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greyias · 6 years

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Sweet Affectionate Moments Prompts - 15. A Hope We Don’t Get Caught Kiss

A dark Nar Shaddaa alleyway wasn’t exactly where Theron had wanted to spend Zhellday night with his girlfriend, but he hadn’t exactly had a choice in the matter. Partially because he needed to stay incognito to observe his target, but also partly because he had really tried to leave her behind.

Chatter in the underworld indicated that the coordinates to Odessen had been leaked and someone was attempting to sell them to the highest bidder. Lana was remaining behind on base to trace the source of their leak while Theron took it upon himself to bust up the sale before Arcann could get his hands on the location of their homebase.

But apparently Greyias Highwind was a particularly stubborn breed of Jedi, and wasn’t very adept at picking up the subtle hints Theron kept dropping (in the war room, on the walk to the shuttle, on the entire flight to Nar Shaddaa) that he was a professional and this was something he could handle on his own. It was his and Lana’s job to sniff out and handle these sort of threats, and it was the Commander’s job to handle the heavy hitters and the impossible missions no one else could pull off.

Also she didn’t blend in. Like at all. What with the giant colorful pauldrons doubling the size of her shoulders, a cape that liked to billow dramatically at the slightest flutter of a breeze, and her penchant to strike heroic poses without realizing it, she had a tendency to command attention wherever she went. It worked well when she needed to make a big rousing speech, less so when Theron needed to blend into the shadows to keep some opportunist from selling the location of their secret rebel base.

So right now the best he could do was try and make her hide behind a particularly odious dumpster as she scanned the crowd bustling through the Promenade with a very fancy set of macrobinoculars. Theron was pretty sure that he’d seen Deena Riss using something of the like when she had been facing off with the Shroud. He tried to suppress an unexpected burst of jealousy that his Jedi girlfriend had cooler spy tech than him, the professional spy, and instead tried to focus on narrowing down the bands on his audio feed. He’d had time to plant a few bugs in strategic locations throughout Lucent Square, but they still needed a little more calibration. Normally he’d have done a broad spectrum analysis beforehand so he didn’t have to try and manually tune everything, but there really hadn’t been time.

“Any movement yet?” He asked offhand, more focused on his datapad’s display and the monotonous drone in his ear than anything that was happening in the square.

“No. Are you sure this is where they’re supposed to be?”

He gave a small nod, still trying to tune out the competing frequencies. “Intel says there’s some sort of meeting that’s supposed to take place in front of that eyesore of a statue.”

“That seems a little harsh.”

“Have you seen the hat on top of it?”

“I have.”

“I rest my case.”

“I think the original hat is quite fetching up close,” she said haughtily, “especially in its actual color.”

Theron paused in his calibrations to give her a skeptical look. “Do I even want to ask how you know what Karagga’s hat looks like up close?”

“I was on the strike team that stormed his palace.”

“Of course you were.” Theron sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “let’s return to your poor taste in hats.”

“It’s a nice hat!”

“It’s a bell with a spike on it!”

“And it coordinated really well with his cape!”

“Let me guess, ‘it was a really nice cape’?”

“From the tone of your voice it doesn’t sound like you really believe that.”

Theron was starting to get an idea why she didn’t exactly have much variation in her wardrobe back on Odessen. Well, other than the fact that she had been frozen in carbonite for five years and lost most of her worldly possessions in the ensuing years. Okay, when he thought about it like that, maybe he shouldn’t make fun of her fashion sense so much—even if it was pretty objectively terrible.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little surprised that you have cape envy. For a Hutt gangster of all people.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, what with the jealous way you’ve been glaring at my macrobinoculars all evening.”

He was about to snap out a response, when a high-pitched noise shrieked in his earpiece. He winced and yanked it out of his ear. “What the hell?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t—”

Theron ignored her, and instead snatched the macrobinoculars from her hands. He didn’t listen to her indignant protest, more intent on scanning the Promenade. The bench where the meet was supposed to take place was still empty, but a tall Nikto had taken a keen interest in the column where Theron had hidden one of his bugs. He tapped a few of the intricate controls on the macrobinoculars, and they zoomed in on a device in the Nikto’s hands. It was a signal interceptor, a counterintelligence device that was able to piggyback onto encrypted transmissions. He let out a quiet curse.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone just found one of my bugs, and I think—oh yeah. Yeah, he’s turning this way. Quick follow my lead!”

“Your—”

The question didn’t even finish forming, ending in a startled squeak as Theron grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall. He also quickly stowed the macrobinoculars into a pocket so it wouldn’t be seen. It was Nar Shaddaa, so normally two shady figures skulking in an alleyway wouldn’t be an immediate cause for alarm. However anyone used to trading in stolen information would definitely be spooked by seeing a Jedi, which Grey so very obviously was. If the seller realized that the Alliance was on to him he’d probably disappear—and they might not be in a position to prevent the next sale. It was unclear if the Nikto was the buyer or seller, and if they took him down without knowing it might just make the situation even worse. Theron wasn’t sure if he could completely cover her up from the Nikto’s line of sight, but he did his best, crowding in close.

“What are you doing?”

Without any preamble, Theron captured her lips in his, silencing her just as the alleyway was filled with the sound of heavy footfalls. She caught on fairly quickly, returning the kiss with fervor, one arm braced against his chest, while the other speared through his hair. Normally he would have happily gotten lost in the soft feel of her lips pressing against his, in the way her tongue dancing against his lit a fire deep within his belly—but he couldn’t afford to let his attention wander. This was the real reason he had tried so hard to keep the personal and professional spheres of his life separate. It complicated things, divided his focus and made it hard to solely devote his mind to the task at hand. One slip at the wrong moment could prove deadly.

He tried to calculate how quickly he could pull his blaster and get a shot off as a long, tall shadow cut through the alleyway. Theron adjusted his stance, turning his back more to the entrance to the alleyway in an attempt to cover up those ridiculous pauldrons—even as the action made the back of his neck feel itchy. Through narrowed slits, he caught a reflection off the scratched up hull of a speeder heap in the back of the alley, and watched as the Nikto paused at the entrance to the alleyway. The alien seemed to spot the two of them with ease, and eyed the overzealous public display of affection with great scrutiny.

Theron was just starting to wonder if he needed to alter tactics, attempt to take out the tall alien with one of the stun darts in his bracers when the shadow at the entrance to the alleyway retreated, and the light from the Promenade flooded back in. He gave it a few more seconds just to be safe before he broke away from the kiss and peered over his shoulder to confirm that they were alone again.

He let out a sigh of relief, stepping away from the grimy wall and giving Grey some breathing room as well. Some of the hair had escaped her ponytail, and she looked a little breathless, fingers ghosting across her lips. Normally he’d take that as a compliment, maybe rib her a little, but he didn’t have time to indulge in that (or the effect their impromptu makeout session had on him) — and he brought the macrobinoculars back to bear.

The device quickly picked their target back up, and narrowed in as the tall alien made a quick holocall. The HUD flashed a readout as it tried to identify the frequency the call was on, but the conversation was too quick. Theron was able to make out a few words. His Nikto was rusty on the best of days, and even more so when he was trying to read lips. Something about a change of location and time.

“What’s he saying?” A quiet voice near his ear asked after a few moments.

He kept watching, catching the tail end of the conversation. Something about wanting more money. And a name: the Gilded Lily.

“I think,” Theron said carefully after a few moments, “we’re going to need to change our dinner plans.”

“We didn’t have dinner plans,” she said slowly.

“We do now.” Theron lowered the macrobinoculars and tossed a sidelong glance at the Jedi eyeing him curiously. “Although I’m going to have to get you out of that armor.”

“Excuse me?” Even under the neon lights he could see the color rush to her cheeks.

“And into something a bit more formal.” Theron tilted his head back across Lucent Square, and just barely out of sight was the glittering lights of the most prominent restaurant in the entire Promenade. “Looks like trouble is on the menu for tonight.”

Part Two: Dress Shopping!

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #otp: adorkable #date night #oc: greyias highwind #two seconds after he says that closing line #she asks him if he seriously just said that #then she asks if the formal wear includes hats #he emphatically tells her no #and then pouts because she doesn’t think his cheesy spy one-liners are cool #tropetastic date night continues (or rather begins)#swtor #fanfic #Anonymous #greyfic

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conscience-killer · 6 years

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2, 7, & 10 for Figure It Out!!!!!

2. Which scene was your favorite to write?

Oh, definitely chapter two′s opener. 1) Because I’m always a slut for a dream sequence and 2) because it allowed me to project a whole bunch of Issues™ onto the page. It was incredibly cathartic. ;) I’m also really partial to the rapid chatter during their ecstasy funtimes in chapter one, because I had one hell of a misspent youth and it was nice to finally write about being intoxicated to that degree, lol. For more on that, check the ref doc.

7. Who was your favorite character to write?

Oh, it’s fun as hell to explore Charlie’s headspace, because nothing is particularly too out there. I mean this is legitimately a guy that could beat a guy half to death with a dildo and not think anything of it, and it was great trying to vocalise that internal downward spiral before he does so. (Plus you can get away with ending a sentence on “…and shit”, right Riss? :p) I’m also enjoying what little of Frank I’ve written so far, and I’m looking forward to exploring more of that very soon. *wink wonk*

10. What are some facts readers may not know about?

There’s a shit-tonne of refs in this fic, like, more than usual which is a fucking lot. As per the doc. Sometimes I can’t help myself and sometimes I make them without even realising.

I wrote the bulk of my part of chapter 2 sweating my ass off by the pool in Cyprus last October. I had a beast of a brainwave as I was walking back to the apartment and I just kept walking faster going: “This is fucking GOLD”, until I finally got to start typing. An incredibly loud Greek chap almost got beat to a pulp with my tablet cos it was hard to concentrate and I needed to put brain to paper like Right Now. Luckily he buggered off eventually. 😂

Another fact is: Riss wrote an amazing section from Dennis’ POV for chapter one, but we had to scrap it because it was running long already, and I wanted to keep that chapter just between Charlie and Dee. That section has been shelved for a predetermined outing. :)

#amandajuly81 #ask #figure it out #ao3

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je-suis-clarisse · 4 years

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Capture (Part 2)

England: Howard Stark sat at his desk, uncharacteristically quiet. Across from him sat Peggy Carter, her hands folded in her lap. Neither was looking forward to the meeting they were having today. Howard had made the phone call whilst Peggy had begun the investigation into Clarisse du Volde's disappearance. Given her work during the first World War and the Civil War, how she had stuck it out to the end; they knew she wouldn't abandon her post to leave and lead a life of luxury, which she could have easily done. She had been a spy and also a nurse; she had done work with the resistance. Clarisse wanted to help people and she did so, no matter the cost to herself. Peggy knew that Elijah had lectured his good hearted daughter on her position. He hadn't broken through her thick head, but she had clearly not changed his position about offering himself up to help with the war effort. Like father, like daughter. It was Peg who saw Elijah Mikaelson walk in and as he did so, she stood up. Howard followed suit. If Elijah was surprised, he didn’t say so. He was a man known for keeping his head and his emotions in check. However, Peggy knew that this wouldn’t go well. Not when they told him that Clarisse was a prisoner of war. They’d discussed the possibility of her death, but Peggy surmised that since Hitler was curious about the occult and the possibility of immortality, he would keep her alive. “If anyone can survive, it'd be her," Howard mused. "She's like Steve. Wily and spirited. Always thinking." He was always trying to consider the positives. He'd put his fortune on it. Still, he knew they were up against huge odds. Odds that, at this point, were not in their favor. Peggy was the realist but she wasn't about to burst Howard's high hopes. Nor did she want to face the possibility that the cheerful woman would never bother her again. “Old friend, how are you?” Howard asked, shaking Elijah’s hand as he came into the room, taking his hat and setting it and his jacket on the coat rack. “I’m well enough. But I suspect that since I’m here, I’m about to hear something I don’t particularly want to hear,” Elijah replied, looking at the both of them. Taking a seat, he brought his left ankle to his right knee, smiling appreciatively as Howard poured him a drink. Bourbon, Elijah nodded approvingly as he raised it to his lips. He might be a millennia old, but he did appreciate Stark's expensive and refined taste. Howard considered how to tell him when Peggy just put the ring down in front of the Original Vampire. As he looked over at her, he was once again in awe of the strength she displayed. If Peggy was frightened, Howard would never know it for her face was a portrait of mystery. For a moment, she paused, expecting something explosive. Instead, Elijah's movement was precise and fierce; much like a predator about to pounce. His eyes darkened for a moment as he looked to the ring, lifting it up and holding it between his fingers. As he looked at the engraving inside of it, he pressed his lips together and Elijah closed his eyes. There was a lethal edge to his voice as he spoke, yet Peggy also recognized a slight hitch, the one that revealed a minuscule amount of fear. Not remarking upon it, nor assuring him that they'd have it under control, Peg let him break the silence. “Where did you find this?” “It was brought to us by one of the nurses that worked with Clarisse,” Howard spoke up, finally finding his voice. “She was taken after her shift was ending. We suspect she dropped it as a sign to us...and in turn, you.” “I told her to be careful…” Elijah murmured under his breath. If his temper was flaring, he kept it under a cool exterior. Peggy admired that. There had only been one moment where she wondered if he would break. Deep down, she wished Risse would come bounding in the door, her green eyes lively with her usual joie de vivre, but there was no chance of that. 'You'll keep me apprised?'' Elijah asked, his voice still that terrifying tone of calm, as he finished his bourbon and set the glass down. "Of course," Peggy responded. Already her mind was working in twenty different directions. Namely how to keep Elijah from marching into Germany and ripping the heart out of anyone who looked at him wrong. Elijah Mikaelson squared his shoulders as he took his hat and coat and headed out the way he came in, though his rage was white hot. Keeping her ring close and the small photograph of her in his billfold, Elijah began to plot. To Germany he'd go. But this required thought and a great deal of precision. Not to mention, stealth. As he climbed into the back of the car, telling his driver where to go, he drew out the photograph and looked at her smiling visage whilst he gave a smirk. It had been a rare moment of playfulness where he indulged her by posing for a few pictures. On the back was her calligraphic handwriting, 'Papa, I love you more than I do Clark Gable! Always and forever, your Risse.' With a tremor to his voice, Elijah put the picture away and murmured, "I will find you, Risse. I promise." Somewhere in Berlin. "Oh good, you're awake." Opening up her eyes, Clarisse looked around. She was in a cell. Slowly rising up, she braced herself on the wall, willing the world to stop spinning. Every part of her body ached and she didn't even think about what had been done to her. She had no doubt that had she been aware. She would have ripped the offenders to shreds. She rubbed her finger, missing the feeling of gold on her finger. She hoped by now someone had turned it in. She didn't dare hope for a quick rescue, but she hoped someone would be aware. Her mind went to Elijah and she knew that beneath his fury, he'd be worried sick. She liked to think she knew him well. Still, thinking of him made her sad and she had to stop thinking of him before she began to cry. Her hand went to her neck and at least her necklace was still on. "Where am I?" She asked, eyes settling on the fellow across from her. "Berlin. We're Die Kuriositäten des Führers." She raised a brow. The Fuhrer's Curiosities. How...lovely. To be reduced to a sideshow act, essentially. "They mean to figure out what makes us immortal." He continued. "They exploit our weakness, so I hope you're tougher than you look. It gets very lonely here. The girl who stayed in that cell before you died. I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but I think you should probably know." "What are you? And who are you?" "You can't tell? I'm a werewolf. My name is Silas. I’m a Polish Jew, so if you don’t want to talk to me, I understand," he spoke to her, explaining the accent that she hadn’t been quite able to place. Still, she granted him a smile. Why that mattered, she just didn’t understand. Christ himself had been a Jew; would Hitler have put him in a camp too? She had many questions. Perhaps in her time here, she and Silas could distract themselves by asking the unanswerable. Still, he was waiting for her reaction, and she did so. "I’m Clarisse. I’m a Vampire and I don’t care that you’re Jewish," she replied, earning a smile back from him. "I could tell. You tried to bite the guard when they first brought you in. They gave you a sedative and something else. That was three days ago." Silas continued, reaching through the bars to shake her hand, which she met readily. Her eyes widened at that. Three days past? She sighed, pushing her hair back out of her face and sat down, doing so in a position where they could keep talking. At least she wasn’t alone in this ordeal. They spent more time deep in conversation, learning more about Silas and his life. He had been pulled from the Auschwitz camp and brought here. Her heart went out to him and she would have hugged him if she were able to. He chattered on and she learned about Hitler and his desire to become immortal. “He wants, quite literally, to take over the world,” Silas mused. “May that never happen!” Clarisse agreed and kept this all to her mind, trying to remember it all, so she could pass it along to Peggy. This fellow was worse than even Red Skull, she was certain of this. Or perhaps just on par. It didn’t make sense to her that men such as this could move up the ranks and become what they had. Why? And why had the world turned a blind eye to the plight of the suffering? War was a blight on humanity. It often solved nothing. For every dictator brought down, another rose up in their place. It was a vicious cycle. As she was about to respond, two of the SS marched in, pulling her out. "I can walk on my own," Clarisse hissed at them, wrenching her arms from their grips. It made no sense to run yet--she had no idea where she was going to go. At the very least, she would have to endure a week here; learn the ins and out, get to know those working here, and to learn the layout of the building. To do so prematurely would only serve as a mistake and they would never allow her to make the same mistake twice. Walking with them to wherever, she raised a brow as they entered the laboratory, scowling as they made her sit down in the most uncomfortable chair she'd ever sat in. If they were going to torture her, they had certainly picked the right chair to do so. However, she decided quickly to not cooperate, but also not to do anything to enrage them. She ultimately had what they wanted. They couldn't kill her--rather, it would be stupid to kill her. “We have done our research on you,” the woman spoke, looking to Clarisse. To her consternation, Clarisse simply raised a brow and remained silent. She would not give her the satisfaction of confirming whether her research was right or wrong. She was an actress. This was her moment to shine. Even if her talents were being wasted upon these tossers. These were the same people who would no longer hire Marlene Deitrich for God's sake! She wouldn't waste a bit of her talent on them. (Not that she was as good as Deitrich or Garbo or any of them.) “Born in 1772, the youngest of four living children. Your mother was pregnant several times but only had a few live births. And you.. you're not even a true Du Volde. You are...how would they have put it? A bâtard. Your true father was Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orléans. He was something of a libertine--just in case you didn't know. Your mother probably didn’t even know. When we took your blood, we did some testing." Clarisse stayed silent, not saying a word in response, though the word was offensive. Hearing the news of her true parentage was surprising, but she still kept her face blank. She refused to respond to anything they told her. She would not. If they thought by insulting her mother they’d get a rise out of her, they’d be disappointed. Though, she was surprised at the mention of Louis Philippe. She had never met him but had heard of him. He had been beheaded the month after Marie Antoinette. His own relatives and he had voiced support for the family to die. Still, she was curious as to how Vivian and his paths crossed. She had always joked she was royalty. Hearing this fact only confirmed it now, that she was right. Still, it was moot now. She listened as they continued to speak of her human life. It amazed her how much they actually had right. It was finally when they were silent that she spoke. “What a fascinating biography you’ve concocted,” she told them using some of the German she knew. “And you were turned in 1791.” The woman folded her arms over her chest. Clarisse couldn’t help but think she might have been attractive save for the black uniform and swastika emblazoned on it. If this was the master race, count her out. She was quite content to be an enemy of the Reich. For this, she went silent again. She did not want to speak of it, nor confirm it. Still, in those three days of unconsciousness, she supposed they’d confirmed what she wasn’t speaking of. The male gripped her chin suddenly, forcing her to look up at him and despite it not being ladylike, she spat in his eye. When he backhanded her, she laughed. If they wanted her to be the monster that they thought she was? Very well. “Was that meant to hurt?” she asked, smirking as he rubbed at his hand, cursing under his breath in German. “I’ve had children hit harder.” Clarisse leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and looking around her surroundings more fully. It was a laboratory, one where instead of animal testing, they tested on herself and other immortal beings. She looked around for a telephone but didn’t find one, much to her chagrin. Their frustration was all too apparent as they strapped her into the chair, making it damn near impossible to break out. “We will find out how you became immortal,” The woman snarled. Clarisse bit on her bottom lip, feeling her fang make her bleed slightly. She was hungry. The scent of the woman before her was singing to the vampire, who could feel her eyes darkening and she closed her eyes once more, quashing her hunger for now. It was a mistake she wouldn't make again, because in the moments of her keeping her eyes shut, curtains were thrown back and the heat of the sun touched her unprotected skin for the first time in over a century. As they let the sunlight fill the room, despite the utter agony of her flesh burning, Clarisse refused to scream. The scent of her own charred flesh filled the place and howls could be heard all throughout. For a moment she wondered why, when she realized, she smelled like cooked meat. The wolves were likely starving. Cringing at the idea that she might be their meal, she surmised it to be a better fate than being a Nazi plaything. Still, the pain was agonizing and she couldn’t even think straight. Seeing the two officials standing and taking notes enraged her to no end. They truly were monsters. How anyone could mistake her for a monster, she had no idea. But she was not that. No. She refused to accept that. She never could tolerate seeing someone suffer. But they thrived on it. If this was what being one of the Fuhrer’s ‘curiosities’ entailed, she would have no problem telling him to fuck right off. (She issued a silent apology to Elijah, who told her such coarse language should never leave her.) When the sun began to sink low in the sky once more, the window was once again covered and blessed darkness surrounded Clarisse. They left her in the chair, going off to eat or to do whatever it was they were meant to. Her body was throbbing from the burns and she momentarily ached for the true death to come and claim her but that would be a betrayal to those who loved her and those she loved. She would endure. It was as simple as that. Besides, there were people out there who needed her help. Sitting idly would never do. When someone came and carried her back to her cell, she was amused to find that he had garlic on him and a silver crucifix at his throat. As if those things would stop her if she really meant to attack him. He lay her down gently and Clarisse was surprised, but she remained silent. The young man marched out and left a light on, that didn't cast much in the way but a lone yellow beam. "I am glad you're back," Silas spoke softly. "I am sorry you're in pain. I'd offer you my blood, but I think it would hurt you." "It would," she finally spoke after hours of silence. "But the thought is kind. However, I never leave home unprepared." Drawing off her necklace, pleased to find it still hanging around her neck, she paused before raising the vial of blood up. "That's handy!" Silas whispered to her and Risse chuckled for the first time in days. "My father told me to keep it in case of emergencies," she whispered back, opening it and downing the contents. It was one of a few vials she always kept on her person. She was simply grateful that they had not stripped her. Though they'd gone out of fashion some four decades prior, Clarisse was fond of her whalebone corsets. She'd gotten in the habit of wearing them again whenever she was on the field. Bullets ricocheted off the bone and the corset made it easy to hide things. In this case, several vials of blood. She would have to preserve them, using them only when she was desperate. But tonight, she would use this one. Downing the contents, she gasped feeling strength course through her frame, her burned flesh healing. She was as ever, appreciative. Even though he wasn't here, Elijah was taking care of her. Looking over at Silas, her emerald eyes shining in the dim light. "I know there are people probably out looking for me. But I'm determined to break loose before they get here. You in?" She asked, her smile widening when Silas agreed. "Then, let's get to plotting. Tell me everything you know."

#my writing

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storyboxlibrary · 5 years

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Author Zanni Louise on Starting School survival strategies!

It’s a new school year in Australia. Last year, I was sending both my girls off to big school for the first time. It was emotional. But they coped better than I did! I still remember my little one disappearing into the classroom, no time for goodbyes. Meanwhile, I stood outside the room, my eyes filled with tears, knowing that I’d reached the end of an era. No more kids at home.

I rattled around the house for a while, wondering what to do with myself. When I picked her up that afternoon, it was all smiles and chatter. I still can’t believe it was only a year ago. How quickly you get used to a new kind of normal. All kids (and parents) have different thoughts and feelings about starting school. Lucky for us parents, we can access our online forums for advice. We also have access to some wonderful children’s books.

A few years ago, I wrote the first TIGGY AND THE MAGIC PAINTBRUSH story, and decided that starting school was the biggest event in my daughter’s life so far, so would make a good topic for the book. It would also give me an excuse to introduce the other characters in Tiggy’s class.

Observing my daughter made me realise that kids don’t have a single emotion about starting school - they have a plethora. A spectrum, even. Emotions range from giddy, excited, nervous, sad, anxious … and so on. When I visit schools, I ask kids if they can remember how they felt starting school. Most can, and again, most have a range of emotions around the experience. I wanted to tap into this with ‘A School Day Smile’. I wanted to show that being shy and brave simultaneously is possible. So is being excited and nervous.

I also wanted to explore kids’ resilience, and some of the strategies kids use when getting used to an unfamiliar environment. Kids are awesome. I love celebrating that in my stories.

You can watch ‘A School Day Smile’ here.

Two new Tiggy books: ‘A Very Wobbly Tooth’ and ‘A Hide-And-Seek Sleepover’ are released this April with Hardie Grant Egmont.

I tapped into my online communities, and asked parents how they helped their kids adjust to starting school. These wonderful people are happy for me to share their wisdom with you here.

First day of school wisdom from parents “Remember that, even if they cry, they’ll be fine once you leave. Also, go and walk through the school while it’s empty, so they can get used to the size of the buildings.” Pamela Freeman. “Create a routine for the morning that you’re going to be happy to continue with throughout their school life. Don’t pepper them with questions as soon as they get through the front door at the end of the day. Give them downtime. Asking a couple of questions over dinner is a good way to instigate a conversation. What was your favourite thing today? What are you looking forward to most tomorrow?” Ruth Devine. “An extra half hour on the first morning means less hurry and stress for everyone.” Christina Loeve. “Don’t worry about homework. Just cuddle them, feed them and listen to them when they get home.” Hannah Robertson. “Be prepared to feel anxious! But it settles down.” Jenna Shelley. “Make time to volunteer at the school – you will meet a lot of wonderful people as well as get to know your child’s new friends and teachers.” Caz Greene. “Check that they can open the little lunch boxes that you give them. Some have super tough latches that even I struggle to click open.” Lucy Estela. “Volunteering in your child’s classroom is great because you get a real feel for what it’s like for them all day, what the teacher is like, what various kids in the class are like (they’ll talk about their classmates at home).” Amelia McInerney. “Morning and after school routines have worked well for our family. What’s more, we talk about everything – sometimes what our child has ‘done’ is not as important as what they felt.” Simone Blom. “Start building a community straight away.” Lauren Jackman. “Read lovely picture books about starting school. They can help them to feel prepared and give them a sense of what to expect.” Holly Bidwell. “Do everything possible to celebrate the little wins in the big pond of school life.” Julie Grasso. “Packing a ‘school lunch’ in the holidays to ensure everyone can open their new lunch boxes and containers etc. is very helpful. And velcro fasteners for shoes!” Jacinta Froud. “Practice run of the toilets! Or public toilet lock practice … Getting ready routine list on the fridge and practice run. Starting school books. Drawing a matching heart button on my hand and hers comforted her – press and each other will feel the love.” Michelle Wanasundera. “If they need a day off and you’re able to be there don’t worry about what everyone else will think. Trust your parenting style.” Penelope Pratley. “Be prepared for extra tiredness and crankiness to begin with. And if they are excited, expect that to wear off within a couple of weeks. It takes time for them to settle into a routine and cope with the demands of school, so it’s a good idea not to do any extra-curricular activities for the first term or two.” Pamela Uekerman. “Teachers are your teammates.” Artelle Lenthall. “Draw a picture on the brown lunch bag each day with a little motivating message like ‘You’re a star!’” Kim Langfield. “Don’t stress about it too much as children pick up on how parents are feeling.” Katja Bertazzo. “After a long, hot summer wearing thongs, try and wear new school shoes an hour a day. Blisters and boo boos on your first day of school, on top of everything else … not good.” Macarena Smartt “Buy an extra hat and leave it in the car. Label everything, even undies.” Jo Staker. “From a primary school principal’s perspective, I always encourage the prep parents not to do everything for their children (carrying school bags in, unpacking their readers and getting their desks at up etc).” Riss Leung. “Advice for parents: be brave! Smiles and cuddles for your kiddies, ugly cries for after school drop-off.” Renee Price. “New routine for the family with a child starting big school for the first time will take time to settle. I’d give it at least term 1, if not longer for things to settle down.” Katrina McKelvey. “I put a little smiley love heart note in their lunch box so they get a surprise at snack time.” Rosalie Street. “Another way to connect at the end of the day is to ask what their favourite thing for that day was rather than ‘what did you do today?’” Cate Whittle. “Arrive for pickup a little early so you have time to meet and get to know the other parents/carers. This is useful in developing a support/friend network for you and your child. There’s a wealth of knowledge and experience among the parent/carer network, and future friends to be made.” Julie Murphy. “1. Keep the first term free of most other extra curricular things as they get used to the routine of school. 2. Don’t be surprised by Week 6 of the first term they have a complete melt down, it is completely normal as exhaustion sets in and the reality that school is now life 3. On the first day, don’t linger. Say goodbye on a positive note and leave… it’s ok to have a little cry in the car but don’t let them see it!” Anna Partridge. “My youngest is starting this year & we’ve been reading Meredith Costaintain’s My First Day of School; Davina Bell’s Lemonade Jones & Barbara Park’s Junie B Jones. Lots of opportunities to have a laugh & a bit of a chat about expectations. A Novel Prescription for Kindergarteners!” Zewlan Moor. “Be prepared to feel like they’ve just joined the army and then realize that your child is more capable than you would ever think!” Bethany Tyson. — Thank you, parents, for all your wonderful advice! I hope it helps … Will be thinking of all those littlies, with their big backpacks, and black school shoes very soon! Oh, and all the crying mums. Don’t worry. I know all about it!

Zanni Louise has published several picture books, an early reader series and has a junior fiction series coming out in 2019. She is passionate about inspiring kids and their adults to write, and read. Learn more about Zanni’s books and workshops at www.zannilouise.com.

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