. After all, he cared nothing if the Count had had the coat over his shoulders made to match him, if his scars made his all the more raw, if his was the name he hasn't known yet. Curious but trivial things did not matter and they shouldn't. Touya was only interested in the sensation of his mind already wandering, getting uncoordinated. It was the same case as before, when any thought of the Count would lead him into slippery slopes and Touya, or anyone else on that matter, would soonly forget why they were thinking about him at all.

“...”

Once more, Touya looked up to face the Count's silence, allowing the company to chitchat as they pleased. The times they talked were enough to be counted with the fingers of a single hand and, rare as they were, they would startle Touya, raising his attention of the ones sitting or resting beside him. The Count had the soft-spoken cadence of a man home taught by the best tutors money could buy, but his words lacked any politeness or fondness and instead came enveloped in direct orders or demands, cryptical than most, that the habitants of the castle would follow to the letter. Touya did call him a petulant child in the past, if he recall the accident shortly after his arrival. It had been easier back then, to insult him, to blame the anger and frustration he felt on the man that demanded his sacrifice. Touya hadn't known him yet and he did not know him still, which left him with the only other option available: to know himself better, his place in that monster town, his role in that castle. He could only decipher his own heart to set apart any alien feeling, any influence, any invasion.

As for now, it was as if they were not there. Touya had disappear alongside the Count to the world.

He risked a glace at Toga and the gecko boy, each by his left, but they were busy reacting to some kind of joke Jin was telling. Mr. Atsuhiro, by his right side, was not even looking at the table or his dessert, too busy gesturing at their butler as if explaining his excitement about what they had had for dinner that night. No one reacted to the conversation he was having with the Count. No one even looked his way o tried to pressure him to answer, not even the butler confirmed what the Count had said. Could it be...

Could it be that the Count was reading his mind?

Touya made to grab his glass, emptying his mind so violently he felt a snap in the back of his head. However, as soon as he extended his left hand the room started spinning, the smiles of the pictures framed by the walls getting more loopsided by the minute, the food balancing left and right over the tablecloth, a waltz of dresses and coats and hats and spiders—

“Calm down.”

Touya tried to blink it away. There was a solid grip on his chest, tugging to get the nod on his lungs undone. He allowed the unknown pulse to had him as he concentrated on keeping his face clean of panic; not thinking, not allowing anyone else to know how altered he wasat the moment. It took him a lifetime, the type that is condensated in a minute, before the room settled and he was able to hear.

“ —ust like that. Good,” Touya blinked again and again towards the direction of the voice, one, two seats past Mr. Atsuhiro, noticing what he thought was a faint smile hovering on the air and a pair of watchful red eyes on him.

Touya heard it again, this time realizing the Count was not moving his lips, not even vacillating on his strange and curious expression:

“Did I spook you, Dabi?” when he only narrowed his eyes in response, he was allowed to appreciate how the Count huffed with amusement, looking down at his plate, “A-ah. Don't be angry. It's not my intention to read your mind, nor am I doing it at the moment.”

Confusion accumulated on his brow, driving him closer to the table as if he could figure out what the Count was talking about by sheer proximity. He was not talking, was he? Touya could see how he lifted a cup to drink of the wine, responding to whatever Spinner had asked him a second ago.

“I am projecting the words to your mind, that is. I asure you it's a one-way road. Unless...”

For the first time since his arrival, Touya saw the mouth of the Count tilt at the corners with what could only be mischief. It was hard to admit, even harder to explain, what the motion did to him and how it activated his competitive instinct. From his time training with his dad, Touya could recognize a challenge with eyes close, hands bind, deaf to any sound. It was in the air, in the gentle swept of the candlelight, the smooth inclination of the host shoulders until his elbows were resting fully on the table, hands intertwined ao he could rest his chin.

He reminded himself of the original question, the one that started this whole conversation. He had slept, sure, but it jad been due the strange magic that had surrounded him that evening. Memories of his family had seized him as their car climbed downhill, images of his childhood on the Himura state, of Sekoto Peak, of his siblings and cousins running in the distance as he chased butterflies in the hidden fields past the family greenhouse. He doesn't know when he transitioned from merely reminiscing to fully dreaming. The distant howls woke him near the butler's tavern, some hours past midnight, maybe.

When Touya glanced at the Count, he was almost bored, playing with the rim of his cup while gecko boy showed him something on his hand. It could have been a spider, but Touya didn't care. He had an hypothesis to prove, a host to impress, a dare to win.

He pictured himself opening his mouth, forming the syllables with his lips, tasted the sounds of every vowel and sent them crashing to his host pretty ears.

Touya thought, “unless I talk back?” and stared satisfied at the Count as his eyes left the gecko's hands to look at him, red so bright he thought the world had caught fire. The Count waited, moving his fingers against his cheeks as if telling Touya that now he had his attention. “I slept on the ride here influenced by your butler's dark magic, but you knew that. You asked him to use his magic and put me to slumber. Your question, it was not politeness nor politics.”

The Count lifted his cup, drinking the last of his wine as Touya organized his thoughts.

“You wanted me to talk to you this way.”

It was the longest conversation he had had with the man since he arrived at that wasteland. The fact dented Touya's pride. That he had allowed the Count to treat him like a prisoner for so long, that he had allowed the Count to ignore him, his existence, if not for his presence every morning during breakfast and more recently on dinners, where he would not address him at all and leave as soon as the meal was over. He did not ached for his company or validation. He didn't want him to treat him like the rest, with similar silence that always ended on a well though inquiry, maybe a few words of encouragement, disguised by his position as the count so they wouldn't sound very vulnerable. The Count had talked to him before, but always through others, or just a phrase, just a nod. He had sent him a trained dog to guide him through the town, so he wouldn't get lost. He had offered to took him back to his village, ordering a car to wait for him every evening by the gates of the castle. He had gave him the key of his room, accepted him as Dabi and only referred to him as that, despite knowing the truth. Had had Dabi's meals made specially for him as to not upset his stomach, gave him a room specially acclimated to accommodate his wronging sickness.

Everything he knew about the Count, he knew it for his actions and never his words. And it had been enough for him for an entire month now. He had found it comfortable enough to walk and talk and act among them without much fuss. Touya only demanded answers or respect when it was either about his mission to unlock the mystery behind the demon sickness that afflicted him or when it was about his freedom to roam around doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He didn't care about the games the Count wanted to play with the rest of them.

He almost missed the moment the Count stood up, the legs of his chair scratching so subtly the wood of the floor. It was their signal. The meal was officially over.

He thanked the gecko boy —Iguchi— for showing him the cards of a new game he was crafting and nodded once, a gesture meant to acknowledge everyone in the room in a brief goodbye, before he walked out the room and left behind only the trail of his coat disappearing around the corner.

Touya followed the rest, his dessert intact on the plate as they took the dishes to the kitchen to be magically cleaned by the staff. Jin invited them to play cards, an offer he denied without explanation and that Iguchi and Toga immediately latched to. Mr. Atsuhiro had only crossed his arms and let out a single sigh, deciding he could play piano to make them company or supervise the progression of the game, in case it got... Complicated.

Dabi sent them to the game room with a shake of shoulders. They could do as they wanted too.

He didn't want to know.

On the hallway up to his room, he stopped along the way once, in front of the window walls. The moon had partially came out, clouds rolling low over the forest and mixing with the fog. The air was chilling, cold kisses on his bandaged wounds. He extended his pointer finger to touch a pale ray of moonlight, admiring the absence of heat and the silver stiches that differentiate it so much from its daylight equivalent. Beneath it, the edges of his burns became a deep purple, his skin taking and unnatural blue glow. Back at home, they had told him several times that his eyes would get the more scary at night, when they would shine even brighter than the moon or any fireplace made by human hands. He would laugh and smile, big, big enough to show all his teeth, and the kids would run and call for help and their mothers would call him a monster, a zombie, a walking grave.

Then came that sensation to his chest and Touya squished it, set it aflame, reduced it to ashes. He stepped back and turned around, not stopping until the door of his room was locked and his body was resting on his bed, curtains close, his clothes changed and wounds freshly bandaged.

He had felt red eyes on him. That sensation. The tug, the weight, his finger touching the glass of the window. Touya didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if what he had said was right or if it was wrong, if the Count left becuase he left or if he left because of him. He didn't want to know if the others were having fun, sitting on the carpet, fingers touching one another as they laid their cards down.

The night had inflicted irreparable damage on him. He shouldn't had allowed the Count to talk to him like that, through his thoughts, direcly to his mind. Touya shouldn't had fallen so easily for the Count's twisted games, craving the excitement of a new discovery, a challenger to beat, a rival to show off to. Something had been taken and given in return that night. The full moon was whispering of trades and Touya sat by the fireplace, burning piece of paper after piece of paper, until his rage had subdued.

« you want me to talk to you like this. »

Touya threw an entire book to the fire.

He didn't want to know.

[dejanick]

Flyer designed for Tutor Elite, Cape Town, South Africa.

[rallis-fatalis]

The Price of Freedom - Chapter 3

New year, new chapter! I hope to do a good few this year. Please enjoy the next installment of Astrath's adventures!

“Now just open the pouch and prepare yourself.”

The black dragon took a steadying breath and gripped the edges of the tan cloth pouch. After a moment, they nearly ripped it open with such force. Out of the mouth of the pouch shot forth a golden light that landed in a writhing mass on the ground before the dragon. The pouch erupted in a golden shower of light in kind. The flailing light began to take shape, something long and noodley. Four small almost vestigial legs formed, then a mane of fur-like spines, until finally the light disappeared with a pop and what slithered before the dragon now was something long and snakelike. They had made a wyrm appear out of thin air! Its golden scales and red spines looked heavily out of place among the green grass and verdant shrubbery.

“Very good! Now try to command it,” a man standing behind the dragon directed. He was bald and sported green robes and a long white cape with a wolf stitched on the back.

The black dragon nodded and gave the wyrm a concentrated glare, attempting to assert dominance without the spoken word. The wyrm reared back its head and hissed, forked tongue flicking between long sharp fangs. Its tail flicked wildly like a rattler, and it squirmed and growled like an unholy beast.

“It will be more strong-willed than a wolf or dreadfowl,” the bald man said. “Keep at it!”

The black dragon flashed its teeth in a snarl and flared open its wings ever so slightly, starry membrane glittering ever so delicately in the sunlight. Suddenly, it felt like a large amount of their energy had drained away. The dragon struggled to maintain the glare but powered through, and after the initial draining feeling faded away, the wyrm whined and loosened its stance and bowed its head, subdued. The black dragon took a breath and smiled at the man behind him. The man gave him a nod and a smile in return.

“Very good, Astrath. You’re advancing well, especially for someone not native here.”

The dragon, Astrath, leaned down and held a hand out to the newly tamed wyrm. It slithered up their arm and coiled around their neck and shoulders with a curious flick of the tongue. Astrath gave the wyrm a gentle stroke, combing their claws through its mane of spines.

“That little one won’t last on this plane long so make your time count,” the man said.

“Thank you, Master Pikkupstix,” the dragon said with a bowed head. “When do you think I will be able to move onto the larger beasts? Minotaurs, I believe I heard you call them?”

“Whoa there, friend, let’s not get hasty. Those beasts are very difficult to handle and in untrained hands can run wild and cause great destruction. You are not quite ready yet.” 

Astrath huffed in disdain. They wanted the power this newfangled summoning skill promised! A way to take back Krawley manor, free everyone and exact revenge, was right at their fingertips and their own tutor wouldn’t let them continue. It was an outrage! Smoke rose from Astrath’s nostrils, startling the wyrm around their shoulders, but the dragon said nothing and instead spun on their heels and angrily walked through the town.

Astrath noticed no one and nothing as they stalked through town. Other summoning apprentices remarked on the job well done to summon something as surly as a desert wyrm, while other townsfolk simply admired the beautiful day with their own pets and familiars out and about. Speaking of, Rojaw the fire drake was currently chasing someone’s pet squirrel around the trunk of a tree in a dizzying game of tag. The sight sobered the black dragon back to reality.

“Hey Rojaw,” Astrath started. They held out their arm for the wyrm to coil itself around. “Look what I summoned today.”

The wyrm hissed and slithered down to the ground. Rojaw bounded over, excitedly giving the summoned wyrm a sniff. It returned the gesture in kind.

“Our friend won’t be here long. Why not show them a good time, hmm?”

Rojaw chirped and wagged his tail. He gestured the wyrm toward the squirrel and the tree so they could continue playing. Astrath chuckled as they watched the three beasts squeal and play. If the wyrm had to be summoning practice, the least the dragon could do was give it a good time while it was on this plane. They let them play and headed to the house of Silenthe, the druid kindly providing shelter during their stay in Taverley.

Astrath made their way to a two storey hut more furnished with plant life than actual lodging accommodations. Inside, Silenthe was baking a chicken for lunch and soup stock, making Astrath drool involuntarily. Silenthe gave the front door a glance and smiled to himself as Astrath walked in.

“Hungry I take it? Don’t get my nice wood floor too wet now.”

Astrath ashamedly wiped their mouth. “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, thank you. I’m nearly done. How did summoning practice go?”

“I’ve managed to summon a wyrm now.”

“That’s actually a bit impressive.” Silenthe sprinkled some spices on a tray of roasted potatoes and checked on the chicken. “You learn quickly.”

“Yet Master Pikkupstix refuses to allow me the knowledge to practice with the more difficult beasts.”

“He has a very good reason for that. The last time a student summoned a strong beast they were not ready to handle, it killed not only the student but three apprentices nearby and demolished a pair of buildings. Pikkupstix has been very cautious since.”

Astrath grumbled but understood the reasoning.

“You shouldn’t rush to that anyway. It’s time to relax and enjoy the festivities soon.”

The dragon cocked their head. “Festivities?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? In two days we will be celebrating midsummer. There are costumes and dances and delicious foods, and by the end we celebrate our surplus of herbs with a little… libation, amongst other things.”

Astrath hid a snicker at the idea of the entire town dancing around drunkenly. The people of Taverley seemed like they would be a lot more fun when they drank than the stuck-ups at the Krawley dinner table.

Silenthe hauled the roasted chicken out of the oven and sprinkled it with another round of spices. He transferred it to a large platter and brought it to the dining table alongside the roasted potatoes and pitcher of water. Even after spending a couple weeks under the same roof as the druid, Astrath was still not used to the copious amount of mouth-watering food the man just casually gave the dragon. They didn’t have to work their scales off or beg like a dog or take a beating just for a chance at scraps. All Astrath did was kill and pluck the chicken and pick the potatoes and Silenthe called that meager work more than enough help. They didn’t think they’d ever get used to such generosity.

Astrath brought Rojaw in for his share, summoned wyrm tagging along to simply enjoy living for a moment in this new world, and the quartet passed the lunchtime away in familial conversation.

__________________________________________________________________________

Music streamed throughout Taverley, sun adornments hung on every flat surface or open face, glasses of wine or other drink were clinked together in merriment. The day of the midsummer festival had arrived. A great series of tables had been put together for the whole town to come together for a great feast, and already the townsfolk were busy preparing great abundances of food. The younger members of Taverley ran about in festive attire, some alongside their animal or summoned companions, playing games and causing scenes of joy. Some of the adults were working on building an effigy of sorts atop the hill near the druidic altar for a later ceremony. It was all far too much for Astrath to take in at once. They had never seen anything like this. So many happy people and festive decor and just things and happenings in one place. It threatened to overwhelm them.

Silenthe wasn’t there to explain anything or lead the dragon around, too busy helping with the feast setup, leaving the dragon to stand awkwardly by the corner of a shaded building with an antsy Rojaw beside them. The little fire drake stamped his feet and paced as he wanted to run around and sniff and explore, but he also didn’t want to leave his friend’s side. 

Astrath didn’t miss his companion’s gestures. “Rojaw, you can go have fun if you’d like. I think I just need a few more minutes to… adjust.”

The drakeling whimpered and rubbed his face against Astrath’s leg in comfort. He wouldn’t leave just yet.

After some time of waiting and watching in the shadowed silence, Astrath took note of a trio of druids setting something up by the altar with the effigy. Whatever they were doing caught their attention, or rather their nose’s attention, and so they went to investigate. Rojaw took this as his cue to leave and hopped away to mooch at the feast table.

On the dais in the center of the altar, the three druids were setting up long, thin, flat strips of metal, nearly the size of someone’s forearm. There were holes on one end of each metal strip, and Astrath watched in curiosity as the druids placed long thin sticks inside each hole. The sticks were tipped with something that smelled confusing, sweet but smoky, good but bad, a conundrum for the nostrils.

One druid took notice of Astrath’s lingering, and after a small jolt of shock at the sudden appearance of the dragon, waved hello.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you,” the dragon started. “I was simply interested in this part of the festival, is all. What is it you three are doing?”

“Oh, we’re just setting up the incense burners,” one druid explained. “After the feast and dances, we light these incense sticks, say our prayers and wishes to the icon,” he motioned to the effigy, “and then burn it so our wishes may rise and hopefully the answers brought back down to us.”

Astrath hummed in understanding and sniffed one of the unlit incense sticks in the tray. “This incense stick, what is it made of? Its smell is… peculiar.”

“They’re tipped with an herb called marrentil. They’re a perfect herb to use as incense. It calms the mind and provides a feeling of comfort. If you’ve never seen it before I imagine it might smell a little odd.”

The dragon gave the stick another sniff of interest. They couldn’t seem to pull their nose away. The smell was so enticing. They made a mental note to definitely check this part of the festival out once it started.

“Anyway, we’re done setting up here,” the druid said. “Come back around sunset to see the place all lit up! Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to get to that feast!”

The druid ran off giddily toward the set up tables with his two companions in tow. Feeling a little more comfortable, Astrath decided to join them.

Every single member of Taverley was present at the table, making Astrath more nervous and uncomfortable than they’d been since leaving Ardougne. They were never the one at the table, but the one watching from afar. And this wasn’t a meeting between the Krawleys and their prospective traders, solemn and full of looks and gestures with meanings mere words could not convey. Here, the people laughed and cheered and clinked their glasses and wished each other well. Animals sat beside their human friends, not owners but friends, and had their own plateful to eat instead of the scraps left behind after their ‘betters’ had eaten, cold scraps of bone and perhaps a few crumbs of bread or vegetable. Even Rojaw got a huge plate all for himself, something the little drakeling roared about with glee.

Once the eating had mostly finished and the chatter had reached a pitch, an older druid stood with his cup raised and asked for silence. The crowd slowly petered their conversations and looked to the man.

“Thank you,” he started. “My, what a bountiful year it has been. Truly, the land has borne more boons than ever. May we pray tonight that this coming year will be just as blessed. The gift of summoning has reached farther now than it ever has, and every passing day I see more of us truly embracing Guthix’s teachings and becoming one with nature. We have lost some friends, yes, but we have also made new ones, some of which I think I can safely say none of us ever thought of making!”

Everyone glanced at Astrath for a moment at that, some chuckling a bit, and raised their glasses to the dragon. The dragon returned the gesture so as not to be rude, but the attention was unwanted. They sank a bit in their chair at the farthest corner of the table as if to shrink away and hide.

The druid continued his speech, but Astrath didn’t hear it, too focused on trying to feel more at ease around all these people, which of course did the exact opposite. They only spoke when spoken to and ate in silence, focusing on the food rather than the company. They hardly noticed the time pass as everyone ate until everyone began to rise to place their dishes in the wash bins. Astrath shot up and hurriedly rushed their and Rojaw’s empty plates over. Finally, something to take their mind off things! A chore always did the trick.

Astrath hefted up a full bin of plates, utensils, and cups, ready to take them to the lake and river for washing, but someone stopped them.

“Dear, what are you doing?” a woman placing her dishes in a bin asked.

“Helping clean,” they said matter of factly. “These are to be washed at the river, correct?”

“Well yes but please do not worry about such things right now. Now is time to socialize and have fun! The washing can wait until later.”

The dragon inwardly grimaced. “Please, as a guest in this town, I feel as though I have not done my part. Allow me.”

Without waiting to hear any argument, Astrath swiftly strode away to the river with a massive bin in hand, ready to have some alone time with the water. As soon as their hands hit the cold river water, they had already begun to zone the noise of the festival out and grow calmer. They closed their eyes, took a few deep breaths, and began to wash the dishes. The methodical scrubbing did indeed prove relaxing, quickly returning to an old routine of washing whatever needed to be at the manor. But after a while, their calm gaze twisted into one of fury. A growl rose in Astrath’s throat and they could not hide the roar and blaze that came after. The cold river water sizzled as dragonfire flared across its flowing surface.

How pathetic were they?! Finding comfort not in the company of others but instead in the solitude of chores and menial labor. This wasn’t enjoyment, this wasn’t life. This was perpetuating a standard they had sought to escape from. They were free to make their own decisions now, and their decision should not be to escape from kindness and familiality to live in the familiar norm of the past.

Astrath rose with one final spit of fire and tossed the clean dish into the clean bin. They were going to enjoy the rest of the day, damn it, even if it killed them! They started to stomp toward the altar where the others were gathering only to realize perhaps it wouldn’t be the best idea to leave the bins of dishes by the riverside. Best return those first.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun began to set and Taverley met for the final event of the day: a ceremony of wishes and prayers by the altar. Everyone gathered around, much more subdued than before but still cheerful. Astrath missed the beginning of the event, the speech and all that, and had come right as people were making their personal silent wishes. Once everyone had finished, a druid in green robes with a heavy green cape spoke.

“And now we offer our wishes to the sky and pray they may be granted.”

Some of the townsfolk nodded, others raised their hands up, others stood motionless but thoughtful. Astrath thought of a wish as well, one not as vengeful as the wish to enact revenge on the Krawleys. They instead thought of their parents and wished to see them again, safe and sound one day.

The green caped druid turned to the effigy, lit a stick aflame, and torched the effigy atop the altar. The flame consumed the figure in a blaze of glory, and a few druids began to set the incense surrounding it alight. At once, cheering began. People shouted and frolicked and danced around the circle. As the sun fully set, torches blazed and those costumed pulled on masks in the shape of the sun. Once again, the party was at a fever pitch, possibly even louder than before. But this time Astrath wasn’t anxious from the commotion. In fact, they felt calmer than they ever had in their life. Their vision grew slightly hazy, and they found it hard to keep their eyes completely open. A lazy smile graced their face, and dare they say even a few giggles slipped out of their mouth.

Silenthe had finally found the time to see Astrath and smiled at the dragon. “You seem to be in good spirits! I’m glad you found our festival enjoyable.”

Still half-lidded and lazily grinning, Astrath gave a sloppy nod. “Yeah… This is great… I feel so good right now. I love this place.”

The man laughed. “I’m glad! Come now, come! Let’s get a drink.”

A drink? As in alcohol? But that was only for the lords and ladies, not a lowly beast! 

But instead what came out of Astrath’s mouth was an excitedly vulgar “Fuck yeah!”

Silenthe gave a shocked blink. The dragon was always so formally spoken. To hear them swear was quite a shock.

The two grabbed a glass of Astrath couldn’t begin to guess what and gave it a sniff. “Wow that smells like crap!” But they swigged it anyway. It may have smelled and tasted foul, but it made them feel warm and cozy and happy. They chugged the entire glass and grabbed another. Silenthe put a hand on the dragon’s arm.

“Whoa there, friend. Slow down. Have you ever had a drink like this before?”

Astrath shook their head. “Pssh, I’ve only ever served this stuff like a butler. You think I would ever be given something that actually cost money to drink? This foul beverage is fantastic and I would like another!”

The dragon wrenched their arm free and slammed down a second drink. Silenthe stopped them from grabbing a third. It was then the man noticed something.

“Are you alright, Astrath? Your eyes are very red.”

The dragon blinked a few times as if that would change their color. “I feel great, better than I’ve ever felt. I think I’m going to go back to those nice smelly sticks now.”

The dragon stumbled back to the rising smoke of the altar with a giddy smile. Silenthe decided it would be best to make sure Astrath would be alright and followed right behind them.

Once at the altar, Astrath flopped onto the grass and rested their head atop the dais where the incense was burning. They took a huge whiff and relaxed against the flame-heated stone. They closed their eyes with a smile, their head spinning in the best way possible.

“Oh, you must have gotten some of the smoke in your eyes,” Silenthe figured. “You probably shouldn’t stay right next to the fire then before your eyes grow irritated.”

“I couldn’t possibly leave,” the dragon mumbled. “Right here is exactly where I want to be.” Words were getting harder to say, and sounds harder to hear. All they could think about was the delicious smell of sweet smoke rising into their nostrils.

“Perhaps dragons just get drunk very quickly,” Silenthe mumbled, puzzled by their companion’s sudden change in attitude. “Come now, friend, I think you’ve indulged enough for one day. Let’s get you home.”

Astrath groaned sadly in protest but their limbs felt far too heavy to fight back. This wave of relaxation was so strong and sudden they couldn’t find the urge to move an inch, and creeping out of the depths of their mind the threat of sleep was coming. They said and did nothing more as they felt Silenthe pick them up and fell asleep in his arms.

__________________________________________________________________________

The sun shimmered through the window bright and early the next morning. The birds chirped their cheery song so sweetly outside, only broken by the soft sounds of people preparing for the day down below.

It was horrible.

Astrath groaned loudly as they woke in Silenthe’s bed, an oddity in its own right as they normally slept on the floor with blankets and a pillow. But what was just as odd was the splitting headache coursing through their head and the vilely sour feeling in their stomach. Astrath tried to sit up and immediately wished they hadn’t. The world spun and their vision swam and it was most certainly not like the pleasant feeling from last night. They held back a gag and sat at the edge of the bed with their head in their lap.

A few minutes later, Silenthe appeared with a piping hot cup of fresh tea. Astrath could smell something else inside it, but they couldn’t make out what, their senses muddled. Yet another thing to add to the odd list.

“After last night, I thought you might be needing this.” The druid rubbed the dragon’s back and held out the cup of tea. Astrath very slowly lifted their head and took the cup. The first sip already helped cut through the fog in their mind.

“I feel terrible,” they mumbled.

“Well, you did seem to have a bit of fun,” he stifled a laugh. “You drank a bit so I imagine that’s why your head and stomach may be hurting. Drink the tea and we’ll get some food in you.”

Astrath lifted the cup in thanks and took a large swig. Silenthe looked into the dragon’s eyes as they drank, unnerving them more than a bit.

“Sorry, I was just making sure your eyes weren’t still red. They seem to be fine now. It really must have just been the smoke causing irritation.”

“I would hardly call that– what was it, incense? –irritating. I’ve never felt better. It was so calming.”

“Marrentil does have that effect, yes, but not so severely. You passed out at the altar and were quite out of sorts. It was almost like you–.”

Silenthe stopped as a realization hit them. “Hold on, I would like to try something.”

He ran downstairs and returned with one of the incense sticks from last night, as well as a match. “What does this smell like to you?” he asked.

Astrath gave the stick a sniff and ever so subtly in the back of their mind, the headache began to fade. “I can’t describe it. It’s… sweet but sour but also smoky. It’s sharp but also plain. It’s like many smells put together, conflicting but they come together in the end.”

The description raised an eyebrow from the druid. “To me, it smells like almost nothing. Not until it’s burnt, anyway. Now if I set it on fire…”

He lit the match and brought the flame to the tip of the incense. Wisps of smoke wafted through the air, and immediately Astrath’s shoulders untensed and their headache was gone. They breathed in the smell with a small smile. Silenthe took the scene in and once he understood, he couldn’t help but laugh. He doused the incense as he tried and failed to cover his giggles.

Astrath pouted as the incense went out. “What is so comedic?”

“Oh, you, my friend! This little herb seems to have quite a different effect on dragons than it does humans. I wonder if any other herbs do something similar. I would love to test them.” Astrath squinted, wanting an answer. Silenthe waved the stick around excitedly. “You got high, haha! All that incense smoke, it must have overloaded your mind and senses and made you relax so much you fell asleep. It seems marrentil is to dragons as catnip is to cats. Dragon-nip if you will!”

Astrath covered their face in embarrassment. They might not have fully understood what ‘being high’ meant, but they knew from the connotation enough that they had acted foolish in public because of it.

“Your drake friend is eating in the kitchen. I wonder if he would act the same way as you.”

Silenthe deviously trotted downstairs to test his hypothesis. Astrath scrambled out of bed, headache forgotten. 

“Leave him out of this! I don’t need that rascal acting even goofier than usual!”

‘Also you should save it for me!’ their betraying brain screamed.

[robyngordon]

Understanding Psychoeducational Assessment in Cape Town, South Africa

Psychoeducational assessments play a crucial role in understanding an individual’s learning capabilities and behavioral development. In Cape Town, South Africa, these evaluations are becoming increasingly recognized as an essential tool for parents, teachers, and healthcare professionals. These assessments are conducted by educational psychologists to identify learning difficulties, cognitive challenges, emotional issues, or developmental delays in children and adolescents. This article explores the importance, process, and benefits of psychoeducational assessment Cape Town South Africa in the context of Cape Town.

What is a Psychoeducational Assessment?

A psychoeducational assessment is a comprehensive evaluation designed to assess a person’s cognitive, academic, emotional, and behavioral functioning. It is particularly useful for identifying learning disabilities, intellectual challenges, ADHD, and other psychological issues that may impact a child’s performance in school. By examining a range of factors, including intelligence, memory, problem-solving skills, and emotional well-being, the assessment provides a detailed picture of a child’s strengths and areas where support may be needed.

Why is it Important?

In Cape Town, the importance of psychoeducational assessments has gained recognition as more children struggle with undiagnosed learning difficulties. Many children in schools across South Africa experience challenges such as dyslexia, ADHD, or emotional difficulties that affect their academic performance. Without early diagnosis, these children often fall behind, which can lead to increased anxiety, low self-esteem, and academic failure.

The psychoeducational assessment helps parents, educators, and caregivers understand the underlying causes of a child's difficulties and offers a roadmap for intervention. Identifying issues early allows for tailored educational plans and the development of appropriate learning strategies that cater to the individual needs of the child. These interventions can drastically improve academic performance, confidence, and emotional well-being.

The Process of Psychoeducational Assessment

In Cape Town, psychoeducational assessments are conducted by trained educational psychologists, who follow a structured process to ensure accurate and comprehensive results. The process typically involves:

Initial Consultation: The psychologist meets with the parents or caregivers to understand the child’s background, including academic history, behavior, and concerns. Teachers may also provide input at this stage.

Testing: A battery of tests is administered to assess the child’s intellectual abilities (IQ), academic skills, attention span, memory, and emotional functioning. These tests are tailored to the child’s age, grade, and specific challenges.

Observation: The psychologist may observe the child in their school environment to understand how they interact with peers and teachers and how they respond to academic tasks.

Feedback Session: After the tests are completed, the psychologist will analyze the data and present a comprehensive report. This report includes diagnostic findings, recommendations for intervention, and educational accommodations.

Follow-up: After the assessment, ongoing support may be recommended, such as therapy, academic tutoring, or referrals to other specialists.

Benefits of Psychoeducational Assessments in Cape Town

Psychoeducational assessments provide invaluable insights into the educational and psychological needs of children and adolescents. In Cape Town, where schools often face limited resources and large class sizes, individualized learning plans are crucial to supporting children with special needs.

Customized Learning Plans: With the results of the assessment, teachers and parents can create an individualized education plan (IEP) that is designed to support the child's specific learning needs, whether they require extra time during tests or additional tutoring.

Emotional and Behavioral Support: Beyond academic interventions, psychoeducational assessments help identify emotional or behavioral issues that may require therapeutic interventions, such as counseling or social skills training.

Empowering Families and Schools: Parents and teachers gain a deeper understanding of the child’s challenges, leading to more empathetic and effective strategies in the classroom and at home.

In psychologist in Southern Suburbs Cape Town South Africa are a vital tool for ensuring that children and adolescents receive the support they need to thrive academically, socially, and emotionally. By identifying learning disabilities, cognitive challenges, or emotional difficulties early on, these assessments open the door to tailored interventions and specialized educational strategies that empower children to succeed. As awareness grows, more families and educators in Cape Town are turning to psychoeducational assessments as a way to unlock the full potential of every learner.

[mybookplacenet]

Author Interview: Jo-Anne Duffett

Tell us about yourself.: I am a medical doctor by day and writer by night and somewhere in between I find time for photography, gardening, running, kayaking and travelling with her fishing mad husband. I am passionate about sports medicine and am also a travel doctor with a yellow fever license and a part-time academic. My first novel, Surf n Turf is set between Cape Town (home) and the Karoo where I love the brilliant night skies. Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: I was born and raised in Johannesburg, South Africa, into a fairly ordinary medical family. Not for long, though... When I finished primary school, we moved to the amazon jungle where my parents were medical missionaries. The mission base was a cultural melting pot of Brazilians, Americans, Europeans and every nationality you can imagine. I quickly added Portuguese to my English and Afrikaans. (South Africa has 12 official languages (sign language being the 12th)). I had a Norwegian tutor for geography, a British lady for English, a South African ecologist teaching me about the jungle, there was a an Argentinian who fell in love with an Australian. So I have a very multi-cultural background. When I returned to South Africa to complete high school, no one could figure out my nationality by my accent. I was just the jungle girl who had owned a pet sloth, nearly lost her parrot to a boa constrictor and dealt with many snakes and tarantulas. I also had a horse, Great Danes and Siamese cats who were never allowed outside without a leash - we never knew when there was a jaguar lurking around. Our house was surrounded by jungle. The howler monkeys were terrifying when we first arrived and I was trying to read Lord of the Rings and was convinced the sounds came from some creature in the book. After the jungle Cape Town was tame but my family continued to do short term mission trips, taking me to places like Uganda and Mozambique. I met my husband when I was 14 but we only married when I was 25 once I was finished studying medicine. He had never left the Western Cape before meeting me, now we have travelled all over the world and South Africa. My field of medicine also creates opportunities for travel, I have been to a conference in the USA, visited universities in the Netherlands, travelled with team South Africa to China, India, the Isle of Man, Zambia and Lesotho. I love exploring and with my husband we have ventured to Finland, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, Madagascar, the Seychelles, Zanzibar and all our neighbors Namibia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Zambia. So I have many places cultures and languages to draw from in my writing. I now consider myself a naturalized Capetonian as I have lived here the longest. Do you have any unusual writing habits? I plot while I'm running. Do you have any advice for new authors? When writing thoughts from a different gender to your own, bounce your ideas off someone of that gender. What is the best advice you have ever been given? Porque Deus amou o mundo de tal maneira que deu o seu Filho unigénito, para que todo aquele que nele crê não pereça, mas tenha a vida eterna. João 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that who ever believes in him will have eternal life. John 3:16 What are you reading now? A Thousand and One Arabian nights by Anon on audiobook in my car check out Librivox.com for free audiobooks (classic) Work and Win by Oliver Optic audio book on my phone while I do chores (classic children) The Leper of St Giles by Ellis Peters in my husbands car (medieval mystery) Secrets at Court by Blythe Gifford in the lounge (historical romance) The Phoenix and the Carpet by E Nesbit in the bedroom (classic children) Trapped with the Duke by Annabelle Anders on my phone for queues (historical romance) What's your biggest weakness? Well fitted jeans on a man Historical romances Chocolate What is your favorite book of all time? Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen I never get tired of reading it. Or watching it, although reading is better as you get to imagine how they look. I love the way she creates strong personalities. When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? Working! Exploring Researching my next holiday Running Photography Hiking Walking with my husband Kayaking Open water swimming Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? The first story I remember was the Lion the Witch and the wardrobe. My sister and I took turns to read it out aloud and we were limited to a chapter a night. It was so frustrating. When I was small, I was given a proper Holy Bible by my grandpa and a dictionary. I would look up a word to have to look up the words explaining that word. I guess it improved my vocabulary exponentially. My setwork books at school I read cover to cover the first day I got them and instead of studying for the literature exams I just re-read them. What has inspired you and your writing style? Although I enjoy reading classics, I really enjoy the fast paced style of mysteries, combined with my love of romance. I want to keep the reader interested and turning the pages not getting bogged down in detail. Its an art to describe the beauty of the setting without leading your reader to skim. What are you working on now? A sweet contemporary medical romance which combines my passion for my work with my enjoyment of literature. Fire & Ice, How to Tame a Doc Thomás Ribeiro could win the titles of “best dad” and “Dreamland’s Doctor Tall, Dark and Handsome,” but he is icy to ladies and with good reason. Dr Charlie Kriel is a pint-sized fiery sports doc, wary of kids and determined to do without men. A matchmaking aunt and engaging kid contrive to melt ice with fire. Charlie is determined to protect her heart and keep her secrets, so she fights like a scared kitten. Can Thomás, get out of his self-imposed ice-cage, and tame her? What is your favorite method for promoting your work? Book review sites What's next for you as a writer? A time-travel romance :-) Buckle up for a thrilling ride through time and space in Dani the Dino Girl, From Fossils to Fables. When 21st century palaeontologist, Dani, is suddenly transported back in time, she finds herself in the company of a 17th century nobleman who escaped pirates by traveling into the 6th century. Throw in a stowaway boy, elephant birds, a mischievous lemur, and a missing grandma. Will Dani be able to use her scientific knowledge to survive in this new world? Or will she be swept away by the romance and adventure that awaits her? Fans of time travel, historical fiction, and animal companions will love this unique blend of science and fantasy. There is loads of work still be done, but I'm enjoying all the research required for the various time zones. Who would have thought I would visit a glass museum, browse an antique store, take out palaeontology textbooks form the library or visit an archaeology dig?! How well do you work under pressure? I seem to get more done, the more that needs to be done. I thought during my holiday that I would write for vast periods, yet I ended up reading instead, but during term, when I can only snatch a sentence or a paragraph, then I really make progress. Work of course is never ending high pressure. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? It is entirely determined by my characters. I first need to understand what makes them tick, anticipate their reactions, let myself become their alter ego. If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? My photography. Search for "Jo D" on SmugMug Jo-Anne Duffett's Author Websites and Profiles Amazon Profile Goodreads Profile Read the full article

[eiuk]

The Safe House ministry was formed by Emmanuel International South Africa (EI SA) in 2009 and is located in the informal township of Masiphumelele, south of Cape Town. There is a desperately high number of abandoned and abused children left to fend for themselves in the impoverished townships.

The concept of foster parent-led homes in the informal settlements of South Africa is a practical and sustainable way to provide a family for the children. These Safe Houses are partnered with local churches to improve the spiritual support of the mums and children, as well as logistical support in counselling, transport, tutoring and discipleship.

Each home is led by a full-time and devoted house mother who raises and cares for 6 children in each home, 24 hours a day, every day. This size allows for a genuine sense of ‘family’ for the children who are referred to the safe homes and enables the house mother to spend quality time with the children rather than simply feeding and sheltering them. It is a place of love and discipleship.

The children remain in the house indefinitely or until extended family members can be found. However, even when extended family is found, they are often not willing or able to care for the child that has been left behind or removed from an abusive home environment.

The goal of the Safe House ministry is to build homes, not just of safety, but genuine places of familial nurturing for children who have been abandoned, abused or orphaned. The children have the opportunity to be raised in a Godly home environment where permanent foster mothers or parents, from the same culture, raise them as their own (but legally as a foster parent).

Read more on

[mybeingthere]

Albert Adams (1929–2006, South African)

"Born in Johannesburg in 1929, and raised mostly in Cape Town, Adams was 21 years old when South Africa's 'Population Registration Act' was enacted in 1950, establishing the system of strict racialised white-supremacist apartheid that formally categorised the country's population into African, Indian, 'white' and 'coloured' peoples.

Adams' own mixed African ('Cape Coloured') and Indian heritage placed him askance of those unrealistic demarcations and he was actively excluded from accessing the formal art education he sought at home. Later in his life, he would find comfort and identification in his Indian heritage, visiting India and finding strong kinship with the place and its people.

A university scholarship brought Adams to the Slade School of Art in London in 1953, where he remained a student until 1956. The Slade of the 1950s, and London's broader art milieu, made for a distinctive confluence of factors and approaches that would either inspire or repel Adams' work in various directions.

It was the era of the Euston Road School and the London School of painters: Lucian Freud was a tutor at Slade in Adams' time, and several other tutors were influential painters who had once been students themselves, including Claude Rogers. Adams' counted Paula Rego and Euan Uglow among his class peers. Adams was a gay man, and London's sophisticated gay subculture, closely related as it was to the art scene, may also have played a part in his life in the new city."

From the Symposium in the Salford University - Greg Thorpe, writer, curator. https://artuk.org/.../from-south-africa-to-the-slade...

[newsfromtherooftop]

North Kent College goes to Cape Town for ‘Building Blitz’

A North Kent College tutor and two former students have travelled to Cape Town to help build twenty classrooms, two playgrounds, four covered shelters and a kitchen, all in the space of seven days. Phil Miles, who is a lecturer in brickwork and multitrades at the College, was joined by two former bricklaying students Freddie Bishop and Josh Cherry, who both graduated from the College this…

[mattia-vaccari]

BRICS Astronomy Hackathon

The BRICS Astronomy Working Group Meeting 2023 was hosted by South Africa at SAAO‘s headquarters in Cape Town. The meeting ended on a high note with a Data Science Hackathon organized by Hack4dev and by the indefatigable Eslam Hussein in particular. Well done to the 30 participants and to the tutors who showed them the ways of data science applications in astronomy in a friendly and collaborative…