30-Day Drawing Challenge – Day 9 – Favorite TV Show

In case you wondered, I draw most of these while watching my son play soccer. On this particular day, the boy had an unfortunate collision with the soccer goal, which inspired me to draw a picture from one of his own favorite TV shows:

30-Day Drawing Challenge - Day 9 - for the boy
Day 9 - The Boy's Favorite TV Show

Once that was taken care of, and the boy was happy to resume playing soccer, I drew a quick picture of what my favorite TV show as been (of late, anyway):

30-Day Drawing Challenge - Day 9
Day 9 - My Favorite TV Show

Seriously, though, don’t ask what kind of act that’s supposed to be. Maybe a Vegas-y sort of thing.

How Scientists See Each Other

This image has turned up in several places now. I first saw it on Facebook, linked to PZ Myers’ blog, Pharyngula. The thing of it is, this portrays quite well how we in the sciences look on each other. The best part, though, is Chuck Norris. You see, I’m in the category of ‘Technician,’ and that is totally how I view myself!

25 Days of Writing – Day 9

Day 9: How was your character’s first kiss? Who with? Where was it? How old were they? Write the scene.

———-

“Shh.”

“What is it?” Rosaline whispered as she squatted in the bushes, trying to see through the leaves past Trey, and into the pasture beyond.

“Quiet. Come on.” He waved her forward. She crawled through the undergrowth, catching her skirts on twigs and branches as she passed.

“Bother!” she groaned.

“Shhh!! Come on!”

Rosaline finally pulled herself alongside Trey, fully enclosed by the bushes. Trey reached forward and drew down a branch, clearing their view of the pasture.

On the far side of the pasture strode an enormous grey stallion. The horse tossed its head and galloped out of sight. Trey and Rosaline could hear the hoofbeats of the stallion, despite being unable to see it. The drumming of hooves got louder. And louder.

Suddenly the great beast crossed in front of them, thundering by. The stallion stopped abruptly, circling back toward them. The horse approached the bushes where Trey and Rosaline cowered, its nose reaching into the bushes. They held their breath. Suddenly, the horse lurched back snorting. Rosaline screamed and tried to jump back, herself, but was caught by the branches of the bushes and then by Trey’s strong arms. The stallion reared up, and roared, then careened off again, out of sight.

“Let us leave this place!” cried Rosaline, desperate to escape.

Trey smiled a toothy grin. “No, wait. Let’s watch some more.”

“No, that beast means to kill us!” She watched the horse galloping again on the far side of the pasture. “Please, Trey, let’s go!”

Trey smiled and gazed back at the awesome beast. “Alright. I’ll visit him again soon. Let us go back how we came.”

Rosaline looked relieved as Trey helped her out from the bushes, carefully unhooking branches and thorns from her long gown. She looked at him, smiling. His gaze met hers, and he stopped fussing with her gown. “He’s a beautiful horse, Trey,” she smiled.

“Aye, and he’ll be mine when I have my Mark,” he boasted.

“You’ll kill yourself,” she chided.

“No, I’ll fight gallantly in many battles! You’ll see!”

Rosaline looked away, laughing. “Boys..”

“You’ll see Rose,” said Trey, stepping closer to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. Another step forward. “You’ll see.” He touched her face with is other hand. Though still hardly more than a boy, Trey’s hand was rough and calloused from months of training with the sword and on horseback.

In contrast to his own, her skin was pale and smooth, like silk. His rough palm caught on her skin as he stroked her face. He leaned close to her, a faint smile on his lips. “When I am champion, I will fight for you,” he said softly. “I will always stand for you.”

Rosaline blushed and tried to pull away. He stepped toward her, keeping her in his touch. She glanced back at his face. His eyes were warm and his mouth was smiling. “In three years, I will be your champion, always and forever,” he said softly.

He pulled her toward him and gently pressed his lips over hers. He shut his eyes and savored the sensation.

Rosaline lightly placed her hands on his chest, then suddenly shoved with all her might. “Oof!” he uttered as he stumbled backward. “Silly boy!” she laughed. “Eww!” She ran away, leaving him standing alone among the brambles. He stood, mouth agape, watching her run away. He couldn’t understand what had just happened, but he had enjoyed it. Finally, with a shrug, he took off after her, laughing as he ran.

“Stop you! Get back here!” he shouted as she disappeared over a hill.

He sprinted up the hill at stopped abruptly when he saw the scene on the other side. Rion was there, striding furiously in Trey’s direction.

Rosaline was being restrained by her scolding father, Lord Donnal, whilst her equally scolding mother examined the condition of Rosaline’s dress. “What means this, running off with that boy?” demanded her father. “Where were you? So unbecoming of a Lady!” screeched her mother. “But Father – ,” Rosaline plead, only to be silenced by a slap to the face.

“Oh no,” muttered Trey. He began to back away from the scene.

“Oh no you don’t!” shouted Rion, as he broke into a run toward Trey. Trey wheeled and attempted to run, but Rion was already upon him. Rion gripped Trey’s arm and spun him back around. Trey writhed to get away. “Who do you think you are, boy?” demanded Rion. Trey fought to escape, but his older brother’s grip as too strong.

Trey swung his free arm at Rion, trying to escape. Rion dodged the blow, then tackled his brother, forcing him to the ground.

“Let me up!” shouted Trey. “Let go!”

“You are a fool, boy! How dare you steal away with Lord Donnal’s daughter!”

“Not a boy!” grunted Trey. “Let me up!”

Trey struggled under the weight of his brother. He would not escape without intervention, or a lucky hit. He freed an arm and swung again at his brother. Trey’s fist thumped weakly on Rion’s back. Rion retaliated with a sharp slap to Trey’s face. Trey tried to swing his arm again, but stopped when he felt an enormous hand take a grip of his hair.

Lord Donnal dragged Trey out from under Rion and to his feet by the hair. Trey screamed in pain as he was lifted.

Rion rose and gripped Trey’s arms behind him. Trey was forced to turn and face Lord Donnal, the irate father of the girl he hoped to champion one day.

“My daughter is not for you – or any other man – to court without my consent.” Lord Donnal wagged his finger in Trey’s face. “And you aren’t even a man! You are a child! You have no business stealing her from my sight.”

“I would only honor her – ” muttered Trey, breathless.

He was cut off by Lord Donnal’s sharp blow to his face. The back-handed slap to the face was made worse by the enormous rings worn by Donnal, which dug deeply into Trey’s flesh. Trey’s head snapped viciously to the side.

“Father!” Trey heard Rosaline’s voice carry across the hill slope.

Trey centered his head again, his eyes closed. That had hurt.

“I’ll not catch you with her again, boy,” scolded Lord Donnal.

“Aye, my Lord,” whispered Trey. He tasted blood in his mouth. He thought he noticed a loose tooth. Then he fell, and thought nothing more of it.

25 Days of Writing – Day 8

Day 8: What about their earlier school days? Write a scene of your character in grade school or middle school.

(This will be a little challenging, as my character did not attend school in the sense described above, but we’ll make do.)

————

Trey hefted the sword and glanced up at Sir Gilbert. Gilbert was poised with his own sword held in front of his body, ready for whatever Trey could hurl at him.

“Come on then, boy. Take this sword from my hand,” Gilbert commanded.

Trey glanced around him. The other boys, ages six through fifteen, watched him intently. Rion stood among the other boys, the eldest among them, smugly waiting to see how his younger brother would fare against their instructor. In a couple of weeks, Rion would undergo the trials and would become a full Mark-bearer.

Trey looked back at Gilbert and swallowed hard. He wondered if he could succeed.

Gilbert grinned, passing his weight from foot to foot, waiting. “Come on, boy.”

Trey glanced around again. On the hill beyond the practice yard he saw the young ladies gathering to watch. Rosaline would be there. He squinted to see her against the harsh backlight of the sky.

Smack!

Gilbert slapped Trey’s sword to the side, snapping the twelve-year-old boy back to reality, and nearly causing Trey to drop the sword. “I’m waiting, boy,” growled Gilbert with a smile.

Trey leapt into action, thinking himself capable of quickly disarming Sir Gilbert, and imagining the glory of having done so. Rosaline would be so very impressed.

Gilbert easily stepped aside and dodged and blocked every attempt Trey made. Gilbert laughed harder with each failed attempt. Trey’s frustration mounted and his technique became sloppy. Anger flushed through the boy, and he found himself fighting not to disarm, but to injure Sir Gilbert.

Gilbert, recognizing this, quickly put an end to the duel. With a few swipes of his sword and one well-placed boot, Gilbert disarmed the boy and left him sprawled on the ground.

“Control, boy. You need control. Strength and skill are nothing without control,” admonished Gilbert. Rion snorted. Obviously he felt that Trey had a stronger sense of self-worth than was deserved.

Gilbert stepped back and addressed the crowd of boys gathered there. “Enough for this day. Go to your chores and duties and remember: it is important to know your limitations and work within them, rather than to think yourself something that you are not.” Gilbert clapped his hands and strode away. The boys scattered.

Trey remained on the ground, thoroughly embarrassed and shamed. This day had been a disaster. He looked to the hill again, the girls were still there, gossiping among themselves. Rosaline had seen and heard everything. Yes, disaster indeed.