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fire-the-headcanons · 5 years

Text

Follow the Beacon Summer—Summertime

[If you don’t like angst, go ahead and start here! Otherwise, here’s a link to the Masterpost. A fun chapter this time.]

Summer squinted through the rifle’s scope at the apparently deserted building, searching each window for any sign of movement. Of course, if a teacher had come in on Saturday to grade papers they’d hardly be pacing around their classrooms, but at least none of the lights were on.

Back on the field, preparations for the dance were now well underway. She took a few seconds to locate her mother and Huang, helping Tai and a few other students put up the large tents near the cafeteria doors. All busy and distracted.

Summer spun the rifle, extending Gungnir into spear form with a satisfying click. A twist and a shove let the shaft separate from the gun. Clamping the harpoon between her teeth, she slotted in the special Dust magazine she’d prepared.

It wasn’t a difficult shot. A huge banner stretched over the cafeteria doors, taped to the gutter. She took aim at the far side and fired, the modified ice round striking the tape dead center and freezing into a ball about the size of her fist.

Nobody on the field batted an eye at the sound of the rifle discharge, and she hadn’t expected them to. Gunfire was just background noise at a combat school like Signal, even on a Saturday. Three other shots had echoed over the grounds by the time the ice melted enough to fall from the wall, taking the soggy tape off with it. The banner fluttered down, still anchored on one side, to hang over the security camera on the corner.

Summer grinned and let the harpoon drop from her teeth into her hand. It glided into the rifle’s barrel with ease, and she aimed over the building before pressing the button on the stock. The Dust cores in the rifle and arrow glowed to life, repulsing each other, and she braced against the gun to keep it from flying in the opposite direction. The half-spear arced into the air, stabilizer fins popping from the shaft as soon as it left the barrel, and disappeared onto the school roof.

Perfect.

Her mother emerged from the tents carrying a stepladder toward the banner, and Tai sprang forward to stall. At best, they had a minute before the security camera was clear. Summer tossed her rifle into the box of tablecloths she’d been sent to retrieve and stepped from the bushes onto the sidewalk. Nobody spared her a glance as she strode right up to the wall and back out of sight of the field.

Around the corner, the ladder rattled under her mom‘s footsteps. “Ah, the tape’s wet. Tai, could you grab some more?”

“Sure, Mrs. Rose.”

The banner twitched as her mom started to pull it back into place. Summer dropped the box, grabbed the rifle, and activated the Dust cores again—this time to attract. The gun nearly leapt from her hands, but she was ready and tightened her grip as she flew into the air. The angle of attraction threatened to drag her against the brick, but she ran up the side of the building using Gungnir like a rappelling line.

Below her, the camera emerged as her mother dragged the banner away, but she rolled onto the roof out of sight. She retrieved the arrow and returned it to the rifle, folding her weapon to its most compact form before sliding it down the back of her hoodie. It took a moment to get it to clip to the magnetic holster, but finally it caught with a soft click and Summer moved for the entrance.

The door opened without trouble, and she peeled the tape from the latch before slipping inside and letting it lock behind her. No cameras in the emergency stairwell, luckily, though one pointed at the ground floor exit. Summer headed down to the second floor instead, and gave the handle a slow and tentative push. It still creaked louder than she liked.

Other than the faint growls of captive Grimm in a classroom, the hallway was silent and deserted. If the door opened more than a foot the cameras would catch it, but she’d always been on the small side. It wasn’t hard to squeeze through. The bank of lockers that ran right up to the doorframe provided a blind spot—she jumped, grabbed the top, and pulled herself up as quietly as she could manage. No one came tearing out of the classrooms at the sound of wobbling metal, though the Grimm growled a little louder as they sensed her nerves.

Her boots on the locker roofs sounded almost like swords clanging together, but she made it to the next classroom without falling from the narrow ledge or alerting anyone. Another door she could only open a crack waited at the other end.

This room was unique, with windows into the courtyard that were nearly blocked by a large tree. Summer slid to the floor and inched forward along the wall to the blind spot behind the teacher’s desk. It was easy to climb from the window to a sturdy branch and make her way to the ground. Leaves shielded her from the camera at the far end of the yard, and any movement would be passed off as a gust of wind.

It was even easier to climb back in through the window to the headmaster’s office, always left unlocked. No cameras either, thanks to the same employee privacy law that provided a blind spot behind the desk upstairs. Summer exhaled with satisfaction as she sat in the grand leather chair.

And nearly fell out of it again as the phone rang.

Just someone leaving a message. She shook herself mentally. The computer snapped awake at her touch, demanding a password. Summer grinned and started to type.

SUMM3RTAIM3.

It opened instantly, and she leaned back in the chair with a delighted smile. What should she dig through first? …His travel arrangements would probably still be in his email, if the state of his office at home was anything to go by. She clicked on the application.

Password:

“Oh, come on, who logs out of their email?!” She slapped the desk and tried again. SUMM3RTAIM3.

Incorrect password.

Just perfect. The phone wasn’t helping her think either. “You’ve reached the office of Headmaster Azraq of Signal Academy, please leave a message...”

She scowled and typed BALT515.

Incorrect password.

She didn’t know any others. Maybe she should go through his latest documents instead? They were a lot less likely to hold anything useful...

There was one more thing she could try. She started to type, ST3RLINGRO—

“Summer, knock it off.”

She froze, hands hovering over the keyboard, staring at the phone in abject horror. “B-Balt?” her voice squeaked so badly she winced.

“Come on, pick up.” He didn’t sound mad, but he definitely wasn’t happy either. “Azraq set up the webcam, I can see you in there.”

Summer hung her head and pressed the button. “Hi, Uncle Balt.”

“I thought you talked about this,” the desk speaker said.

“I didn’t get to talk,” she grumbled, leaning back and kicking at the floor so the chair spun slowly. “They did all the talking. I just want to know what they’re hiding from us!”

“It’s Huntsman business. Summer, they don’t tell me about their secret missions either.”

She paused, halfway through her second rotation. “…What, really?”

“I love Azraq and I trust his judgement. And he tells me what I need to know, even when Ozpin disapproves.”

Ozpin.

A wild grin stole its way over her face as she stared at the phone in disbelief. She’d been hoping to get an imprecise location, or more cryptic and coded messages. Maybe today hadn’t been a total loss. “Ozpin?“ she repeated. The new headmaster of Beacon Academy, the mysterious academic that everyone joked was too young to attend the school, let alone run it? The one that had been appointed amid whispers of nepotism and conspiracy? That Ozpin?

The line went silent. And then very...not silent.

“Swear jar, Uncle Balt!” Summer laughed, logging out of the computer and ending the call. This was worth getting grounded.

Well, no point in hiding now. She walked right out of the office, around the corner, and out the front door.

“Summer? Where were you? I thought you were helping them set up for the dance on the back lawn!” her mom demanded, nearly dropping the box of tablecloths Summer had abandoned earlier.

“Azraq’s office.” She didn’t bother to hide her grin.

Tai stared at her, disbelieving. “What happened to stealth?!”

“Were you involved with this?” Huang scowled down at him.

“No, definitely not.”

He shook his head, almost laughing. “I ought to ground you.”

“You broke into the school?” her mom demanded. “We told you he was leaving for a classified mission, and you broke into his office?!“

“No! Calm down! The doors were unlocked, so I just…walked in.”

Her mom didn’t look convinced, but she also had no way of knowing Summer had spent the better part of two years figuring out that route through the security cameras. “You’re going to make your uncles a batch of apology cookies, and then you’re grounded for a month.”

That was way too much! “Mom!“

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Claret,” Huang growled at Tai.

His jaw dropped. “Dad, come on! We’ll miss the dance!”

“Then you two shouldn’t argue if you want to convince us to let you go.” Her mom folded her arms. Summer and Tai both grumbled acknowledgement, and the four of them headed back toward the field.

Is Uncle Azraq even going to be home in time for the party? Wait. Maybe— “Is Uncle Azraq even going to be home from Solitas in time?” she blurted.

“Nice try, kiddo,” Huang said with a glare.

Summer grinned. “So he’s not in Solitas.”

Her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the Xiao Longs. “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to convince me to let you go to the dance, Summer.”

“I wasn’t going anyway,” she said. “Sorry, Tai! Balt caught me. They rigged the webcam. See you Monday!”

“Yeah, sure,” he sighed. Behind him, Huang looked like he wanted to laugh.

[Looks like Qrow isn’t the only Grimm Reaper fan in Team STRQ...I couldn’t resist giving Summer a weapon that also took inspiration from Maria’s. The gravity Dust cores are awesome and I’m kind of sad the show probably won’t utilize them more]

Next Chapter: Taiyang—Baking the Rules

#rwby #roosterteeth #strq #team strq #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #rwby fanfiction #follow the beacon #my fic #mine

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anonimo-infinito · 5 years

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Yeyeyeyeyey!!! Here. I translated it (Of course I used google translate so... um... don’t expect too much lol)

Original: https://poder-de-las-palabras.tumblr.com/post/182530605067/wooo-un-cuento-que-termin%C3%A9-ayer-y-que-va-directo

The River

After the disappearance of Nicole Hernandez, panic flooded in the most prestigious boarding school of young ladies. It was exasperating, for teachers and students, to see how the police continually interrupted the classes to get and interrogate a few of my classmates.

Nicole was the almost stereotypical perfect girl: perfect grades, kind, popular, with all the boys from the neighboring boarding school chasing her every day, loved by everyone (teachers and classmates) and with an incredible culinary sense - in fact, from both interned, nothing was served at the table that she hadn’t tried before. And I say almost because, when you think of girls like her, you imagine the white and tall blond girl with blue eyes, a fine nose, a role model, etc., etcetera. However, it was not like that, in fact, it was the opposite: she was simple, the shortest of all of the students, barely visible in a crowd (except for her high ponytail), curly black hair, she was chubby as every free time she had, she used it to buy one or another craving, but it has to be said, she didn’t care, her self-esteem was as high as her grades; sports was not for her, she was always the last one running, the one that failed blaying basketball and the one that missed the soccer ball before kicking it. Nicole had a remarkable feature, it was the characteristic that made everyone be enchanted by her: her voice; soft and sweet, like honey and a summer breeze, it is not a description that I do, it is an institutional agreement, however, it is true, her voice (and her hair) brought me crazy.

Everyone knew her, there was no one that didn’t know at least her name. Nicole was in charge of welcoming the new ones, participating as judge in competitions and was one of the main organizers of the extracurricular activities.

She and I shared the love of nature; she, on one hand, enjoyed it as a hobby while I, on the other, devoted all my study and thought to the idea of becoming a botanist. We met by accident one night planned by destiny, and I don’t refer to “destiny” as a cheesy, I speak of destiny as a written fact, predetermined otherwise it would have been impossible to know each other -the only moment in which the two schools could They lived on weekends, only five hours (Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon, with a meal and rest in the garden) and, really, little was the coexistence, if only one to two mixed groups talking amicably , but the others as far away as they could.

As I was saying, Nicole and I found ourselves at the entrance of a cave passing the river. It was the second week and we both had broken the first rules of the boarding school. “The walks through the garden beyond the established limits will be punished with the expulsion from the school” and “any student outside the institute’s facilities more than 9:30 p.m. will be punished with the suspension of classes for one more week. cleaning of said facilities ”. But this, none of us cared. I discovered Nicole with a flashlight in her mouth, drawing lienas in a notebook; his drawing skills were not good, but he could capture the structures of what he drew. She jumped when I approached her from behind, thinking that the ranger had caught her. We spent all that night talking about our tastes and, she, just told me that she wanted to go into the different caves that were distributed in the territory of the school, believing to find some other evidence of ancient civilization.

The escapades continued and went from being weekly to practically daily. It was our shared space and, like a classic tale of love, I could say that I fell in love; However, more than love was admiration and devotion to her. I respected her deeply. Also, Nicole, she became the only person with whom I felt safe.

A few days after the complaint of his disappearance, a first-grade girl found a corpse on the shore of the lake while doing a practice for a subject; He shouted such a shout that he alerted both institutes and the gossip ran before the police arrived to see the scene.

And the endless questionnaires began.

At first I thought they would call me, but nobody really knew about our escapades, much less that we talked to each other. In fact, Nicole herself had told me that she would prefer not to tell anyone about me, since she felt that this would make recesses weird because her friends would playfully mock our friendship.

The police spoke with the director to find out who Nicole used to relate to, clearly, the director replied that her friends were the most popular girls at school. However, they also called a girl named Lauren, whom Nicole used to talk to often; according to her friends they were not so close and only helped each other to study, but I knew that Lauren knew each and every one of Nicole's secrets, in a few months they had become the best friends and they did almost everything together. Lauren commented that not only did she have friends at the Señoritas Institute, but also that there was a group of boys she used to hang out with. And so the police came to the building where I was.

Shortly after the in-depth investigation, those responsible for it, interrupted one of my classes for the first time and I felt that my heart would pop out of my mouth. Nicole was my friend, of course she wanted them to know what had happened to her, her parents had a right to know, just like Lauren, but she did not know if she would have the courage to talk to cops about anything about her. For the simple fact that our escapades were forbidden, not only would they consider me the suspect number one and a cold-blooded killer, but they would also expel me from school and any chance to get on with my school life. When the list of names was finished, I was able to breathe again, although, although I tried to return my attention to the class, my mind was elsewhere.

The investigation ended, almost a month after his complaint, with the police taking Matias Flores.

It would make sense that the police had hired him as Nicole's suspect and killer. She herself, by the way she referred to him, seemed scared of his presence.

That night, that of the supermoon, that of the departure that we had planned in advance to visit a cave slightly further away than the rest, she had not wanted to go. At the entrance to the forest he told me that he had spoken with Matías, he wanted to go out with her and, as we all know in both institutes, he does not have the fame of the gentleman if not the opposite. Nicole told me that they had argued because she had no interest in being with him, and that when she made a move to leave, he grabbed her arm and approached her violently, hurting her. If Lauren had not intervened, Nicole was afraid that Matthias might have done her some harm.

I told him that to clear it, we could go to the caves before it was done later and, with my continuous insistence, finally my wish was granted.

We crossed the first meters of tall, wooded trees, the fireflies and dragonflies met where it was in the river and illuminated, along with our lanterns, the narrow trunk that was on the bridge. We were moving away more and more from the limits to which we were accustomed. At first we thought we were going in a good direction, however, after wandering a few minutes, we felt completely disoriented, and it was, when deciding to retrace our steps, when it started to rain.

We kept silent, as if we were afraid that through sound we would meet another person who was not the other. Suddenly a light, which was not from the moon or our lanterns, rotated on the floor. "The ranger" I thought. Next, we turned off our light source and hid behind trees to see if we lost the caregiver, maintaining the hope that he had not seen us.

"Whoever it is, get out," he said in his thick voice.

We looked at each other terrified, but both, as if we read our minds, counted to three and we left running, letting the moon guide our steps. The man kept hurrying us in his step and ours too. We ended up running through the muddy forest; even without being able to see well where we were going, because the rain made it impossible to distinguish that there were three steps away. After a while of chase, we could hear the river running, as well as see the shadow of what the bridge was.

I quickened my step, with the idea in my head that nobody should know that I was out until so late. With the greatest possible care, I went through the trunk that creaked under my feet. I was so wet that I could not tell if the water that was wetting my sneakers was from the river or from the rain that fell on us. I stumbled over the bridge and kept running when a scream sounded in the forest.

"Nicole," I thought. I stopped dead and it seemed like everything else too.

Time came back to life and I fled from where I had come from, without bothering to meet the ranger. I heard the river again -bravo and scandalous- as well as gasps of unbridled effort to escape certain death.

"Nico!" I yelled and she responded with another cry for help so I could locate her. The force with which the raindrops fell had diminished considerably, so that I could already distinguish where I was. My friend had slid off the trunk and was holding on to the unstable land covered with wet leaves. The river had grown enough to cover Nicole's knees, preventing her from doing more than just grabbing and praying that the river would not continue to grow.

With my heart about to come out of my chest, I ran to the nearest tree with low branches; I tried to start one to help her climb. No tree gave way and the cluster of slippery leaves that I was walking did not help either. My head was spinning, I decided to look on the floor to see if I was lucky, but I only managed to get my clothes and hands dirty.

Another scream with my name alerted me because a desperation and terror trembled in the humid air. I turned in his direction, the water splashed the shore and there were only fingers clinging anguished to the earth that was falling apart between them.

I felt that I stopped breathing. It seemed that the space between where I was and where the river flowed was immense, just as every step, however hasty it took, took me further away from Nicole.

To top it off, the treacherous mattress under my feet, he played his game and I ended up with a muddy face. I got up without waiting for a second and flew to the shore. When I arrived, the river had taken it.

I stared at him, unable to process anything of what had happened. I stared at him while, this one, he played to cross the limit once again.

I returned with slow and calm step to the boarding school, without being able to contain the tears that ran for my face. Already back, nobody never suspected me, or the exits. I made my life again, I stopped going to the forest, like the idea of being a botanical biologist and turned to neurology.

From time to time, in that time of tension, and even now it happens, they used to wake me up with the cries of Nicole asking for help and the cries of Matías praying for a little credibility.

In the end, the river took two innocents, a dream and a secret to the depths of its waters.

( @mkayisinsane please tell me what do you think! When you can of course!)

#wip #my wips #the river #el río #own work #copyright #Cuento para concurso #contest #writing project #My projects #writing #own writing #writeblr #writers #drama #mystery #murder #schools #nature

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stargazerdaisy · 6 years

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Ok somewhat strange or maybe even silly ask. Skye hasn't seen snow in person until starting to travel with Team Bus. Skyeward moment, please! Can be AU without any pesky hydra stuff. ❤

In the second week she was with them, he found her face plastered against the plane window, knees bent and her feet tucked under her, staring out at the clouds. It was an unexpected sight, for once her face wasn’t focused on a glowing screen or her mouth wasn’t running a mile a minute. She was rather still, but attention completely focused on what was going on outside. He snuck a look out the other window, trying to figure out what had her so rapt. All he could see were clouds in the darkening sky.

“Um….Skye?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she replied, not even turning around to acknowledge him.

“What are you looking at?”

She rocked back on her heels slightly and rotated to face him. “The snow!”

“Snow?” It confused him that snow would capture someone’s attention so much. It was just frozen water. Was that really all she was seeing?

“Yeah!” Her eyes were alight with excitement as she continued, “There are all of these tiny flakes on the window and they’re amazing and have you ever seen how different they all are? I know I’ve always heard they were, but actually seeing it is pretty sweet.”

Still a bit confused, but not wanting to ruin her fun, he simply nodded. “Okay then, rookie. Don’t forget training in the morning.”

“Sure, whatever.” She waved him off while she focused back on the swirling flakes outside the plane.

Shaking his head slightly, he left her pressed up against the thick plastic, surely leaving a nose print.

It was sometime in February and they were in Minnesota, on a mission that has quickly become the definition of boring-as-hell. The 0-8-4 they were investigating turned out to be a total waste of time, just a weird compilation of coincidences involving an actual freak lightning storm that had an entire town convinced Thor had returned. Now that everything had been sorted out and the citizens assured they were safe from any errant Asgardians, the team was trudging back to the BUS. The temperature was well below anything Skye had ever experienced, hovering somewhere around the 18* mark.

“I’m never going to feel my feet, ever again,” she groaned.

“I don’t think that’s quite possible,” Jemma said. “We’ve only been outside for a few minutes and your skin isn’t exposed, beyond your face. Are your boots not thick enough? Can you still move your toes? Frostbite isn’t anything to take lightly.”

“It’s fine, Simmons,” Skye said. “I’m just freezing my ass off. I didn’t know it could be this cold. How does anyone live out here?”

“Same as people live anywhere. You just need to get the right gear,” Ward informed her. “Thick coats, waterproof gloves, wool socks and heavy duty boots. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Of course, you would say that,” Skye said rolling her eyes. “You’re probably part grizzly bear and actually enjoy this weather.”

Ward shrugged. “I grew up in Massachusetts. I guess I’m used to it. Plus, you run missions in Helsinki and Moscow enough and you stop worrying about it.”

Skye snorted. “Okay then, Robot.”

The team continued on, shuffling through the evening, bracing themselves against the cold. Finally, reaching the BUS, Fitz and Simmons practically ran up the ramp as soon as May lowered it. Ward was about to follow, when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” Skye whispered, face turned up to the clouds overhead.

“What? Did you see something?” Ward asked quickly, immediately on alerts and searching for threats.

Skye giggled softly. “No. Calm down, Super Spy. I meant, look!” She gestured at the air around them. “It’s snowing!”

He blinked for a quick moment, processing her words and turning off the Specialist reaction. Once he let his arms relax and lower from reaching for the gun in his holster, he noticed the tiny white pieces of fluff floating down. They swirled and danced in the wind around them. Skye was standing still, just breathing in the cold air, letting the small crystals brush across her cheeks.

“O….kay?” he asked. “Weren’t you just complaining about how cold you are?”

“Yeah, but now there’s snow!” she said excitedly.

“Which is cold. And it gets your clothes all wet, which makes you colder,” he reminded.

“Just hush and let me enjoy this,” she admonished. After a moment she broke the quiet, “Would you believe I’ve never really seen snow? I spent most of my life in Texas and then California. Neither place are exactly known for their harsh winters.”

Hearing that small confession from her made it click into place for Ward. “Alright then, Rookie. We’ll hang out here for a bit.”

Skye looked at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Who are you and what you have done with my SO?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, flustered.

“It’s pretty rare you indulge me like this,” she said.

“Do you want me to make you inside right now?”

She was quick to shake her head. “Not at all. This is rather nice. Good to see you have it in you.”

“It’ll be a few minutes until they’re ready to take off anyway. Might as well enjoy your first experience with snow.” He made it sound so matter of fact and simple.

Skye grinned, grateful to see this side of him. “Thanks.”

Something was nudging her gently, pulling her out of her dreams. “No,” she grumbled and tried to bury her head deeper in her pillow.

A low chuckle came from her right, then was followed by kisses being pressed onto her shoulder. “Come on, Skye,” he murmured. “You need to get up.”

“No!” she repeated, pulling the blanket over her head and rolling away from him. “It’s too early.”

“I know it is,” he said soothingly, brushing his hand up her arm under the covers. “But there’s something you need to come see.”

A soft sigh escaped her and she rolled on her back. “What is so important that you’re waking me up at - wait, what time is it? - at 6:30am?! On a Saturday?!”

“I can’t tell you,” was his reply.

“Ward, if you want me to get my ass out of this perfectly comfortable and might I add, deliciously warm, bed before the sun is even going to come up, you better give me a good reason right now,” she demanded.

“It’s a surprise,” he explained. “I promise you’ll love it though.”

She fixed him with a suspicious glare. He hoped his reassuring smile would be enough to convince. After another moment, she relented. “Fine, you win. I’m getting up.”

Seeing she was actually getting out the bed, Ward drew back. “I’ll go get the coffee. Dress as warm as you can.”

“Dress warm? What do you mean dress warm? Ward!” she yelled as he exited the room.

Ten minutes later, she met him in the kitchen, looking adorably grumpy. “I want my coffee and an explanation.”

Ward gave her that smile that always seemed to soften her. “Here’s your coffee,” he said handing the mug over. “As soon as you’re ready, get your coat and gloves on and follow me.”

“Where?!” she said exasperated.

“You’ll see.”

“Grant Douglas Ward, you are one of the most infuriating people I have ever met.”

“I know,” he grinned, kissing her on the cheek. “But you love me.”

Skye sighed again, but the smile on her own face told him she wasn’t really that upset. “That I do. Okay, let’s go outside to this mysterious surprise.”

They made sure coats were zipped all the way, mittens were secured, and hats were donned. As they approached the door, he turned and winked at her one more time. “Here we go,” he said.

As the door slid open, Skye gasped, seeing the landscape. A thick blanket of white coated everything she could see. Branches were bending under the weight of the snow, bowing down to the ground. Grass, rocks, and the driveway were buried deep under the inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

She spun to look at him, eyes shining. “It snowed!” she cried.

“It did,” he agreed. “And I thought you’d like to see it unspoiled, before anyone else walked or drove around in it.”

“Can…..we go out?” she asked timidly.

“Why do you think I made you get dressed so warmly?”

The sound of excitement that slipped out of her was very close to a squeal and she took off out into the winter. An hour later, there had been snow angels, a small lopsided snowman, plenty of catching the still falling flakes on their tongues, and a surprise attack snowball fight, instigated by a giggling Skye. What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm, sending flurries of barely formed snowballs his way. Seeing she was not going to slow down anytime soon, Ward knew he needed to end the onslaught. Creeping around where she couldn’t see him, he snuck up behind her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down into the snow with him. Peals of laughter echoed against the trees and nearby building as she settled on top of his chest.

“Okay, you win,” she chuckled.

“Do you surrender or do I need to introduce this handful of snow down your neck?” he threatened teasingly.

“I surrender! I surrender!” she squeaked.

Her joy sank into his bones as he stared up at her - cheeks flushed, hair escaping from the braid capped by her beanie, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night. She was a sight to behold and he thanked his lucky stars, not for the first time, that she had chosen him.

“So, was it worth it?” he asked.

“Was what worth it?”

“Getting up early and coming out into the cold,” he answered.

Skye pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s been okay. If you like that kind of thing.”

“I like your kind of thing,” he said in a suggestive tone.

Skye laughed again. “One track mind there, Ward. Not to mention, you’re the one that made me put on all the extra layers. Kinda shot yourself in the foot there.”

“Well then, guess we need to fix that.”

“Not out here we don’t!” she cried.

“Okay then,” he said, suddenly sitting up and climbing to his feet. “Let’s head in and warm up with a shower.”

“Oooooh, I like your plan,” she replied, letting him pull up. She used the momentum to crash into his chest and drape her arms around his neck. “Thank you for bringing me out here.”

“You’re welcome. I know you love the snow.” His smile was barely there, but love shone in his eyes.

“I love you,” she said simply.

“I love you too,” he said back, then leaned down to meet her lips with his own.

#skyeward #my precious idiots #ves is amazing #daisy writes #or at least thinks she does

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kiatastic · 7 years

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Fall

The deep exhales of breath released from my nostrils became visible in the crisp, cold air around me. Tree branches hovered over my head as the sun filtered its beaming rays through hues of green, red and yellow leaves. Each step I took was followed by a crunch – the sound of fallen leaves under my feet. As beautiful as fall is, there is also a harsh reality:

When leaves fall, they die.

Similar to the pruning process autumn brings, there were leaves in my own life that had to fall while transitioning from the dorm room to the boardroom – habits, tendencies and character flaws that had to die if I ever wanted to grow. Moving away from Atlanta to start my career began as the loneliest season of my life. At the same time, it brought new opportunity to experience the Lord for myself, allow Him to change me and experience Him in new ways. Andy Mineo said it best in one of my favorite songs:

“I was so far from home – and everything that I’ve known. But I got grown in that time alone and that faith became my own.”

I was an anxious college-graduate. Ready to leave those awfully flavored 5-hour energy shots behind me in the KSU Sturgis Library. Eager to box my work within the parameters of 8am – 5pm. Prepared for the ultimate corporate office slay! I was also entirely wrong to believe my most challenging years were behind me. In the words of my late grandfather Charles W. Little, "All your life you are a freshman". I was at the top of my game as a college graduate and at the bottom of the largest learning curve of my life – all at the same time.

Before starting my job I was required to make a pit stop at Indiana University for 3 weeks of training sponsored by the Company known as Immersion I. Think of it as an intense boot camp for rookies in Corporate America. I met all 150 of my colleagues in the Digital Technology Leadership Program from around the world including Brazil, France, India and Egypt – and they were truly the brightest minds I’ve ever met. Each morning began with a quiz on previously reviewed material. The remaining hours were spent in C# building our capstone applications – a language I did not learn in school. I seemed to be the only one starting from ground zero. While many of my colleagues could afford to go out at night after class, I expended several hours in my hotel room learning the very basics. 11:00 pm turned into 2:00 am. 2:00 am turned into 4:00 am. 4:00 am turned into resurfaced doubts as I reflected on all I accomplished in college. From being named a top 5 IS student to winning Miss Alpha South – I started wishing I were back at KSU.

Thoughts and feelings from the previous night lingered in my head the following morning as I talked myself into finally putting my feet on the floor… so much for ditching those artificially grape-flavored 5-hour energy shots. While eating breakfast, an email notification appeared on my phone titled “Short Daily Devotion” – a daily email I receive with a short scripture and word of encouragement. The Lord put my thoughts in check with Isaiah 43:18-19:

“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.”

After all the Lord brought me through in college, I had not really learned to trust Him. It was obvious through my desire to retreat back to a season that presented more comfort – but the only place to fully blossom is in the soil the Lord chooses to plant us. That is where His grace and perfect will reside.

I walked back to my hotel room stiff as a board – the Lord had just snatched my entire life with one scripture. I approached my room and heard a voice singing, “You are the Living Word” by Fred Hammond. It was Rachel – another colleague from my Company. I said to myself “she MUST be a believer!” We ended up going out for Endless Wing Monday at a bar that evening. From that moment to this one Rachel has been one of my closest, dearest friends. I never expected to meet a colleague at work who was also a strong Christian. The Lord orchestrated our friendship in the time I needed it most.

Three weeks passed as boot camp came to a close. Aside from earning an A in my first graduate course, my group was awarded for having the best capstone project out of all 150 colleagues in the class. I reflected back on day 1 and remembered how intimidated I was by everyone around me. Since high school, I have always had an unhealthy habit of comparing myself to others. I habitually convinced myself that I was not smart enough, experienced enough or good enough to be among the best. The problem is – there is no win in comparison. When I compare myself to others and come out on top, it breeds pride. When I compare and come out underneath, it produces false humility. Both are wrong. There is absolutely no competition for your seat at God’s table. Only you are eligible for the plans the Lord has for you.

After leaving Indiana, I flew home to get my car and drove to my new home in Jackson, TN. The commute to work was about an hour. I spent my rotation delivering software solutions to bridge gaps in the manufacturing processes on the shop floor. Fresh out of college, I knew absolutely nothing about engineering or manufacturing IT. I had Google pulled up on every phone call to look up all the terms and acronyms I did not understand. I quickly got up to speed by enrolling in free SAP classes and setting up 1x1 meetings with electrical engineers. A typical day included walking the factory floor in goggles, steel-toed boots and earplugs – so much for that ultimate corporate office slay.

Outside of work, I spent most of my weekends alone. Jackson, TN wasn’t exactly overpopulated with young professionals. Solo movie dates and online shopping became regular weekend pleasantries. I needed to get involved with a church ASAP and find some less expensive hobbies. Upon my first visit to a nearby church the pastor told me Jesus Christ was not my savior because I had not been baptized specifically in their congregation. I left in tears – devastated by the twisted approach they taught on the Word of God. I learned that day how important is to know the Word for myself. That evening I went for a walk around my apartment complex saying “Lord, if you don’t lead me directly to a new church home… I think I’d rather attend Bedside Baptist! I cannot risk experiencing that again and I need your help. Show me what to do.”

The next week I was leaving the factory floor when a man named Andre noticed me. He introduced himself and said, “Hey, I’ve seen you around and heard you’re new in Tennessee.” I looked down and noticed a brochure he was holding in his hand. “I would like to invite you to my church, Historic First Baptist”, he continued. Immediately, I remembered my prayer to the Lord. Overwhelming joy took over my countenance as I replied, “You have no idea how crazy this is. I JUST prayed for a church recommendation on Sunday!” I met Andre and his wife at HFBC that Sunday. It was more traditional than I was used to – but Pastor Watson taught on the foundation of the Bible and that was most important to me. There was no time to waste. I joined THAT Sunday. Throughout my time in Tennessee Andre and his wife, Liakita were my God-sent blessings. They encouraged me to take the New Member’s class and introduced me to so many people there. My circle of friends outside of work was birthed at HFBC. They even encouraged me to grow in my relationship with the Lord. Although I wasn’t perfect with daily quiet time, I did my best to set aside Saturday mornings to pray and read my Bible.

One Saturday in particular, I spent my morning watching a sermon on YouTube recommended by my friend Gabby called “Five Keys to Finding Your Soul Mate.” I had my pen and notepad ready – finding bae was a priority on my to-do list. The pastor, Toure Roberts made an altar call for loneliness at the end of the sermon. To my own frustration and disappointment, what I took away from that sermon had nothing to do with finding bae. Instead, the Lord brought an ugly truth in me to light – a void of loneliness.

I never knew I was lonely because I often “talked” to guys I never had any business considering. To fix that the Lord moved me to a place where I had no choice but to “talk” to Him. There were no longer casual movie dates or “good-morning, beautiful” text messages to fill my void. I began to realize that “trying to fill an infinite hole with a finite thing or person only leaves an insatiable appetite that can never be fully and finally satisfied.” Any attempt to fill a God-sized void with selfish pleasures (no matter how harmless they seem) will fail every time. The Holy Spirit showed me that the part of my life I wanted to control was the part He wanted most. I paused the YouTube video while going into one of the most unorthodox cries I have ever had. For the first time I became aware of God’s relentless pursuit of me – and my half-hearted acknowledgement of His love in return.

“… Every man’s emptiness is nothing more than a hunger for God, masked by temporary pleasures. We always want more and more of it, because it will satisfy us less and less – until soon it does not satisfy us at all.”

I had tried several times to surrender my love life (or lack thereof) to the Lord – but never sincerely meant it. I regretfully acknowledge that He had to strip me of all options to win my undivided attention. “For the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a Jealous God (Exodus 34:14).” In complete vulnerability and transparency with Him, His love ushered me into His perfect peace – a need for no one else but Him.

That same evening I received a FaceTime call from my close friend, Drew. Andrew became my go-to Alpha during my time serving as Miss Black & Gold at KSU. However, we became friends through a Bible study group the Lord led me to start during my junior year of college. After expressing how much he valued our friendship, he shared that night that he had feelings for me he could not quite put his finger on. Immediately, I said in my head “Lord, you’ve got a serious sense of humor. I know I just cried my eyes out about being single – but this is not what I wanted. Drew is my friend! I can’t date him.” Still, I was pleasantly shocked to be pursued (for the first time) by a God-fearing man. I knew Drew personally as a friend for years. I have even tried to hook him up with a friend in the past! I told him I did not know how to feel about it. He assured me that if I did not feel the same way, he would still love me as a friend. Surely this man was from another planet. Never in my life had a man with such humility and Godly love approached me the way he did.

When it was time to wrap up my first rotation in Tennessee, Drew surprised me by driving to Jackson to help pack up my apartment. I told him my company was paying all the expenses for movers to come pack – but he insisted on coming anyway. He stayed in the hotel across the street and never insinuated wanting anything out of me. I became drawn to the sincerity and Godliness of his heart. Although I thought about him often, I knew the Lord was still working on me. I read a book called “Your Knight and Shining Armor” by P.B. Wilson. At the end of it I concluded I was not ready to date anyone – there were parts of me that needed work first. Drew and I remained friends for the next several months.

Two days before my rotation ended, I pitched out my final results from my rotation to several executives and business leaders. I made friends with so many people in the factory – they even brought in home-cooked dishes on my last day! I was thanked personally by the CIO of the business for going to work alone in a factory without any IT colleagues or mentors. It was an a-typical situation for someone new to the Company, but the Lord was my Source through it all.

In Tennessee, I learned that my weaknesses are the best platforms for God to teach me about His power. In Judges 7, the Lord commanded Gideon to slash his army down to 300 men before going into battle. It wasn’t about terrifying Gideon – it was about stripping away anything that could suggest that God was not the reason for his victory. These are win-win scenarios - the Lord is glorified and our faith is strengthened in the process.

As soon as I started to build my network, understand supply chain IT and become comfortable in my new city… it was time to do it all over again. One rotation down - three left to go. I packed the few remaining valuables from my apartment in my Honda accord and headed to my second rotation in Houston, TX. The autumn leaves had fallen, but a new season was on the way. Bundle up – winter is coming.

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operationrainfall · 4 years

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Title Vitamin Connection Developer WayForward Technologies Publisher WayForward Release Date February 20th, 2020 Genre Experimental, Multiplayer Platform Nintendo Switch Age Rating E for Everyone – Comic Mischief, Mild Cartoon Violence Official Website

In a weird way, I’m kind of glad I only recently found the time to play through Vitamin Connection. Because what better time to play a game all about fighting infectious diseases than during a worldwide pandemic? Dark humor aside, Vitamin Connection is a very hard to explain game. It’s incredibly unique and experimental. I recognized plot elements that reminded me of Powerpuff Girls or Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, mini games that would have fit right into WarioWare, and controls that reminded me somehow of Yoshi’s Island. That’s a diverse mix right off the bat, and I applaud WayForward for their ambition. The question then was did this heady mixture of disparate elements come together in a cohesive elixir? Or did it erupt in an alchemical misfire?

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The entire plot of Vitamin Connection revolves around the Sable family. They’re an idyllic bunch – scientist father, bad-ass housewife mother, energetic young boy, psychotic baby and lovable dog. Something has caused bacteria to infest the entire family, and one by one, they come down with mysterious symptoms. Before you discount this as happenstance, I can tell you there’s actually something sinister afoot. I didn’t realize that until late in the game, but suffice to say the experience is as much about healing the family as it is discovering the source of their infection. You do so as the heroes of the game – Vita-Boy and Mina-Girl. They pilot the minuscule Capsule Ship, which enters bodies, finds bacteria and blasts them to smithereens. Each of the game’s levels has you wandering through veins and sailing towards major organs. Once you find a source of infection, your job is to beat them in a mini game. These can involve dancing, grabbing items, obstacle courses and much more. Oh and did I mention all of the viruses can talk (which is voice acted) and they love to trash talk you? Yea, this is a strange experience, but not without its charms.

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When I compared Vitamin Connection to Yoshi’s Island, it was mostly due to the very unique controls found in both games. You can play this game either single player or with a friend. I have a feeling the latter is the way it was meant to be played, but in the spirit of self isolation, I played this solo. In single player, you control all the aspects of the gameplay, whereas you split duties when playing with a friend. Or so I understand, I didn’t actually try multiplayer. In any case, there’s a lot of really cool features to the gameplay. As you wander through bodies, you can rotate your Capsule Ship with the right and left triggers, clockwise or counter clockwise. This is important, since touching any structure harms your ship, and if you take too much damage, you’ll die and have to restart from your last save. You use the joystick to control your beam, which can be shot in any direction you aim, making it very versatile. To make up for that, you have a limited charge to use it with. If you use the beam too long, the power of it is vastly diminished until it has a chance to reboot. You also later get a claw module that can grab and move things. It’s nifty in theory, but in execution it was very different. Mostly cause it was mapped to the same joystick used for firing your beam. So it’s very easy to accidentally arm the claw when you’re trying to blast, or vice versa. And since the claw’s controls are very, very finicky, I grew to dislike its inclusion in short order. You can also speed up how fast the level speeds past you by holding any two buttons on the right Joy-Con, which is handy. Especially since you otherwise can only maneuver your ship around with the left Joy-Con.

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In case it’s not already evident, the controls in Vitamin Connection take some getting used to. And even then, they can be a handful. As you navigate about, you’ll come across colored blue and red cords that block your path. You have to rotate your ship around so the proper colored edge is facing the cord, and then by ramming them at the proper angle, you’ll cut your way through. This was fun at first, but the game starts to go crazy with how many cords you come across. It’s also exacerbated by the tunnels you drift through often being very narrow, meaning that if you’re facing the wrong direction, you’ll sometimes have to rotate through the stage, harming yourself, just to be properly oriented. It wouldn’t be an issue if the game previewed that a cord was coming up, but it doesn’t. It’s also nerve wracking since if you get too far behind the stage as it scrolls, you’ll constantly take damage every few seconds. This didn’t happen often, mind you, but when it did I got very frustrated. And keep in mind that you’re not just wandering through harmless areas. There’s lots of bacterial enemies, and they love to get in your way, blast you from a distance or otherwise harass you.

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I mentioned mini games earlier, and there’s plenty of them in Vitamin Connection. One of the most iconic ones has you bust a move in dance battles against bacteria. That’s really cool in theory, but actually doing it can be very tough. Reason being, when playing in single player, you have to watch prompts for dance moves as they scroll on the periphery of both sides of the screen simultaneously. I started to feel like a chameleon playing this game, with my eyes trying to focus on two things at once. I did sort of get the hang of it, but it’s just an example of how mechanics in the game aren’t always well-implemented. The worst example was actually a mini game that involves extending a mitt to grab a certain amount of items. The first few times you encounter this, you’ll have to navigate around moving bacteria, since touching them hurts you. The last iteration of the game has bacteria that don’t move. I was totally flummoxed, until I figured out that you’re supposed to extend your mitt upward inch by inch, with minute flickers of your joystick, while simultaneously maneuvering your ship around, and then do the same thing in reverse to bring the items towards you safely. Suffice to say, this mini game was so irritating I nearly gave up on reviewing Vitamin Connection. Thankfully, I found some deep reserve of patience and pushed through. Maybe it’s not so bad with a friend, but if not, then something needs to be done to streamline it for solo gamers.

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I don’t mean to make it sound like everything in Vitamin Connection was a slog, cause it wasn’t. Oftentimes this is a very charming and funny game. Even though your heroes Vita-Boy and Mina-Girl are totally unvoiced, the other characters are bursting at the seams with personality. The game almost plays out like an old Saturday morning cartoon, full of humor and silliness. I especially liked the design of the various bacteria, such as giant cyclops bats, happy amoebas, candy colored rhinos and more. This is only boosted by the tremendous voice acting, which even minor characters like bacteria get. Visually, it’s a really attractive experience as well. Though it mostly plays off bright, crayola colored areas, the use of bold colors and cartoon style really makes it stand out. Musically the game is even better, and features tracks that would fit in perfectly in JPOP or KPOP, full of funky beats and mellifluous singing. Honestly, if I were just scoring the game on aesthetic or even creativity, it would probably have gotten a perfect score.

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Although I estimate I got through the main game in about 6 hours, there’s actually pretty decent replay value here. Each mini game you play is unlocked for free play later on. Additionally, by collecting all 5 hidden Ion Stars in a stage, you’ll unlock an accompanying bonus stage. These are fun and short affairs that play more like a SHMUP than the rest of the experience. Also, you unlock New Game Plus after you beat the final stage, which apparently lets you play as a different character. I say apparently since I haven’t tried it myself yet. Either way, I always appreciate reasons to come back to a game, and find it laudable Vitamin Connection is trying to put its best foot forward. Having said that, I probably would have preferred a longer main adventure with more story and hijinks to enjoy, since there’s only 6 main levels.

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Before I close things out, I need to touch upon some areas that really hurt the overall experience. Earlier I mentioned cutting cords in stages, and how it can get tricky when you’re navigating tight tunnels. This was problematic in one long stretch that leads to a stage’s last Ion Star, and I simply couldn’t manage it. I wish the game offered the ability to switch the color orientation of your ship, instead of just rotating it around and around. Another area of contention is with the save system. It autosaves whenever you are at a junction or after beating a mini game. My issue is that one time I was playing a mini game, about to win, when Vitamin Connection had an error that forced me back to the Home Screen. When I booted it up again, I wasn’t placed right at the start of the mini game, but instead at the tunnel branch which led to it. I also can’t express enough how much I wish the claw controls were separate from the laser controls. I had so many times where not only did I have trouble using the right tool at the right time, but even had tons of times where the claw was ready, I tried to grab something, and instead the claw retracted back into my ship. There’s actually a final boss in the game, in a fight that plays a lot like a battle in Mischief Makers. Problem was, it forces you to use the claw to fight back, which made things far more difficult. Oh and the Love Test game that plays after you beat stages really should have clarified that you don’t actually play it, but instead that it rates you on your overall performance. And lastly, while this is a minor quibble, it seemed odd to me that in a game so full of personality, the main characters are totally unvoiced, and don’t even get dialogue.

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Ultimately, I feel there were tons of cool ideas on display here and tons of charm, but that it wasn’t fully realized. Vitamin Connection is still a fun experience, and I appreciate the creativity. I just feel that perhaps some features required more time in the oven, so to speak. Honestly though, for only $19.99, it’s hard to take too much fault with the experience. I’d say if you want to support a cool indie company, you should give it a go. Just be ready for a steeper challenge than you might expect.

[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”3″]

Review Copy Provided by Publisher

REVIEW: Vitamin Connection Title Vitamin Connection

#experimental #unique #Vitamin Connection #WayForward

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ckcker · 4 years

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Spit-Take’s Last Squirt

I look down at the parking lot of the apartment complex, I briefly think the back of a woman’s head walking away from me is the front of a hot guy walking towards me. I hear a deadbolt unlock and turn and am invited inside. Crossing the threshold of Rob’s apartment door sinks a throttled prick through my body akin to stumbling into a rusty and bubble-wrapped metal spike apparently for sale in an antique store. Even as the top door hinge passes by my temple as a snubbed showbiz air kiss there is a flash in my mind of something, unrelated to the physical apartment and also a thing I will never be able to remove, that asks to keep my focus in two places at once. Between these two places, the feet and the head spitroast me with their perverse negotiations. My initial trauma is at this point overused as a topic and let’s agree boring to think about; my mind starts to suggest trauma spinoffs instead. I am given a glass of water by Rob but then ask for a beer as, without asking, my memory gifts me excruciating yet kinkily edited content of my attempts to recover. One of the best ways to come back from a nervous breakdown, I decided in the aftermath of that notable moment, is to do it very very quickly, ‘few solutions are as correct as speed-processing a massive landmark shift in the perception of reality,’ I had soothed myself in the aftermath. I was hoping for something shittier than an IPA, I drink the IPA and turn, I notice the back of what I believe is an old woman’s head and body resting on the couch.

After my ˹survivable event˼ it was typical for all of the dying to retire inward. I believed I could bring back my life in the same way that people made jokes about being dead inside to prepare for the end of the world. Alright, the remodeling of total defeat into pragmatic quarantine. Enough disaster movies had passed, everyone notices catastrophes have entertainment value, I would walk past and look in the glass reflection of a recently opened Thai street food spot run by white ex-skaters, I evaluated my drilled in face and greyed out options, my de-emphasized terror: maybe even I could be entertaining. My original twist on the concept of recovering was to imagine my strength and ability as limitless. To decide I could pre-understand the well-flung implications of my situation, of a mind unable to cope with learning all of the things that are possible. I wanted to turbo-ravel a lights out unraveling; the poet who wanted to be a cop. I turn to Rob and say nothing about the apparently older woman, he also says nothing about her, asks, “what kind of music do you like?” before playing an Ace of Base song and I don’t have to answer. The woman seems to be activated. Her limbs slide against her torso and she turns to look around the room, then briefly at us but again at the room, then one certain spot on the wall to the right of where we are standing where she settles and says “hi” in a warble expelled as a foehn.

I return the hi and am introduced to Gail. I thought of all my failed solutions. For instance, attending several satellite Occupy Wall Street protests, where discussions of income inequality and widespread mobilization were annotated with shouts, why is there fluoride in our water and end the fed. One important takeaway involved a large man yelling along to the song being played on the sound system, “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” for two repetitions of the lyric before realizing no one else would join him and vanishing into embarrassed aerosol. A successful protest fixates on a way for everyone to feel more or less the same emotion at a coordinated moment. A successful protest is very sharply art directed and does not relish the display of rehearsed outrage. The foot I thought I’d taken out of my ass and put through the door had somehow ended up in some other ass. Feel it for the first time again. Though people will regularly re-watch movies only waiting for their favorite lines to be said, it seems they rarely stop to consider protest tactics they have seen before. I thought I had the patience, the dedication for such things, I tapped out naturally and in gas form. “She needed a place to stay for a bit,” Rob tells me, Gail says nothing but smiles lightly, looking at us in some awesome combo of salivating for a response and indifferent to the fact of being trapped behind twenty successive panes of stained glass. Tchah, the experience of watching an ancient demon fail an eight week long beginner’s course on improv. “I see,” I conclude, Gail’s expression remains the same. “Wow…’Beautiful Life’ is such a good song,” Rob says. The song moves to the front. I say, “Yes, I do love ‘Beautiful Life.’”

I had tried walks and not just sometimes but many walks. Down the city cul-de-sac at a certain time. Listening to wordless music, this one some sort of ambient dramatization of Eurydice’s botched escape from the underworld, a repetitive melancholy chunnel. Then a rotation: it becomes Britney from an era when pop turned us around an axis both blingy and higgedly-piggedly-nigh-fucky-wucky, gently increasing the healing concept with each exacting flail, that there may be a consolation for all problems leading up to and including the end of the world. The consolation was dancing all night. Of course the time of my walks was twilight. Fried mindsets gave the music much power as a narrative soundtrack; as I looked at a single branch of a very tall tree overhead and caught in sunset and streetlight, jiggled evocatively by wind, and heard a sort of coincidental despair-organized belch from the buckled gut of the mp3, I attempted to speed things up by trying to lose my mind all of the way. This did not work, I had to stay somewhere in between.

I went on more walks alone but never too far from my amazing bed. It was crucial to be within 30 walking minutes of somewhere unsurveilled where I could lay down and catalogue mysterious headaches, as mysterious headaches had rightfully been selected as the center of my world. The speed of losing a mind is incredibly hard to measure. Gail also listens to ‘Beautiful Life’ and clearly does not know what it is, I don’t feel familiar enough with Rob to confront the question of how they know each other, I try:

“Are you two related?”

“No no no, haha,” Rob’s voice enters an excited tone. Gail emerges a glacial grin that, even as it forms one of the most approachable configurations able to be realized on a face, still seems misdirected from the hook of a comforting social cue, “no, I met Gail at a bar last night. At Tina’s. She just needs a place to stay for a little. She just moved back here.” “I spent many years in Lawrence, with my family,” Gail says.

“I see.”

Context clues point to homeless, I ache to know much more, Rob twirls around with unbridled pizazz. He puts his two arms straight out towards me, “what would — ohhh!!” He retracts his arms. “I was going to ask if you wanted something to drink.” Gail rests, “but you already have a beer,” and here he must have felt the panic to entertain away a social gaffe by immediately giving a clear-cut logical explanation, “my mind has been wiped away this week. So much molly… Well… good.”

“Yes.”

“Yes INDEED hunny. This past weekend just about mummified me, I’ve been in a sarcophagus all WEEK, did you do anything fun?”

“Umm.”

I remembered then I was trying to stop using umm. I was coaching myself to be quite fearless and brave when entering sentences. The CEO of a major newspaper-then-media company once said, before filming a segment for an in-house spot on the company’s approach to advertising its newly launched free weekly targeting 23-35 y/o young professionals, ‘I’m not an umm guy.’ This dialogue, delivered to the video director who was reminding the CEO to look straight in the camera and avoid using expressions like “umm” and “uhh” since they communicated unpreparedness, nerves or insecurity, revealed in its choppy severity a set of verbal and body language constraints that likely this man thought of all the time in order to conjure his short and long term goals. Likely he thought of them almost as much as I thought about mysterious headaches. I had been hired to help craft services for the shoot and spent much of the time sitting against a wall print of a famous basketball player, staring at the glass-walled office and elevators meant to enhance, via the perspective of ‘more space’ given by such architecture, a tech-oriented workplace for the media-damaged graduates. See-thru offices offer more natural light, the young people of the era seem to enjoy a certain kind of light. Another two-day job to float me, and an opportunity to rebuild a stomach for being outside of my incredible room. “I stayed in on Saturday,” then I pause before continuing, “I watched a movie. A documentary,” which I had watched for 17 minutes before moving to my window to observe the parking lot for 45 minutes, followed by bed.

Rob seems uncomfortable with this idea, “you should come out with us this weekend. There’s some stuff going on. Maybe you can come to this super fun party, it’s a queer party. In fact it’s a conspiracy theory-themed queer party.” Gail moves her left forefinger a splanch. “It’s really funny! And good music, people dress up, it’s called……….Femmetrails” there is a pause of expectation which I do not know how to meet and which is ignored “it’s really funny and lots of dancing. My friend Blake hosts it. But in drag. And, guess what his drag name is” I try to remember: was it a parking lot I observed, or a man in his early 40s masturbating within a fingerprint-shrouded computer screen “Georgia SORROWS. Gail’s going to come!” Gail has stopped grinning and seems to be unreachable for the length of a square breath before a small shift in her sitting style punctures the proto-gargoyle droop. “Yes I am going to come” she confirms. “Yes and you should too,” it appears Rob is attached to the idea. I clean out my lower mouth with my tongue, with mouth closed. “That would be, maybe” this seems to be enough of an answer for everyone.

Rob sits on the ground, I begin to prepare my body to also sit on the ground. It had been a meat lover’s pizza approach to self-healing. Kava tea from the pharmacy chain, sugar abstinence, performative meditation, I slipped into nonsensical jogging regimens, coffee abstinence, I walked gently in frozen empty parking lots, I didn’t touch anyone for a full year, “my balls are lost halls,” short term CBT and do-it-yourself biofeedback, waiting for hyperventilation so I could write about it, and all this supported by typical means: substantial daily hard alcohol acceptances and fearless ibuprofen stuffings. And to heal oneself completely, one must never enlighten others to the full extent of the problem and the drenched map of half-solutions being applied, regularly, in secret. Yes, I had as much spiritual discipline as a teen in an Intro to Photo class taking b&w photos of homeless people on the street. I sit down at least four feet away from Rob and twelve from Gail, who in the meantime it has been discovered does not know the story of Amanda Bynes’ breakdown. She also does not know who Amanda Bynes is. Neither Rob nor I have any interest in making that clear. The super gonorrheic minutiae that line and then bedazzle the mental process of a terrified person do not enter conversations as smoothly as quotes from 23 year old cult TV shows canceled after two seasons. Not a shock, only a condition that makes the thoughts turn ever more crunched, ever more specific and internally bound, glowing with unpopular culture.

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oovitus · 5 years

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Weekend Reading, 4.28.19

Those of you who’ve been reading for a while might remember that 2017 was the year of bread baking around here.

It all started when my friend Ali published her (wonderful) cookbook, Bread Toast Crumbs. I’d wanted to get serious about homemade bread baking for a long time, but everything I’d read until that point made my eyes glaze over: it was all so technical and intimidating. Ali’s peasant bread technique—which involves no kneading and almost no dirtying of hands at all, in addition to the heartwarming fact that the loaves get baked in buttered Pyrex bowls—gave me the courage I needed.

Months later, Emilie gifted me with sourdough starter and a copy of her cookbook. Baking my first loaf of homemade sourdough was a small victory: I couldn’t believe it had actually worked, which I guess is the magic of natural leavening.

Bread baking found me at the right moment. I was having a hard time in March and April of that year: a longterm relationship had just ended, in a way that I wasn’t ready for and didn’t yet understand. For the first time in my life, I felt completely ill-suited to being on my own. I moved through my space and my days in a haze of confusion and grief, feeling scared and alone and more than a little sorry for myself.

If that period of time taught me anything, it was the gift of small things. None of the big stuff—love, graduate school, sense of direction or purpose—seemed to be working out. Even work, which is typically a major source of meaning for me, felt rote and joyless. My post-bacc years and the ones that followed hadn’t been easy, but they’d been animated with an incredible sense of yearning and direction. Suddenly, I had neither.

What I did have were my daily routines, which I fought to maintain even when things like cooking and chores felt insurmountable. I knew from past experiences with depression that keeping up with small habits, even if they felt suddenly like a lot of work, was the least I could do. And I did, day after day, until they started not to feel so tough anymore.

For a while it was all pretty muted, but as the months went by, I was reminded of my own capacity to be gratified by simple pleasures: good food, a clean home, a walk to the park, an hour of reading. I didn’t have a plan, but I did have the next meal and the next task, and at that moment, those things were enough.

And there was bread. It’s always been my comfort food, and I’d have eaten plenty of it that spring even if I weren’t baking it from scratch (for a while there, toast and cake were the only two things I wanted to eat). But I was baking from scratch, week after week, and it was wonderful. Unlike some other DIY food projects I’ve tried—kombucha, yogurt, seitan—this felt like the right ratio of effort and reward. The bread was so much better than anything I could buy, and I actually liked the process: mixing, shaping, scoring. The smell of a loaf in the oven on Saturday morning became something I looked forward to all week long. I wouldn’t quite say that bread baking got me through the year, but I can’t imagine that spring and summer without it.

I kept up with homemade bread for a while. But sometime last spring, in the race to the grad school finish line, the habit fell away. Once my internship started, it felt silly and imprudent to bake when I needed grains, beans, and fully cooked meals as weekly mainstays. During my acute care rotation, when getting the laundry done was a challenge, feeding my starter was the last thing on my mind.

My GI rotation gives me two weekdays off, which has been a gift in so many ways: it allows me to ease up on my batch cooking, to get work done during the week, and to have a true weekend. Most of all, having a little extra time on my hands gave me a kick in the pants to bake bread again. Now that I’m in the swing of it—one or two loaves weekly for the last four weeks—I’m rolling my eyes at the fact that I didn’t make time for it sooner. It’s a time commitment, sure, like anything/everything else. And it’s time perfectly spent.

I cook because it’s fun, healthful and economical. But cooking and feeding myself will always be a symbolic act as well as a practical one: it’s my way of asserting the desire to be alive, nourished, and whole. Bread making speaks to this desire more than almost any other type of cooking that I do. The fact that the process demands patience and time is only more evidence that, no matter what’s going on, I want to eat well and be well. I’m so glad to have been reminded of this in the past month.

Wishing you a week of good food and good self-care. Here are some recipes and reads.

Recipes

Speaking of Ali, I’m loving her latest, Indian-inspired fried rice recipe.

Yet more motivation to branch out with my air fryer. This time, a vegan sheet pan supper with lemony tempeh from Susan at FFVK.

I love the looks of this sun-dried tomato pesto (and the yummy pappardelle that accompanies it).

A pretty phenomenal looking vegan kidney bean burger.

I’ve never made cookie dough in a blender, but consider me inspired by these chocolate cookies.

Reads

1. I believed that too much water at mealtimes could “dilute” stomach acid for years! Evidence says otherwise, and this article—in which my current preceptor, Tamara Duker Freuman, is interviewed—explains. (For the record, when I was working in a GI practice in DC, I did learn that chugging water at mealtimes can encourage the swallowing of air, which can be bloating, so steady sips are still a wise idea if you’ve got a sensitive digestive tract.)

2. More support for the value of eating breakfast.

3. Popular Science busts some sleep myths (sobering stuff for those of us who often do without enough of it, and tell ourselves it’s NBD).

4. Yikes! Bad news for allergy sufferers like me (yes, it’s getting worse, and climate change is in part to blame).

5. Finally, I wanted to link to this post from my friend Maria. It’s a lovely meditation on meeting oneself and one’s feelings—including the despondent ones—with acceptance and faith in the promise of release and transformation.

On that note, enjoy the remainder of this Sunday. And happy Orthodox Easter to those of you who celebrate today—maybe a bowl of vegan avgolemono is in order.

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xertasadventures · 7 years

Text

Palisades Mall and Logan

Figured I’d interrupt the string of “Cebu Trip” posts with a mini adventure I had stateside :3

3-11-17

I was supposed to wake up at 6 or even 5 so that I wouldn’t be rushing to get ready. However, by the time I woke up it was almost 7. And I had to be at Jaymie’s house around 8 or 8:30. So after I turned off the alarms I rushed to take a shower and get ready before heading to get my car from the garage. It was pretty damn cold, not going to lie, but I managed by wearing some uniqlo heat tech leggings and just wearing my usual hoodie/jacket style, so the walk to the garage wasn’t terrible.

When I got to the garage I had to empty out the back of the Jetta because I was planning (or more like hoping) to get a spot right outside my apartment when I get back home way later, which means it would be easier to dump the trunk of the Jetta into my Dad’s Volvo so that I wouldn’t have to do it later. Afterwards, I headed to Jaymie’s house but as I was on the way, she told me she was still getting ready so I offered to buy her and her family Jollibee before arriving. Her parents were eating oatmeal so she just needed longsilog and topsilog for her and her brother, which I ordered to go with my own longsilog.

When I got to her house, her family was awake. I greeted her brother, her Mom, and her Dad then went to the kitchen and waited because I didn’t want to be the awkward one eating while everyone else was still out and about in the house. When her Dad came by to eat I began eating my meal and we talked about my trip - how it was in cebu, the food, the crazy traffic. It was just refreshing to be able to talk about my trip especially when I’m still having some vacation blues - it’s part of the reason why I want to blog about it because it helps me overcome me missing my cousins.

When Jaymie was done getting ready we headed out to Stevens since she had an open house to attend for her masters. It was awesome because due to that event I was allowed to park in Babbio garage without a parking pass (suck it, Stevens Police!) :D After I parked, we split ways with her going to the open house and me just chilling on second floor babbio. The open house took about an hour and a half before she was ready to leave.

After she finished changing in the bathroom, we drove up to the Palisades mall which is always a nice drive. I mean, I’m used to it by now considering how many time’s I’ve gone to my Tito Patrick’s house (different Patrick for the uninformed) that I could probably drive it in my sleep (but I won’t = 3 =) In fact, looking for a parking spot seemed to take way longer than getting there, even though it wasn’t. I mean I half expected that. It’s like the only big mall in the area and it was a Saturday.

We decided to just park outside the target on the fourth floor of the mall. It was outdoors so we’d be exposed and I’d be forced to wear my winter jacket to get to the mall, but at least the walk isn’t as far as it could be. Once we got inside, we headed straight for East Japanese because we were both pretty hungry.

East Japanese was a restaurant that had sushi and other snacks and dishes going around on a conveyor belt. I’ve been there and to it’s sister branches several times but this was Jaymie’s first time. I kinda dove in and Jaymie claims that she turned around for a second and there was already like four plates on the table, but I swear it was only two = 3 =. We got all sort of stuff - shrimp tempura rolls and gyoza, obviously, but also fried octopus/squid legs, tokyo style fried chicken, lobster salad sushi, peppered shrimp tempura rolls (there’s a difference), cream puffs, macarons, and a few other things that slip my mind. Overall it was pretty tasty... let’s just not talk about the final bill LOL

After East Japanese, we went next door to this store called “IT’S SUGAR” which, you guessed, sold a crap ton of candy. It was here where I first ate orange hi-chew, and I was tempted to get some but I knew my Dad was bringing back some from the Philippines so I didn’t get any. I did find a section that was selling bacon everything - bandages, lip balm, etc. - but I dare not try any of it in fear of not liking it like I didn’t like bacon flavored ice cream x.x

After spending a little time at IT’S SUGAR we headed to the theater to watch Logan. Oh boy. If I ever do movie reviews, this one will be... alright. Kinda depressing for the most part but I won’t give anything away... I may have cried near the end but yeah...

After Logan we went to Uniqlo because I needed to get new A-shirts for working out. The ones I have are starting to get old and worn out and I figured I buy Uniqlo everything so why not Uniqlo A-shirts as well = 3 = Sadly, they didn’t have the extravegant colors I wanted like yellow, orange, or even blue, so I figured I’d just buy it online (which I haven’t done yet and might do so after writing this post LOL). What I did end up buying was another hoodie because the one I bought in the Philippines was a different design and a different blue than that one I really wanted (which I didn’t realize until I saw it at the store). I’m still going to be using the hoodie I got in the Philippines, but at least now I have three hoodies to rotate around, and that’s always a good thing (especially when I’ve pretty much been wearing the same hoodie for the past year LOL) Oh, and Jaymie got a jacket for her disney trip in April = 3 =

When we were done shopping at Uniqlo, we headed to Kung-Fu Tea because I wanted a manga green tea. It’s funny because before during the week I had asked Jaymie to get me a mango green tea from the Kung-Fu Tea in hoboken and told her I wanted the tapioca and the mango jellies it usually came with. But when I got it, it was the mango boba instead. So I was like “Let me show you how to order my order” and lo and behold when we got to the cashier they told me they don’t do mango jellies anymore. Yeah. Eff me, right? XD Of course Jaymie rubbed it in my face and of course I deserved it, but I’m still laughing about it even now haha = 3 =

We then went to Coldstone because Jaymie wanted to get ice cream. Initially I wasn’t going to get any because I didnt’ want to eat too much... But then I saw that they had pistachio ice cream which I haven’t had in a while... So I ended up getting that with Reeses Peanut Butter Cups... I was tempted to instead get the strawberry lemonade flavor they had but I figured I just had a sweet green tea so I’d get something creamy... Kinda regret not getting the strawberry lemonade flavor, but w/e. What’s done is done.

Before heading out, we stopped by gamestop to check if they had an amiibo Jaymie’s brother was looking. They didn’t so we headed back to Jaymie’s house where I hung out for a bit. They were watching Way of the Dragon and I saw the fight between Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris. Man did that guy get owned LOL After watching, I tried some of her Dad’s giniling, which was pretty good, but just didn’t taste like my Mom’s cooking (obviously I’m going to favor my Mom’s cooking. It just had more flavor though).

After I finished eating and talking with Jaymie and her brother, I headed back home, which wasn’t painful because it was traffic. I tried looking for a parking spot and initially there wasn’t any, but thankfully after going around one more time, this guy was leaving right in front of my building, so I was able to get the spot and thanked God afterwards. Saved me a trip in the cold.

Once I got upstairs, I just did some WoW dailies, then passed out. Yeah, I was pretty tired, but I guess the jetlag just caught up with me. Hopefully my sleeping cycle should be back on schedule, but we’ll see when I wake up tomorrow for my dentist appointment (if I wake up in time for it LOL)

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oovitus · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19

Those of you who’ve been reading for a while might remember that 2017 was the year of bread baking around here.

Wishing you a week of good food and good self-care. Here are some recipes and reads.

Recipes

Speaking of Ali, I’m loving her latest, Indian-inspired fried rice recipe.

Yet more motivation to branch out with my air fryer. This time, a vegan sheet pan supper with lemony tempeh from Susan at FFVK.

I love the looks of this sun-dried tomato pesto (and the yummy pappardelle that accompanies it).

A pretty phenomenal looking vegan kidney bean burger.

I’ve never made cookie dough in a blender, but consider me inspired by these chocolate cookies.

Reads

2. More support for the value of eating breakfast.

3. Popular Science busts some sleep myths (sobering stuff for those of us who often do without enough of it, and tell ourselves it’s NBD).

4. Yikes! Bad news for allergy sufferers like me (yes, it’s getting worse, and climate change is in part to blame).

On that note, enjoy the remainder of this Sunday. And happy Orthodox Easter to those of you who celebrate today—maybe a bowl of vegan avgolemono is in order.

The post Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

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oovitus · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19

Those of you who’ve been reading for a while might remember that 2017 was the year of bread baking around here.

For a while it was all pretty muted, but as the months went by, I started to be reminded of my own capacity to be gratified by simple pleasures: good food, a clean home, a walk to the park, an hour of reading. I didn’t have a plan, but I did have the next meal and the next task, and at that moment, those things were enough.

And there was bread. It’s always been my comfort food, and I’d have eaten plenty of it that spring even if I weren’t baking it from scratch (for a while there, toast and cake were the only two things I wanted to eat). But I was baking from scratch, week after week, and it was wonderful. Unlike some other DIY food projects I’ve tried—kombucha, yogurt, seitan—this felt like the right ratio of effort and reward. The bread was so much better than anything I could buy, and I actually liked the process: mixing, shaping, scoring. The small of a loaf in the oven on Saturday morning became something I looked forward to all week long. I wouldn’t quite say that bread baking got me through the year, but I can’t imagine that spring and summer without it.

Wishing you a week of good food and good self-care. Here are some recipes and reads.

Recipes

Speaking of Ali, I’m loving her latest, Indian-inspired fried rice recipe.

Yet more motivation to branch out with my air fryer. This time, a vegan sheet pan supper with lemony tempeh from Susan at FFVK.

I love the looks of this sun-dried tomato pesto (and the yummy pappardelle that accompanies it).

A pretty phenomenal looking vegan kidney bean burger.

I’ve never made cookie dough in a blender, but consider me inspired by these chocolate cookies.

Reads

2. More support for the value of eating breakfast.

3. Popular Science busts some sleep myths (sobering stuff for those of us who often do without enough of it, and tell ourselves it’s NBD).

4. Yikes! Bad news for allergy sufferers like me (yes, it’s getting worse, and climate change is in part to blame).

On that note, enjoy the remainder of this Sunday. And happy Orthodox Easter to those of you who celebrate today—maybe a bowl of vegan avgolemono is in order.

The post Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

0 notes

oovitus · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19

Those of you who’ve been reading for a while might remember that 2017 was the year of bread baking around here.

And there was bread. It’s always been my comfort food, and I’d have eaten plenty of it that spring even if I weren’t baking it from scratch (for a while there, toast and cake were the only two things I wanted to eat). But I was baking from scratch, week after week, and it was wonderful. Unlike some other DIY food projects I’ve tried—kombucha, yogurt, seitan—this felt like the right ratio of effort and reward. The bread was so much better than anything I could buy, and I actually liked the process: mixing, shaping, scoring. The small of a loaf in the oven on Saturday morning became something I looked forward to all week long. I wouldn’t quite say that bread baking got me through the year, but I can’t imagine that spring and summer without it.

Wishing you a week of good food and good self-care. Here are some recipes and reads.

Recipes

Speaking of Ali, I’m loving her latest, Indian-inspired fried rice recipe.

Yet more motivation to branch out with my air fryer. This time, a vegan sheet pan supper with lemony tempeh from Susan at FFVK.

I love the looks of this sun-dried tomato pesto (and the yummy pappardelle that accompanies it).

A pretty phenomenal looking vegan kidney bean burger.

I’ve never made cookie dough in a blender, but consider me inspired by these chocolate cookies.

Reads

2. More support for the value of eating breakfast.

3. Popular Science busts some sleep myths (sobering stuff for those of us who often do without enough of it, and tell ourselves it’s NBD).

4. Yikes! Bad news for allergy sufferers like me (yes, it’s getting worse, and climate change is in part to blame).

On that note, enjoy the remainder of this Sunday. And happy Orthodox Easter to those of you who celebrate today—maybe a bowl of vegan avgolemono is in order.

The post Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 4.28.19 published first on

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