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off-in-the-moors · 3 years

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Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 2

aka no voice and no dream pack

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, s*cid, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

Before starting, I wanted to thank for likes and support, not only on part 1 but also on my other posts. I was writing this more for the catharsis, after months of seeing and not really speaking about a lot of stuff. It’s nice to know, somebody read it. Some say, Kavinsky is their comfort character and, well, he will stay with me for a very long time. But enough of that. Let's talk about the point of view, xenophobia and the Dream Pack.

PoV

The running motif in TRC is, all antagonists get PoVs. No matter if they appear in one book (like Whelk) or reoccur (like the Greenmatles). The reader gets multiple chapters with their backstories, internal thoughts and goals. This move by the author is a double-edged sword, on one hand we get a better understanding of them but on the other, by knowing them better they become less effective antagonists and the air of mystery and surprise of what they're up-to/what they know is lost. E.g. In TDT we are first told about Colin Greenmatle and what is he capable of, making him a good threat for our main characters. But when we finally meet him in BLLB, with his attitude and scenes like dissing Ronan's Latin grammar or making cheese crackers while his wife is held at gun-point, he becomes more of a comedic antagonist than a villain to fear.

But here's the thing: I already lied to you. In TRC, all antagonists get PoVs, except for Kavinsky. It's a odd exception from the rule, considering Gray Man in TDT and The Wasp Demon in The Raven King, also got PoVs. But why? There are two things to look at. One I already mentioned. By giving a character PoV, the reader gets better understanding of them. By not giving Kavinsky one, Margaret didn't give anything to make K or his actions clear or understandable. By not knowing his motivations, K is left to pure interpretations, but how the reader will do it mostly will be influenced by his demonetization. Of course, not everybody will just accept what the book tells them without thinking for themselves but most fans don't.

"Bang", he said softly, withdrawing the fake gun. "See you on the street."

Alone, this single line can be interpreted in many different ways. Is it K being angry and threatening Ronan? Or maybe Joseph breaking inside because he was proofen, he really has no one? It all depends on the reader.

Second, when asked on her tumblr, if she'll ever write anything from K's pov (in 2015, before The Raven King was published), M*ggie said she won't, because: she already explored that type of character ("the thoughts and motivations of a powerful, suicidal, creative person with few inhibitions") in Sinner (2014, spin-off/companion book of her older series, The Wolves of Mercy Falls, 2009-2011 for the main three) with Cole St. Clair; that writing through PoV of such character is emotionally and mentally draining for her (which is understandable); and even if she wanted to explore it again in the future, she would through a different character's lenses than K's.

Let's talk about St. Clair.

The characters of Cole and Kavinsky have some similarities: both are drug addicts, who are rich.

That's where they end.

Cole was a famous musician, having the stereotypical rock-star life (drugs, alcohol and sleeping with fans included) with good family relationships, while K was a son of a mobster who tried to kill him and a mother who was a drug-addict herself. While their perspectives would have similarities, there is also other problems. Cole St. Clair already got PoVs in his series and a stand-alone book, Joseph Kavinsky got nothing and will get nothing. Cole had friends that cared for him and helped him, Joseph Kavinsky had his Dream Pack (which whom we don't know what type of relation he had) and his customers who we can safely say, only cared for what he can provide them with, he tried to befriend or start a relation with Ronan who rejected even the idea of it and no one even reached out to him. Cole got his happy ending and (hinted at) a girl he loved, K got rejected by everyone and committed public suicide. (Now, I heard a opinion that K didn't commit suicide, because the dragon killed him. Here is the thing, K could move out of the way multiple times, even Ronan shouted to him to move. But he didn't. He watched the dragon fly towards him and just said "The world is a nightmare.". He choose death.)

People wanted K's PoV, because they wanted to know, what pushed him to do what he did in TDT. But, in my opinion, even if M*ggie gave K pov, she would use it to further demonize him than to make the reader understand him more. She already did write a whole post exaggerating and straw-manning the canon, just to also say "Kavinsky has a very logical backstory that leads him to this place". A backstory we as the reader never truly see and one she forgot to write into her book. At the end, she truly cared only about Ronan.

Xenophobia

The Raven Cycle is a very flawed and problematic series, there are already many other posts taking about racism, misogyny, lack of diversity and many other issues with it, but in regards to Kavinsky, I'll only touch on the xenophobia. (I could talk also about portray of metal-illness, but I'm not the person to talk about it and I would feel comfortable with it.)

Kavinsky is a stereotype of a Slavic person, one we see in American media since the Cold War, especially in 80s movies. The Evil Russian trope. The son of the mobster, drug-addict, forger who can get you anything even illegal stuff, a thief.

When describing Kavinsky, one of the things Ronan mentions is: "refugee's face, hollowed-eyed and innocent". One could argue, "refugee" has many meanings, but boiling it down, is a person who came to the country to escape and seek a refuge. Many people moved to America to find a better life, in the believe of the American Dream, and many of them where driven to do that, especially from ex-Eastern Bloc countries. Kavinsky's Bulgarian, unknown if an immigrant himself or a son of immigrants, but the point still stands.

About Blue’s comment "import from somewhere else" I don't need to say much. First, obvious: You don't import people, only foreign goods, like cars. Second: this shows, he is "the other" in the eyes of the characters.

There is more to it, then just the physical description. We need to look at the outfit he wears. White tank top, white sunglasses, a small earring in one ear and a gold chain around his neck. This gives two images: one of a typical douche-bag, party asshole and the rich kid; the second of a Slavic stereotype, especially of a Russian criminal. If Margaret wanted to make K even bigger stereotype, she would dress him like a dress/gopnik, in a tracksuit.

The thing is: M*ggie could had saved the situation if she had subverted the stereotypes. E.g. K didn't wanting anything to do with the crime live, his family was forced into by circumstances or K being the guy to get stuff from, but he isn't doing it for any gain.

The truth is, K being Bulgarian doesn't add anything to his character, except for xenophobia. (Personally, I tried to find where the surname "Kavinsky" came from. It is Slavic, that much I can tell you for sure, but the rest is my speculation and searching. My best guesses are: Russian (it appears most commonly in Russian, after USA and a use in Russia set novel) or Polish (because it has uncanny simulates to the surname "Kawiński", if it was anglicized like e.g. "Kamiński" into "Kaminsky"). This isn't a common surname and with Peter from the To All the Boys trilogy and the musician, it's hard to find any information.)

But for now, K's portray is one of the many issues.

The Dream Pack or the lack of it

The Dream Pack is the unofficial name for K's group, with whom he parties and races (the canon name is "Kavinsky's Pack of Dogs" which is ugh). They're unfortunately, a non-characters. It's bolt to even call them background characters. Their portray, or again, lack of it, leaves them as props, their only role is to be K's followers and to show K as a leader on a equal ground as Gansey. We're lead to believe, they are like Kavinsky, yet another raven boys, and to make are main characters so “not like the other raven boys”. Problem rises in connection to the previous point, out of four members, only one has an English surname.

Prokopenko is a Ukrainian surname and for his description, we get "ears like wingnuts", "crooked shoulders" and his voice as "milky with drugs". It's said he had "recently attained official crony status", and was noted being in close desecrate to K for a while. Later we discover Proko is a forgery, a dream creature like Matthew and Aurora. It's heavily implied the real Prokopenko is dead, but if K had something to do with it, is unknown. He is the only character to "chortle", which Margaret said she hates and also "fratty boys and the chortling men they turn into". From this we can deduce, that not only the Dream Pack and people at K's parties but all raven boys (with the exception of the main characters) were writen like this on purpose as the personification of everything M*ggie hates. We are also informed, he drives a Golf.

Skov, who according to a deleted scene, full name is Blake Skovron, is polish (or at least anglicized version of it). In said deleted scene he's described as "major asshole, minor bigot" (unfortunately I couldn't find it to confirm it). The only canon stuff about him is: he drives a RX-7 (Mazda RX-7).

Jiang is Chinese, making him one of three canon Asian characters we see in the series (not counting Henry's father, because he's just mentioned, same goes for the Vancouver crowd). Like Proko, his role is a little bigger. In the Raven King, after Ronan finally returns to school after a long time of skipping, he tells him: "Hey, man, I thought you'd died". Ronan doesn't respond, but tells the reader he doesn't want to see Jiang outside of his car, racing. The only other thing we know about him: he drives a Supra (Toyota Supra).

Swan is the only one with an English name, but all we know about him is: he drives Volkswagen Golf, one that matches Proko's.

(For future writers: what car a character drives, isn't a personality trait.)

With the already minimal diversity, this shows the non-Americans as the antagonists or at least "the worst". On the opposite side, we have our main characters. Richard Campbell Gansey III, who has the whitest and British name I ever saw; Adam Parrish, born and raised in Henrietta, Virginia; Ronan Lynch, son of a Irish immigrant, whose Irish identity starts and ends on tit-bits; Blue Sargent, who is half-tree and ambiguous, but was drawn as white by the author multiple times (Yes, I am aware of the Instagram post, but Margaret herself said, she isn't confirming anything that isn't already written in her books. She couldn't even confirm Adam's hair color and made a joke out of it.) The only exception is Noah Czerny, whose surname is Slavic (probably Czech), but this bares no effect on his character.

The Dream Pack are the whole communities babies, created by head-canons and fanons, their relations with Kavinsky and themselves are explored, who they are as people, their appearance, their interests... This is beautiful how many different versions and interpretations of non-existing characters is there. (I, myself also made a version for a rewrite, based partly on the fanon.)

But at the end of the day, the fans did the author's job of creating believe friend group and in the end, their only function was to show, Kavinsky is a king, just like Gansey.

#joseph kavinsky #the dream pack #anti maggie stiefvater #anti raven cycle #anti trc

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mirrorballls · 3 years

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* liana liberato, cis woman + she/her | you know rory hanna, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cool by soccer mommy like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that loud pen clicking rapidly in the corner of kahlo’s, collegiate sweatshirt two sizes too big, and constantly waiting for that deep breath of relief: a longing hope that one day, it’ll all settle down thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 26th, so they’re a virgo, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hey team.

admins made poor decision and let me take up two more muses. i want to plot but we all know i’m butt ass slow at getting to those messages so. i’ll probably make a day of that once i finish starters this all makes sense in my little twisted head.

basics.

full name: aurora catherine hanna. answers exclusively to rory. birthday: august 26, 1998. big three: virgo sun. aquarius moon. capricorn rising. sexuality: bisexual. occupation: social media manager for the local paper. neighborhood: lives in her childhood home on orion avenue.

bio.

rory was born the youngest of three and it shows. i’m not saying third child syndrome is real, but if it is, rory has it. her family was seemingly average in every way: the white picket fence, the house on orion avenue, parents happily married, and not many curveballs coming their way. but as the youngest, rory has always been more of a self-starter. from a young age, she was both fiercely independent and constatnly doing whatever it took to get her parents attention: it’s a paradox, but it’s who she was. she burned the candle at both ends, making sure she was taken care of, on the right track, but always looking for a pat on the back about it.

education had always been a priority in the hanna family: both of their parents were teachers and they were sure to instill a sense of how important an education was. and it left marks on them all in a different way. for her brother, it meant pursuing teaching (smiles at austin) and for her, it was turning her education into something competitive, something she was so passionate about getting the absolute most out of, she was willing to go to extreme lengths. she, like many others, will blame it on the aftermath of gifted-and-talented programs, and being made to feel like she had to achieve at this high level or fail, no middle of the road.

and so, school became almost her singular focus. she was naturally clever, smart enough to learn little ways to come up for air, but for the most part, it was always at the forefront of her mind. and for that, she became her mother’s prize jewel. she would beam and laugh and joke with her bookclub friends about how rory would one day be at duke with the best of them. and her third child syndrome just ate that up. she loved the attention and the praise that dedicating herself to school got her, and she’d do anything to keep that high for a while.

so high school kind of sucked. she had her sights set on duke and knew, that to actually be able to go, she’d have to get enough scholarship money to make that feasible. because the more she talked to her mom about school, the more she indulged her desire to see rory succeed, almost as if she was living vicariously through her, school kept getting bigger. because at first it was getting to the top of her class. then it was duke. then it was law school, preferably ivy league. they had it all mapped out, ready for rory to just succeed and make it happen.

but obviously it’s not as easy as just succeeding. for four years, she was stretched thin. she got involved with as many clubs as she could, she took as many ap classes as her bloated schedule would allow. she played it cool around her friends, whenever she was actually able to see her friends, but for the most part, she spent high school holed up in the library or her bedroom studying and working on whatever paper or project would click her along on her way to duke.

but it all paid off. in the end, she got into duke, and was able to check off that box. but she also got into university of north carolina, and they were a lot more generous with the scholarships. she got a full ride, and with ambitions beyond undergrad, it just made sense to go ahead and take it, save her money for the big league law school she would pick out later. plus, she still got the satisfaction of knowing she got in, she had done enough to impress them, so she convinced herself that was all the payoff she needed.

she majored in journalism and political science, always with intentions of it being a solid base for law school. but she always had a preference for her journalism classes. she got really involved in campus publications and, while it wasn’t all consuming like high school extracurriculars had been, it was something she loved. she loved writing, she loved piecing together each week’s issue, she loved exploring her world through that lens, getting to shine a spotlight on the good and the bad in her community. if she had it her way, she’d pursue that full time. but she didn’t think that was possible.

about a year ago, around the time she was working on law school applications, her parents got divorced. it sent shockwaves through her family, rory and her siblings were largely blindsided by the decision, and it brought her to reconsider a lot of things. seeing her mother in this new light, it felt like half of her decisions for the past ten years had been made to please someone she felt like she didn’t even really know.

so, partly out of hedonism and partly out of spite, she decided to defer law school, eventually deciding to all together not go. she was breaking the cycle and doing something for herself for once. she would take her degree and pursue journalism, she would keep living with her dad and largely cut out her mom, she’d become the person she wanted to be and not who she was expected to be.

but living an amazing life out of spite is harder than she expected. she’s working on finding her footing again, but she didn’t expect to be out in the real world so soon. she took the only job the local paper had available, and she’s hoping to work her way up to writing and editing more, but for now, she’s taking what she can get.

personality wise she’s very determined and stubborn when it matters but she’s also always been a little impish. when she took breaks from studying to go out, she wanted it to count, so she’s been known to raise a little hell. just wanted to make sure she didn’t read as fully joyless nerd even though she is like at least a third joyless nerd.

connections.

high school friends!! rory came back to irving on the weekends/in the summer, but she kind of fell out of touch with a lot of her closest friends from high school. i picture her to have been close with a bunch of other smart girls with ambitions, so maybe its just a matter of them all being in town again to get back in the swing of things

summer flings!!! she hasn’t done a lot of dating dating, but she was prone to messing around a little in the summer. maybe ur muse was apart of that! they could be on the same page as her or maybe they wanted something more and it just didn’t pan out.

former rivals!!! maybe if they were in high school at the same time, your muse and rory were rivals. they still be rivals, and your muse has the upper hand since rory gave up on law school, or maybe they’re more on the same page now.

im very bad at thinking of these. but i would love to make plots with you all :)

but im gonna keep this short and sweet because i have Another Intro to write.... ugh

#irvingintro #1 down 1 to go then im free to play again.....

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hklnvgl · 3 years

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Fan Fic Tag Game 2020

Ao3 Name: dorypop

Fandoms: hm mostly the raven cycle but i’ve also written for all for the game, harry potter and avatar this year

1. Fic that was the hardest to write/you spent the most time on: skinny fleas. i started writing it before summer, but then i had trouble finding aurora’s voice, and then i started writing other stuff that came easier to me so i just kept procrastinating on this one. but it’s literally the only adam & aurora fic currently up on ao3 and i love the idea and the first 2k words, so i just had to write to be able to read it, you know? i had two weeks of leave from work in october and i spent them finishing wips, and even though i needed some more time after that for the finishing touches i really applied myself to this one.

2. Fic you spent the least time on/easiest to write: the snow is melting (aftg). i honestly had the idea and started typing at a break at work and i didn’t bother to fix plot holes and stuff. i just wrote it in like two days and posted it and moved on with my life.

3. Longest Fic: i’m going to consider all 5 parts in my fifteen years later series as different fics, so it’ll be the miracle came with a pop (52379 words | hp). i didn’t write all that in 2020 but i did finish it this year so let’s say it counts.

4. Shortest Fic: i don't want to screw this up (536 words | atla). it was a short ficlet born from a tumblr prompt.

5. Fic you were nervous to post: hm so i wrote a kinda quarantine/covid fic back in march and at first it was supposed to be this cute “and they were quarantined together” thing but then my brain started providing unhelpful info and the only way i found to deal with how scary everything felt was to write that. i then got a very angry anon comment which was probably my first ever anon hate? so i’m now a bit ashamed of that fic? but i’m not taking it down bc ao3 is an archive so it’ll stay there. plus i like the title (spring will be spring)

6. How do you choose your titles: oh boy. ok so in summer 2019 i started reading haiku poetry from a very pretty bilingual edition of poems by akutagawa. i just fell in love with the format bc it’s normally very visual and evocative but also super short, so my attention span doesn’t suffer. since then i’ve bought a few more books in the same collection and i dog-ear the pages of the poems that i like or that i think could work as titles while i read them. later, when looking for a title, i sit myself to think what the fic is about and browse those dog-eared poems in search of the perfect one. sometimes i’ll also google “spring+haiku” or something if i can’t find the perfect one. then i just choose a line from the poem. i know it’s a lot of work and probably nobody notices but! it makes me happy!

7. Fave Fic you read: oh i got so many! i bookmark all my fav finished fics

8. Fave Fic you wrote: in vino veritas (drunk pynch). it looks really similar to what i was picturing in my mind.

9. Fave comment: i appreciate and love all my comments but i especially like the few i’ve got with requests/suggestions of things to possibly include in my fifteen years later series, bc then i get to plan around those things to maybe put them in the text and it’s super fun!

10. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: i don’t want to rewrite it at all, but one of the aus that i’ve written that i think has space to grow is there is a world (my hogwarts au)

11. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

(it’s from part 6 of the fifteen years later series!)

Adam’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Harvey.

ronan says to tell u foods ready

Adam snorted. Ronan usually yelled at him to come down.

Adam got up and washed his hands, feeling a pang of shame curl around his ribs. Ronan was probably as freaked out as Adam was, and Adam was here feeling sorry for himself and having a mild anxiety attack while Ronan was braving the fort downstairs. He should be supporting him instead, kissing away the wrinkle he always got between his eyebrows when he worried. This was all Adam’s idea to begin with.

12. What was your goal for your fics this year? Did you meet it?: i didn’t really have a goal? i wasn’t planning on writing so much this year actually! back in january i was only thinking i wanted to finish the miracle came with a pop and then never write long fic ever again, and i’ve mostly succeeded—i just need to think of the installments in my harvey series as separate fics, and i’m good to go!

13. What is your goal for your fics next year?: i have the idea for one more installment for harvey that i’m definitely going to write, and after that i think i might take a break for a while (but maybe i’ll get new ideas?? so i’ll never stop???)

14. Highlight of your fandom year: i’ve met really wonderful people through fandom this year. it’s been hellish and i’ve mostly fled every other social media/platform except from tumblr and ao3, so it’s really wonderful that i still want to come here and talk about fictional stuff

15. Highlight of your personal year: oh well it’s been quite bad? mostly due to covid, sure, but i also had some major things come up back in february and early march that were quite hard, and then i had to learn to live with constant changes of plans. i’ve redecorated my whole room though and it feels really welcoming and cozy so that’s a great thing 2020 has brought.

thank you very much to @creativefiend19 for tagging me!! i’m tagging @ailec-12 @pumpkinpadparadscha & everyone else who feels like doing it!

#trc #fic #aftg #hp #d #tag game #skinny fleas #the snow is melting #the miracle came with a pop #15 years later #spring will be spring #there is a world #snow on bamboo grass #in vino veritas

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absintheum · 4 years

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day 1 - brioni

ohSundown left the shore warm. You were always awake to watch the last rays of natural light, as the day approached it’s end and the night blended into it. You remember reading lines of a poem describing the moments of shift between the light and dark, but you can’t recall the exact words. Something about the rose-tinted fingers of the aurora and the tentacles of darkness holding gently onto the metaphorical hand. You never understood what the point of that poem was.

The moments in which you were alone on the shore were getting fewer and farther, between your self-imposed seclusion in your secondary hive and the quicksand pits that were beginning to engulf all of the shoreline of the island you called your first home. That and your sleeping habits’ change due to natural aging. Quicksand, you had learned, was one of life’s few certainties among taxes, death and the feeling of existential dread felt as you looked into the horizon at dusk, from a wave riding board placed strategically, so it would float on the may- or not yet- be quicksand. There was something cathartic about it. You couldn’t place it, nor name it, but there was a feeling worming its way inside of your pusher. It was a mixed feeling, which left notes of bitterness in your mouth and sweetness in your throat. You could never tell if it was positive or not.

After the sun had sunk below the line of ocean you called horizon, you got up, not bothering to brush off your wetsuited dress the sand that would be soon washed away by the saltwater. You had been clever in your youth: no matter the quicksand season and moment of cycle, you had installed a few paths of low-density wave riding boards. You had 8 sweeps of experience in not being dead via the sand; you were the unsinkable. The occasional piece of no troll’s treasure that would wash ashore couldn’t say the same.

Some, you had rescued out of curiosity and sparks of environmental awareness, while some were already so buried in that you couldn’t be bothered to dig them up. The quicksand giveth, the quicksand gaveth. That was the law of quicksand.

The sea floor was no exception: the conditions in the place you decided to construct your primary hive was just so perfect that in the correct season, the underwater floor itself could be dangerous (if the many sea lusii, including your own, weren’t already making the area a bit too cozy). Said season wasn’t due to kick in for a quarter at least, to your estimate. You’d take the smidgeon of added safety to dive in, swimming to the depths that allowed your favourite anemones to grow. The dive was always your favourite part of the day, it freshened up your mind and reminded you that you were alive, in one way. It was peaceful, to soak underwater and to allow your gills to breathe. To allow your fins to expand and contract to aid in your movements.

Your webbed hands had grown calloused from picking them- it stang, but you’d endure it. Compared to your medousoid lusus’, it was the gentle touch of a quadrantmate. The anemones you picked were more than what you’d have gotten last time, they filled the space in your arms as the gentle sting spread from your fingers and palms to the skin of your forearms. You sucked it up, the air of the night would be cooling enough. In two hours’ time, your skin would be good as new. In a way, it was similar to the practice of urchincupunture: eventually, you’d develop a resistance to the toxin and your skin would stay tense and smooth. You couldn’t eat the sea urchins needles, however.

Once the amount satisfied you and the sting became uncomfortable, you sprang upwards, to the surface. The shore had cooled down significantly, and so had the air. Your sore and slightly flushed skin felt relief, where it could. You ran on the boards and back inside, there was still work to be done before you could take a breather: anemones don’t milk themselves yet. You wish that was a saying, but you seemed to be the only user, despite the attempts to lure your friends into using it.

As you deposited the bounty of the dusk onto the table in the sliving room, you shook your arms, as if movement would soothe the dull ache (it didn’t, but it felt as if it was right to do so). You recounted the amount on your fingers and in your head and attempted to open your shelltop and almost jolted in a sudden wave of pain. How you managed to forget each time, it was above you.

You tried opening your shelltop again, using your teeth as leverage and your chin to guide the cruisor across the screen and open a flashing notification on a text box, and your voice to text before you even tried to think about typing.

--- hibisquisiteNatterer [HN] is bubbling to cnidarialClone [CC] ---

HN: v^v^ heeeeeyyyyyy bubble boo ^v^v HN: v^v^ are you awake yet? you should be, but in case you’re not ^v^v HN: v^v^ i miss you so much! the pile isn’t the same without you!! but!!! there is a new friend waiting for you!!!!! CC: ŒŒ== i’m awakŒ plŒnty and swanky CC: ŒŒ== i miss you tŒrribly too! just rŒsist thŒ wŒŒk, i’ll bŒ back soonŒr than a fresh bottlŒ of anŒmonŒ milk HN: v^v^ one entire week!! one week is too long!!! its an entire perigree’s time!!!!!! HN: v^v^ also i swear.. you... and your obscure figures of speech…… HN: v^v^ pale for you…. nonetheless…. but you do rip a shred of my soul when you mention it… CC: ŒŒ== i’ll sŒŒ to it pŒrsonally to throw it into a dronŒdustry standardizŒd papŒrwork shrŒddŒr whŒn i get thŒrŒ

You are a girl of simple pleasures. You love to torment your pale girlfriend with insufferable phrases nobody will use and she loves to call you “bubble boo”. You cannot deprive each other of this and you’re living for it.

HN: v^v^ sigh!!!!!!!!!!! ^v^v HN: v^v^ one week is an acceptable wait….. afterall…… HN: v^v^ ….. bubble boo…… HN: v^v^ >;D

What, are you supposed not to swoon?

CC: ŒŒ== palŒ for you too <> CC: ŒŒ== but i supposŒ that you’ll think again, for thŒrŒ is a dad hold on i’m ta- shit no dŒlŒtŒ dŒvlŒtŒ CC: ŒŒ== fuck nO WAIT CC: ŒŒ== SHIT HN: v^v^ are you on s2ht???????????? ^v^v CC: ONŒ MOMŒNT PLEASŒ

You disable the speech to text, again, with your chin. Your dad is awake and wants to be fed and you have to cut the chit-chat short. It was a good coincidence, however: your secret surprise of a gift can keep it’s title for another day. As the window is closed, you sigh. Dad knows it’s the day you leave again, this time for almost a perigree. He’d come with you, when you were younger, but you were well past the age of needing a chaperone to your love visits. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to enjoy the freedom of what is left of their fun years before the lacrosse bat of being hurled into space swung you into space.

At least feeding time was fun.

Your dad hunted for itself when it wanted to, but you also enjoyed looking from the glass walls of the uppest lower floor as the feeding brine was poured into his designated block from a specifically designed pipe, and the thousands of tiny little crustacean were consumed. It made his mostly translucent body gain a faintly coloured tint between the violet of your blood and the purple of the caste below it. In a spark of childish genius, juvenile you had decided that the quickest way to make way to the lower floors of your primary home into the airlock of your submarine secondary one was going to be a slide, spiraling downwards. It was a bad decision and sometimes you’d bring a book to read until motion sickness kicked in. The stairs were added in a second moment, as you matured a sense for interior design and a taste for not being hurled face-first into the steel walls of a submarine. That last part was solved with padding the area of presumed landing.

Landing face-first into plush and pillow is way more pleasant.

Remembering you left the key item for the event upstairs isn’t. Begrudgingly climbing up enough sets of stairs to give you quads for days wasn’t either.

A second slide gave you time to contemplate that maybe you should have rethought the design of this slide entirely and not have taken it a second time. A second thump that accompanied your arrival at the plush landing station confirmed your thoughts. A look at the clutched anemones confirms they are still intact, and relief accompanies that. Their sting has subsided, finally they can be refined as your recipe intends. Your submarine is fully equipped and furnished, ready to leave at the snap of your fingers. You’re ready to depart and from the windows of the piloting chamber, the dark depths look into you. You look up and back into the dark night waters. You can barely make out the speck that is supposed to be the green moon. You flip the autopilot switch on and let the whirring of machinery soothe the loneliness.

#nanowrimo #ddp's fantroll corner #i went through the trouble of exacoding them with 2 different violets on the og gdoc and apparentl its not working on tumblr #please someone kill me

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winters-cursed-king · 4 years

Text

When The Lights All Went Out- Chapter 1

Fandom: The Aurora Cycle fic

Summary: Psych ward au ft. Asking for help is hard and Tyler sometimes needs to back off a bit

TWs: Psychotic episode

Read on AO3 || Chapter 2

To celebrate the end of the second week at the Legion, Zila got a new roommate.

The first two days after she’d been admitted to the Legion, Zila had a roommate called Katie. She’d been fine, if a bit too interested in conversations for Zila’s liking and cried more often than smiled, but nothing particularly bad to complain about.

Except Katie had left after only four days and Zila was still at the Legion after two weeks.

And she was bored.

There was nothing stimulating at the Legion. Her books had been confiscated for a reason Zila could not fathom. She had been told she was allowed no practical experiments to accompany her theories. There was definitely no chance of being given paper and pencils for the nights.

Zila was supposed to sleep at night.

It didn’t matter that Zila couldn’t sleep, or that the sleep meds wore off too quickly so she was still plagued by nightmares and staring at the blank ceiling for hours as she counted and multiplied, or that with the windows boarded it was impossible for Zila to count the stars and so she couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to. Or that Zila couldn’t sleep in the dark.

Zila was supposed to sleep and the Legion wouldn’t provide anything that might disrupt that.

They would, however, provide a new roommate. That seemed very counterproductive if you asked Zila.

No one ever asked Zila.

And the new roommate- Auri O’Malley- was sitting up in bed with the standard issue purple blanket around her waist and a pyjama top that Zila assumed must be yellow falling off her shoulders. In the dramatic darkness Zila could barely make out her figure, but she’d seen Auri earlier that evening.

She was adequately attractive. Onyx black hair curled around her jaw and fell across her eyes, with a white streak down one side. Her eyes were dark like the night sky at 2am, and the freckles across her cheeks were like the constellations that were scattered across it.

Zila was here to heal. Not to create intimate relationships based off attraction.

She had been admitted to the Legion to heal, at least. She didn’t feel like she was doing a lot of healing, and neither did any of the staff apparently.

After 3548 seconds of silence, Auri spoke.

It was whispered, and rough, and almost too quiet for Zila to hear.

“They’re coming for me.”

Zila knew nothing about Auri. Nothing other than she was an eighteen year old girl who had just been admitted to a psych ward, and therefore probably had no one coming for her.

“Who’s coming for you?” Zila whispered back.

“They’re on the floor. Waiting for me.”

Zila wasn’t very good with people, or feelings. But she’d had enough psychotic episodes of her own to know- maybe- how to help.

Big maybe.

“That sounds scary,” Zila said.

Auri curled up tighter on herself. “They’ll take me. They’re finally here. They’ll take me away with their big claws and teeth and I’ll never be heard from again.”

“How long have they been looking for you?”

Auri blinked. “16. Since I was 16.”

“How old are you now?”

“18.”

Zila tilted her head. “I’m 18, too. My name is Zila.”

“Are you one of them?”

Auri’s voice had turned guarded and harsher, so Zila softened hers. She was pretty sure she softened it.

Emotions and feelings and social interactions were hard.

“Why would I be one of them?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Auri said. “They’re everywhere.”

“That sounds terrifying. And very upsetting.”

Auri nodded sincerely. “It is. They hide behind my trophies and my door.”

“What are your trophies for?”

Zila made an effort to keep her voice as quiet as possible. The staff would’ve stopped making their rounds by now, but they were never too far away.

And Zila was supposed to be asleep.

Bad things happened when Zila wasn’t asleep.

She dug her fingernails into her knee- quickly pushing aside the nausea and the question of whether or not to bring that particular thought up with the doctor tomorrow- and focused on Auri’s words. This was about Auri. She was supposed to be helping Auri.

“Track running,” Auri said. “I’ve got a couple of certificates from geography competitions, but all of the trophies are from track.”

“Do you enjoy track?”

“Yeah. My dad says he doesn’t know where I get it from, because he used to go out of his way to skip gym in high school.”

“Your father seems nice.”

Auri nodded. “He is. I hate him sometimes and he’s infuriating, but I do love him a lot. I like my mum better, though.”

Now Zila was out of her depth. Speaking technically, conversations were a matter of interpersonal relations and relaying information. And Zila had no relations or information to share on this topic.

But Auri was almost calm so Zila couldn’t stop now.

“What is your mother like?”

“She’s really nice,” Auri smiled. “She attends all of my races. She used to sing lullabies to me every night up until I was ten, which is kinda lame I know.”

“It’s not.”

The silence that settled was more comfortable than it had been in the two weeks Zila had been at the Legion. Less harsh and unforgiving and full of memories that Zila didn’t want. More soft and hopeful.

“Zila?” Auri asked after 83 seconds.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

As Auri’s breaths turned soft, Zila stared up at the ceiling, running through times tables in her head.

Maybe this new roommate would be a tolerable companion.

#The Aurora Cycle #Aurora Rising #Aurora Burning #Fic #Fanfiction #Zila Madran #Aurora Jie-Lin O'Malley #Finian de Karren de Seel #Kaliis Gilwraeth #Tyler Jones #Scarlett Jones #Cat Brannock

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ladyeowyn · 4 years

Note

what’s the aurora cycle??? It looks like something I’d enjoy and wondered if you recommend it?

hello 😊 thank you for asking me about one of my absolute favourite books of the last year ever because I’m always ready to gush about it!! 💖💖

the Aurora Cycle is a scifi book series by the writer duo Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff, perhaps you might now them as the authors of the Illuminae Files. the first book in this series is Aurora Rising and the second book Aurora Burning comes out in less than a month (btw look at the beautiful covers of the series with Charlie Bowater’s artwork 😭). it’s a fast paced multi-pov action-packed adventure set in space. there’s a great cast of main characters with whom you are very likely to fall in love (they all became my adopted children the moment I set down the book). there are some hilarious moments and witty conversations, but as it is common with this writer duo, there are also dark and mysterious elements to the story, which add to the suspense. I absolutely flew through the book the first time I was reading it because it was so gripping and fun and I just needed to know what would come next.

of course, it needs to be said that it might not be everyone’s cup of tea (because not every book fits everyone’s taste and that’s all right) but: if you like scifi books, misfits, good laugh, shenanigans in space and some chilling mystery, and perhaps if you also read and enjoyed the story of the Illuminae Files (or maybe even the dynamics of the Six of Crows duology), go and take a look at the premise of the story on Goodreads and please, definitely give it a consideration! the tagline “They’re not the heroes we deserve. They’re just the ones we could find. Nobody panic.” really says all you need to know to be honest. 😂 plus, now it’s the perfect time to read the first book because you won’t have to wait a long time to get your hands on the next book.

if you have any questions at all, definitely let me know, I’ll be more than happy to answer it. and if you do decide to pick it up and you enjoy it, you’re more than welcome to come to me and share any and all feelings you might have. thank you again for this question, sorry this turned out so long and have a wonderful day 💖💖

#usergalaxy #galaxydanvers #answered #nf #i'm sorry #i got carried away #i just really love the book asdfghjk

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princesweetpea · 5 years

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I Found | Sweet Pea x Aurora Jones (oc)

All Chapters Here

Chapter: Six

Warnings: Mentions of violence, brief mentions of physical abuse, brief mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of substance abuse.

READ IT ON AO3

Rory laid in her bed for two hours after Sweet Pea walked out of her trailer, mentally beating herself up and screaming curses into the empty air. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I do that? She felt so disgusted with herself, and by the fact that he had initiated it in the first place. Did he though? I reached up his shirt… Her eyes wandered to the window. It was dark out now; she had barely felt time move. She glanced at her alarm clock on the counter: eight o’clock. She sighed.

A knock on the door broke her out of her self-deprecation. Maybe Sweet Pea was here to yell at her for what they did or to tell her that it would never happen again, which she would wholeheartedly agree with. Even though it was unarguably the best sex I’ve ever had… Another knock sounded on the metal door. She shook the thought out of her head as she grabbed her dark green silk robe and pulled it onto her body before heading toward the door. She took a deep breath before opening it, and there stood Mambo, which surprised her. His eyes were red and puffy, his face streaked with semi-dry tears and blood still on his face from earlier that day.

“Mambo, how did you get here?” He narrowed his eyes at her and dead-panned at the same time.

“I walked,” he stated flatly, walking up the steps as he pushed past her to get into the camper. Rory cocked her head to herself with her tongue in her cheek, mumbling a sarcastic, ‘Please, come in.’ He ignored her, striding over to one of the armchairs, throwing his uniform coat on the floor. “Nice place. Very bohemian.” She smiled at his comment.

“Jughead said the same thing,” She chuckled, walking over to the sink to wet a cloth before handing it to him so he could wipe the blood and dirt from his face. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Peter.” He shrugged.

“He let you walk here by yourself?”

“I’m not twelve anymore, Rory,” He groaned, laying his head back. “And for the record, he tried to come along and have Lara drive us. I left while he was grabbing his letterman. I’m shocked that he hadn’t called you.” Rory gave him a disapproving look before padding over to her phone. She had three missed calls, two voicemails, and seven messages from him. Her phone had been on silent. She sheepishly hugged the robe tighter around her.

“You shouldn’t have walked. It’s dark out, and we’re in the southside now. I don’t know what all you know, but Riverdale isn’t safe anymore.” She warned him solemnly. He waved her off.

“I know how to defend myself,” he said as he pulled out a switchblade, waving it in the air back and forth a couple of times before setting it on the small table between the two armchairs. Rory’s eyes widened, and before she could speak, he added, “Don’t scold me. I had to, in a place like Seaside.”

“What the hell happened to you, Nicky?” She asked, trying her best to keep her horror out of her tone.

“I grew up,” he began. “I’ve gone through a lot of shit. But I’m not ready to tell you what happened to me.” He shrugged and turned his head to stare out a window. Yes, he had grown up. Since the day Mambo was sent to that school in Seaside three years prior, Rory went down every rabbit hole she could find to dig up information on it, or maybe even some dirt that she could show to her parents to force them to bring him home. However, no matter where or what she searched online, nothing ever came up. It was as if the school didn’t even exist.

She sighed and plopped down onto the chair adjacent her brother. “I’ll be here whenever you are, though. Don’t ever forget that I’m always in your corner. I always have been.” Rory stated, trying to catch his eyes. He simply nodded, seeming to be in deep thought. He suddenly turned to face her.

“It smells like sex in here.” He stated simply. Rory’s eyes widened and her cheeks began to heat up.

“No… It doesn’t.” She tried to play it off.

“Okay, but it does.”

“How do you even know what sex smells like?” She questioned him with narrowed eyes. He slow grin crept onto his face as he turned his head to face the window again. “Nicholas!”

“It wasn’t an all-boys school, you know,” He shrugged, his grin going wider. Rory groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Can I stay here tonight? And possibly longer?” He was so quick to change the subject, though it didn’t seem that he was embarrassed or anything.

“You can stay as long as you’d like. There’s an air mattress rolled up in the cabinet,” He nodded at her as he stood and walked to the cupboard she was pointing at. On his way, he stopped to examine one of the bookshelves, picking up a set of tarot cards. “This was mom’s camper from when she was a teenager. Most of this stuff is hers.”

“I recognize these,” He nodded, flipping through the deck. Rory cocked her head at him curiously. “They were in some pictures she showed me, like from when she was pregnant with you and Peter.”

“Oh.” Rory simply nodded at him, though she had never seen the pictures he was talking about. They talked for a few more hours, from everything that Mambo had missed since being sent away, to the musical and Midge’s death, and then they stopped on their mother.

“How… how did it happen?” He asked softly. Rory shifted uncomfortably. He had just found out about her death today. God, this is so fucked up.

“Are you sure?” She asked, and he nodded slightly after a moment of thinking. “She was… run over. But by people themselves. Trampled to death. On riot night.” She cleared her throat. Tears stung at her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. He nodded again, slower this time as he processed the information.

“Was she still using?” Mambo asked tentatively. Rory’s breath hitched and she shrugged. “Told you she was done right?” He rolled his eyes knowingly. The siblings were all too familiar with their mother’s drug abuse cycle. She’d frequently use, made it obvious, but then lie and tell them that she had stopped. “I’m surprised that that isn’t how she bowed out, honestly.” He said harshly. The comment stung, but Rory agreed. By the time Rory looked at the clock again, it was almost midnight.

“I’m going to take a quick shower before bed. Do you want to go ahead and set up the air mattress while I’m in there?” Rory asked, picking up her pajamas before striding toward the tiny bathroom at the back of the camper. “There’s also snacks in the pantry, and a few different drinks in the mini fridge.” Mambo nodded in acknowledgement and moved to the floor to assemble his sleeping arrangement.

Rory stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade down her body. She sighed in contentment, feeling today’s stress and shame wash off of her, along with the remnants of Sweet Pea’s touch. She immediately felt anger surge through her, both for Sweet Pea and herself, as she washed her hair. She truly hated him. He wasn’t even mildly irritating; he was so much worse. She felt nauseated. She grabbed her soapy loofah and roughly scrubbed her body for what seemed like hours. She sat down and brought her knees to her chest and stated that way for a while. After rinsing away her regret, she stepped out of the shower and toweled off. She could hear her small television on in the other room. When she opened the door, however, Mambo was nowhere to be seen.

“Mambo?” There was no answer. “Nick?” She looked out the window over her counter and saw him sitting on the ground in front of her camper, a small fire burning in front of him in a makeshift fire pit he must have constructed. She carefully stepped over the air mattress and tip-toed outside. She gasped. His head snapped over to meet her surprised eyes as he was removing a Black Devil cigarette from behind his ear.

“I thought you’d be in there a little longer… I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He sighed, continuing to light the end of the cigarette and inhale. She just watched him, having a hard time seeing her once innocent baby brother smoking in front of her. She selfishly wished it were pot, because at least it wouldn’t be killing him the more he did it. How often did he do this? Does he smoke weed too?

“Didn’t mean for me to find out this way, or not at all?” She asked flatly. He smiled sheepishly back at her as he slowly let out a cloud of smoke. “A lot has changed.” She exhaled.

“More than you know,” he chuckled bitterly. She frowned at his comment, but didn’t push it any further, knowing that she would get the same answer from earlier. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. The moonlight bounced off of the remaining half of the sleek black cigarette before he pressed it into the ground to put it out. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t do that for you, just so you know. It’s just too cold out here.” He shrugged, gesturing to his bare torso before standing up, then proceeding to kick dirt over the fire and walked back inside. Rory rolled her eyes and followed him in.

He was surprisingly already in bed, but without a blanket or a pillow. She walked over to her cabinets and pulled a fluffy blanket and pillow out before throwing them at him. He mumbled his thanks and turned off the television. She flopped down onto her bed and pulled the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes. Just as she was ready to drift off, Mambo’s voice broke through the silence of the camper.

“I think I’m ready.”

“What?” Rory asked.

“I’m ready to tell you what happened to me. I think,” He explained quietly. She turned to face him on the floor, propping herself up on her elbow. “Yes, I’m sure,” He rolled his eyes, seeming to read her mind.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

“All of this,” he began, gesturing to himself. “I swear, it was not my choice. I used to be so kind.” He always had a flair for the dramatics whenever he spoke.

“I know you were. Why aren’t you now?” Rory smiled weakly at him.

“Because the best way not to get your heart broken is to pretend you don’t have one,” he shrunk a little, but there was no emotion in his voice. “To be fair, you haven’t even seen my bad side yet. Rory, I need you to be patient with me. Reflecting on the past has no real substance to me, but a lot of pain, both emotional and physical.” Rory winced a little when he said the word physical. She didn’t know if she was ready to hear this now. She thought she was, but if he’s been hurt, she didn’t know what she would do.

“If you keep ignoring your emotions like this, you will eventually break down.” She stated carefully.

“While that’s unfortunate, I need to tell you what happened to me, so I guess I can pay attention do them at another time,” he smiled weakly, his eyes dim. “My time at Seaside Correctional School was… the absolute worst experience of my entire life, thus far. Even worse than finding out that mom died. They abused us. They abused me the most, it seemed. More than just emotionally, or physically. It got worse… One of them tried to… They tried.” He emphasized, and his eyes got dark. Rory blinked. Surely not. Surely… Surely not. “That was the first time… The first time I really hurt someone, Rory.” She tried her best to keep her expression neutral.

“What did you do, Mambo?”

“I got this,” he started, pulling his switchblade from under his pillow and flipping it between his fingers, “a couple days prior. Some of the other kids would somehow smuggle in cigarettes and other contraband. I traded two packs of Black Devils for it after I was tired of being smacked around and no other adult believing me. One morning, one of the orderlies came in to start my electroconvulsive therapy. He was different from the lady that usually did it, but things were never the same all the time at that place so I didn’t question it. This guy was acting really weird from the start, though. I laid down and he put the things on my temples – I don’t know what they’re called, I was too pissed off at everything to find out. Anyway, he put the things on my temples, and I closed my eyes to prepare for the buzz feeling in my head. Then… nothing. It finally turns on after a minute. But suddenly, there’s a hand…” He pauses and swallows hard. “And it was where it definitely shouldn’t have been,” he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Tears threatened to spill out of Rory’s eyes as a million thoughts rushed through her head, but she remained silent, listening to him intently. He glanced over at her, slightly concerned that she may have fallen asleep. He was relieved when he saw her staring back at him. “Don’t cry for me. I stabbed him.”

She blinked. “You…”

“Stabbed him, yes. Before I knew what I was doing, the blade was swiftly snatched from under my pillow and then it was through his forearm. Then I yanked the whatever-they’re-calleds off of my head and ran out of my room. Seriously, stop crying. You’re making me uncomfortable,” He tried to joke to break the tension. She blinked again, then quickly wiped her face. “This continued to happen until I came home today. No one ever believed me, not even Dad. He thought I was just trying to get out of there, and to be fair, I was. I’m just so glad that the money stopped coming and I was sent home.”

“Mambo, if I knew… I’m so –”

“Sorry. I know. Dad wouldn’t let me talk to you, because he knew you would try to get me out of there,” He sighed. It was silent for a moment. “I was put in solitary for two months straight after that. They took my knife, but I stole it back when I got out. All of my classes were through a screen, and I was by myself the entire time, aside from the therapy sessions. I was put into solitary a lot. I lost my fucking mind. I was there, yet I was not there.”

“Why were you doing shock therapy?” Rory asked inquisitively.

“Because they believed everything dad told them when he dropped me off. All ‘assessments’ afterward were bullshit. They never believed a god damn thing I said. The only thing they did change from what he told them was that I’m in fact not schizophrenic. I can’t believe he told them that I was… wait, yes I can,” He laughed bitterly. “I had to fight like hell, and fighting like hell has made me what I am. I am the monster they created. Something in me just… snapped.”

“Are you a bad person now?” Rory asked suddenly.

“Depends on who you ask. Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things. But I kept hurting people. The other kids couldn’t do what I had to do. But we were just kids… we weren’t meant to be heroes. I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s like… I used to be a person. What am I now?”

“You’re just a kid, Nicky.” He winced.

“I stopped being a kid the day our parents sent me there to die,” His voice cracked. “I hate them. I hate their guts. I hate what they did to me.” He was crying hard suddenly, which was a shock compared to how he was as he described the horrors he had endured for three years. Tears pricked at her own eyes as she leant over the edge of her bed to pull him up into bed with her. She held him as he cried into her shoulder, and for the rest of the night after he fell asleep.

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breakingdownsu · 6 years

Text

Chorus Chapter Four

Note: This has been a busy week but I'm more or less back on track, thank goodness. I'm hoping to set up a blog soon to archive all of my writing in one place, along with any fanart I've received and anything else I've done over the last few years. When I started writing fanfics back in prehistoric times everyone had archives, webrings and mailing lists and I'm an old fashioned girl at heart sometimes. I'll link it once it's finished.

Double note: If you haven't already, I suggest you read A String of Pearls before continuing. Most of the OC characters I've written about there will be popping up here as well (and it includes the origins of Murder Pearl.)

…..

New to the list of things Steven had to be very worried about (along with Pearl's disappearance, the awful nightmares that were probably foreshadowing of something unpleasant and his dwindling supply of food) was that the unfortunately-named Murder Pearl would live up to that name at some point by turning on him.

As it was, she had found some sort of pole somewhere in the workshop and was methodically sharpening the end with blankly serene expression on her face. It was unbelievably creepy, and yet Ginger, who was sitting directly in the line of the sharpened pole should Murder Pearl decide to skewer someone with it, was calmly ignoring them both to fiddle with a holographic screen of data.

Complicating matters further was the third pearl in the workshop, the one Steven had healed with his magical spit. She was hiding under a table covered with a tarp, (and had been since she regained consciousness) the edges of her feet were the only part of her visible. He had been told in no uncertain terms by both Orthoclase and Ginger to leave her alone until her Jasper returned. He could hear her sniffling under there, and that was awkward on top of all the other awkwardness.

Distantly, Steven wondered if Garnet and Amethyst were worried. He had been gone for, he estimated, three days. They had left him alone during missions for longer periods of time, they had always been quite lackadaisical in this manner. He knew Greg would be worried by now, and probably Connie too. Sadie as well, and maybe the cool kids.

Maybe I should go back for a little while. Get more food, let everyone know I'm okay, tell them we have a plan...

Even as he thought about it he knew he couldn't. He was neck-deep in Homeworld's criminal underground, and if television had taught him one thing it was that criminals tended to disappear without a trace. If he left he probably wouldn't be able to find them again.

As he stewed, his stomach made its feelings known. Loudly.

Ginger swiveled in her chair.

“Are you unwell?” she asked, again with more curiosity than concern.

“Hah, no...I'm just kind of hungry...” he laughed nervously. Murder Pearl was also looking at him.

“Hungry?” Ginger asked, tilting her head and blinking owlishly.

“Yeah, uh...where I come from, we put things in our mouths....”

...he didn't miss both of the pearls flinching ever so slightly....

“...to give us energy and make us feel...happy, I guess. I brought food but I'm running kind of low now,” he finished.

Ginger hummed thoughtfully, and Murder Pearl laid down her murder stick for a moment.

“The higher caste gems ingest gallium and compound mix for recreational purposes,” Murder Pearl said. “I don't think it gives them energy...”

“No, it doesn't,” Ginger agreed. “But those are chemical...it sounds like the Steven requires...organic matter?”

“Just Steven is fine,” Steven piped in.

“I will think on this,” Ginger told him. “We cannot have you unwell at this stage in the plan.”

“Wow, okay, thanks!” Steven blurted out gratefully. It probably wouldn't be anything like a donut or a cheeseburger but at least it would be something...

Orthoclase burst into the workshop then in her usual loud fashion. At some point she had donned some sort of chain-link head decoration and painted triangles under her eyes, and the little kid in Steven for a moment reflected on how effortlessly cool she was. She was carrying what looked like a burlap sack and tossed out the contents on the operating table.

“Jasper came through for us,” she said with a careless but triumphant shrug. “Six pearls, all deregistered.”

Steven peered over at them, until Orthoclase beckoned him closer so he could examine them closely. One was cracked badly, one was covered in scratches but apart from that they were all in good shape. One was significantly smaller than the others.

“That's a seed pearl,” Orthoclase explained as Steven gingerly touched the miniature one.

“Seed pearl?”

“Yeah, it was the fashion for a while to make them smaller,” she continued. “Lasted about four orbits before they were discontinued. I thought they'd all been processed but I guess not.”

Homeworld really was a terribly strange place. Gems talked about making other gems in miniature, like some sort of weird hobby.

“Those two are damaged,” Steven said, changing the subject. “Can I heal them?”

“Go ahead,” Orthoclase said with a sweeping gesture. “Less work for me if you do.”

Licking his palm, he fixed the cracked pearl and then the scratched one. For good measure, he fixed the others too, just in case they had damage he couldn't see.

“Remind me to get you filling some tubes for me before you go back to Planet Whatsit,” Orthoclase said, sinking onto the couch and throwing one foot into Ginger's lap.

…..

A few hours and one fitful nap on the couch later, the pearls regenerated.

Steven ended up naming them (in his head) after the Disney Princesses because that was all he could think of. One of them (he thought it was the one that had been scratched to pieces) had a long elaborate braid that reached her ankles so once he had dubbed her Rapunzel the rest of them naturally followed.

The one that looked like she had actual gold threads running through her hair: Aurora.

The pale blue one in tattered indigo and the remains of a fancy hairstyle: Cinderella, obviously.

The silver one with the long white hair: Elsa. She was the one who had been badly cracked.

The pale green one with the red hair....he kept switching between Anna and Ariel. It was hard to know until she opened her mouth.

And the seed pearl, who stood no taller than Steven's waist....Thumbelina. (He knew it wasn't Disney but it might as well have been.)

“I assume you all know the plan,” Orthoclase announced, confusing Steven because not one pearl had said a word to anyone.

Still, they all nodded in perfect unison. Even Murder Pearl.

“Great. If you have any questions, ask Pearl. In fact, I have a question right now. What in Core's name are we supposed to do now?”

She punctuated her question by poking Ginger's shoulder with the tip of her foot.

“I have located a loom to centre our structure on,” Ginger replied, barely responding to Orthoclase's needling. “It is isolated, and large enough to shelter over fifty pearls.”

“Sounds great,” Orthoclase drawled. “What's wrong with it?”

“The owner will take some convincing...”

“I knew it...”

“But I believe we have something she wants.”

“Hm,” Orthoclase mused. “Okay, we can work with that. Get her on the line...”

“She won't respond. We have to go there ourselves. And she may not let us in.”

Orthoclase sighed, flopped across the couch. All the pearls kept their silence, but Steven noticed their hands and fingers moving gently. Maybe they were nervous. Steven certainly was.

“Well, we might as well try,” she said at last. “We'll go next cycle, suns are going down.”

With that, she was gone. There were crashing sounds in the back of the workshop where she was clearly setting up to work for the rest of the night. That left Steven alone with the pearls.

“So,” he began, addressing the one he dubbed Elsa. “I'm glad to see I was able to fix that crack in your gem...are you feeling better?”

“Yes, quite,” she said faintly. “Thank you.”

“What happened? Is it okay for me to ask, I don't mean to be rude...”

“That's okay,” she said in that same oddly serene way they all seemed to have of talking. “I was owned by several Jaspers, they did not treat me gently.”

That sick squirmy feeling was getting to be something Steven was used to. There were implications rife in that little sentence but he couldn't dwell on it, for the sake of his own sanity.

I need to find Pearl and get the hell out of here.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled lamely.

“Not your doing,” Elsa replied in a way that was almost sweet.

“Did you fix my scratches too?” Rapunzel asked, so quietly he could barely hear her.

“Yes, I did,” Steven replied. “Is that okay with you?”

“Quite,” she said. “But my owner may be confused when I am returned. If I am returned.”

If. Why if?

“Why's that?” Steven asked, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself.

“She made most of the scratches.”

Steven looked away, struggling to find words. It was only then that he noticed that Thumbelina had at some point climbed down from her spot on the operating table and was kneeling at the gap between the floor and the tarp that covered the Jasper's pearl. She was silent but her fingers were moving. The sniffling that had been a constant since the pearl woke up had stopped.

…..

When Homeworld's suns rose again, they set out for...wherever they were going next. Steven ate the last of his rations, hoping Ginger would come up with something for him to do foodwise soon. They passed a checkpoint, and as usual Ginger was checked with that horrible machine.

“Why can't they just ask her to open her mouth?” Steven whispered to Orthoclase as they watched.

“Pearls won't open their mouths, even under orders,” Orthoclase whispered back.

Steven blinked. He hadn't really expected an answer, just assumed the officials did it to be mean.

“Why?” he asked, baffled.

“No-one really knows,” Orthoclase responded. “It's just some sort of pearl-wide trait, they can't do it even if they want to. It means you have to crack their jaws for checks and certain repairs, and they'd probably choose to avoid that if they could...”

With every passing moment, life just seemed to get bleaker and bleaker for pearls. Where would it end?

Ginger was rubbing her jaw when she was returned.

“I think that Topaz has a grudge against me,” Orthoclase said as they walked away. “And she takes it out on you. Sorry about that.”

“That's okay,” Ginger replied. She sounded tired.

They walked for a long time. The public transport system only brought them so far, and it was clear whoever they were going to see was well-off. The residences they passed got bigger and bigger the further they went, until they arrived at a truly enormous estate on the outer edge of the city.

Orthoclase whistled as she rang the doorbell.

“This is really something,” she hissed. “I feel like I'm going to be tossed in isopod just for being here...”

The door creaked open, and standing in front of them was yet another pearl.

“My owner is not taking visitors today.”

“Yeah, we figured that,” Orthoclase drawled. “But we have an urgent matter to discuss with her so we aren't going to let her blow us off.”

“Just close the blasted door, Pearl!” a voice shouted from inside the estate.

“I suggest you give her different orders unless you want me to yank her right here and now,” Orthoclase called back.

There was a moment of silence, during which Steven didn't know where to look. He hadn't expected Orthoclase to make outright threats...

...and then a sharp tapping noise heralded the arrival of another gem, who gently pushed the pearl out of the way. Steven looked up...

Lapis?

...no, it's not.

This gem looked much older, far more severe than Lapis even at her angriest. It put Steven in mind of the dowager queen of some exiled nation, or something. She was dressed in what looked like an evening gown, long and straight, and her hair was pinned back immaculately in a perfectly formed bun.

The pearl looked almost like a daughter or a younger sister of this dowager. She was dressed in a shorter dress with a fuller skirt, her hair simply tied back with a green ribbon.

Neither of them looked like the kind of gem Orthoclase would ever associate with.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the Amethyst squad,” the Lapis growled, squaring up to this gem who could easily break her in half.

“Well, Pearl? Have you got a good reason for her?” Orthoclase asked Ginger.

“Yes.”

The Lapis turned to Ginger, confusion masking her annoyance.

“We have need of your pearl's skills,” Ginger began.

Incredibly, the Lapis' face softened. She looked from Ginger to her own pearl and back.

“In return, we can offer you music that has never been heard by any gem before,” Ginger finished.

Orthoclase shot a look down at Steven, a what-the-hell-kind-of-plan-is-this sort of look.

But the Lapis sighed, straightened and opened her door fully.

“You'd best come inside then,” she said. “Don't touch anything.”

#steven universe #steven universe fanfiction #breaking down universe #a string of pearls canon #dehumanization #orthoclase and pearl

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splashrollstumble · 5 years

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Cycle Touring: A Beginners Guide

Have you ever been sitting at your terribly boring office job looking at a picture like the one below and wandered: “Hmmm, that looks nice, I wish I could do that.”

Well, guess what? You can. In fact, it’s a hell of a lot easier than you think. I should know, because I do it, and I’m by no means a professional at anything. (I’m still proud of myself when I make a cup of tea successfully.) So, after a few requests (and since my bike is currently being repaired), I decided to use the time to write a blog about cycle touring for beginners.

What are you afraid of?

Funnily enough, the thing that scares most people is the fitness, thinking they won’t be able to cycle the long distances every day. In reality, this is the LEAST of your worries. Cycle touring is not the Tour de France, it doesn’t require any level of fitness at all. Seriously, it’s about as tiring as watching a particularly tense episode of Peaky Blinders. I mean, think about – you’re sitting down and you can move at 10km/h if you want – it’s chilled, homie.

So what should I be afraid of?

For me, the hardest bits are finding somewhere decent to camp and fixing mechanical problems. Depending on the country you’re in, camping can be VERY HARD (India) or VERY EASY (Sweden). Depending on your mechanic skills, bike issues can be VERY HARD or NOT QUITE AS HARD. (My mechanic skills are non-existent, which is why my bike is currently in the shop). I cycled across Africa with hardly any real bike repair skills and I somehow survived, so don’t worry – help is usually not far away.

After injuring my knee, a Warmshower host accommodated me for two days (Sweden, May 2019)

So let’s get down to details

In this blog, I’ll go into detail about all aspects of bike touring for those of you that feel you need to get ALL the info about something before doing it. However, the honest truth is – there is only ONE thing you really need to start bike touring: a bike.

My first bicycle tour I did with a friend at 19 years old from Paris to Cannes on a second-hand $30 mountain bike. The first day we stopped to rest almost every kilometer and only made it 10 kilometers in total. By day six we were doing 50kms a day easily.

It took about a month and cost about €100 in total, most of which was on food. We camped for free almost every night and cooked most of our meals on a cheap gas stove. (Nowadays, free camping in most of Western Europe is illegal and not as easily done, but in the countryside, many farmers will happily let you camp in their field if you ask nicely.)

If you’re lucky you’ll be offered a bed in a spare room (Zambia – Feb 2019)

The Bike

Okay, so the main thing you want with a touring bike is something strong. I travel very light but still carry about 10kg, which means I need more than just the standard cheap alloy frame and wheels that come with a basic road bike. A good starter touring bike is either a cheap touring bike, a basic mountain bike (no rear suspension) or a commuter/hybrid bicycle with gears. Fixie or single-speed bikes are generally not good for touring as you’ll struggle to go uphill with weight. Similarly, carbon bicycles usually aren’t designed to carry weight and anyway, are too expensive.

You DO NOT need a professional touring bike, especially not if you’re just starting out. If you decide after one week that it’s not for you then you’re just stuck with a €2000 bicycle that is now worth half that on resale value (if you do do this, however, I’ll buy that half-price bike off you!) Of course, if you’ve got the disposable cash then, by all means, buy a touring bike – even if you don’t end up touring a lot, it’s still a good bike for going around town.

The bicycle I’ve been touring on for the past two years cost only €350 from Decathlon (a simple BTwin Triban 100). It’s a basic road bike but with a stronger frame for carrying luggage. I had to upgrade a few bits and pieces but after 2 years, 10 thousand kilometers and 15 countries it’s still essentially the original bicycle. Now that I know I love cycle touring and want to keep doing it, I’m at the stage where I can start looking into buying a real touring bike.

Kerala, India (February 2018)

To begin with, it’s best to use whatever bicycle you currently own and just add racks or figure out a way to attach luggage to it. If you do decide to buy a new bike I wouldn’t go lower than €300 or you risk getting something that will just break soon with a lot of weight on it. (Second-hand mountain bike, on the other hand, make great cheap touring bikes but are usually a bit heavy and not as easy to cycle on-road)

Some examples of good beginner touring bikes:

Dawes Galaxy (or Ridgeback World Tour)

Dawes has been making bicycles since before the war and is still making some of the best and most affordable touring bikes. The Dawes Galaxy is a classic and is fairly cheap for touring standards, at only about €600. The Ridgeback World Tour is a similar price.

Jamis Aurora (or Allegro Sport)

Jamis does a cheap touring bike, the Aurora, at only about €600. Something similar to this is the Allegro Sport which is a good lightweight entry-level road bike that has rear eyelets for attaching a rack. With bikes like these, they don’t come built for touring so you need to add things like a rack. However, they are usually cheaper at about €400.

Trek Dual Sport (or Marlin 5) These are good crossover bikes that aren’t mountain bikes but have thicker tires that work well on-road or offroad and can carry heavier weight. They are also easy to convert into touring bikes by adding a rear luggage rack.

Bike ADD-ONS:

With whatever bike you buy, you’ll need these additions at the very minimum:

Schwalbe Marathon tires (trust me)

Extra water bottle holder

A small pump, puncture repair kit, and spare tubes

Lights (even if you don’t plan on cycling at night, get some lights!)

Camping

Camping is often the most enjoyable and most annoying part of bike touring. Naturally, you need to be the kind of outdoors-person who enjoys camping to start with (but presumably you wouldn’t be reading this if you weren’t). From finding a campsite, dealing with the weather, and cooking successfully – it all depends on how prepared you are.

The tent

Again, as with the bike, you don’t need any special over-priced equipment. Tents range from €20 to €2000, usually depending on how light and how weather-resistant they are. The only tent I’ve ever used cost €30 from Decathlon. It’s basically an entry-level tent and at 1.5kgs it’s not the lightest but it’s not exactly heavy either and it’s never once leaked or blown away in the wind. I can’t imagine why I’d ever need anything else BUT I’m yet to camp on Mount Everest – or in any extreme conditions – so I don’t know.

Naturally, you’ll also need some kind of roll map or inflatable mattress and a sleeping bag. These are also things you can get for cheap at any camping or outdoors store. Always try to get the smallest/lightest you can afford. If you’re going somewhere that is below 10 degrees at night make sure to get a winter sleeping bag – trust me! The summer ones are NOT warm enough.

Cooking equipment

You don’t necessarily need cooking equipment and if it’s your first trip you might choose to skip this and just make sandwiches or similar. On my first trip to India, I didn’t ever cook because the street food is so cheap and also camping is basically illegal where I was in the south. (Luckily, hotels are $5 a night so I didn’t need to.)

If you do want to cook, the basics you need are a small gas stove attachment, gas canisters that fit it, a pot, a knife, and a spoon or fork. Additionally, you can take a frying pan but I never have. Mostly, I just eat pasta which can all be made in one pot together. (A pot can also be used to make oats in the morning if you wanna eat cheap). The simpler, the better. (However, I have seen pro cycle-tourists who carry entire kitchens with them and cook 5-star meals!)

Bike Tools

You’ll need to learn how to fix a puncture or change a tube at the VERY least. The rest you can learn as you go. The minimum tools you should carry (usually in a seat bag) are tire levers, puncture kit, and spare tubes. You should also have a small bike tool that has a set of Allen keys and screwdrivers (for tightening bolts, changing seat height, etc). These cost about €5 at any bike shop.

There are a bunch of other tools that are useful but you don’t need to worry about these at the start.

So, how do I start?

Okay, so you’ve got your bicycle, a tent, sleeping gear, tools and maybe a little stove and pot. You can stuff everything in a bag and strap it on the back with bungee cords or buy additional pannier bags that clip on your rack. Either way works fine and depends on your budget. Pannier bags do have advantages like being water-proof and distributing weight well, but I didn’t use any for my first five or six trips. As long as all your stuff stays on the bike, you’re good to go! (Wrap it in plastic if you expect rain.)

You might also want to buy a handlebar bag or frame bag where you can keep snacks, a phone charger, map, etc. (But that’s all stuff you’ll get more involved with once you start touring, I didn’t have one on my first trip)

Then, plan your trip.

For the first one, I’d suggest going for a short weekend roll about in whatever nature surrounds your hometown. This way you get to test the bicycle and camping gear without going too far from home. Wherever you are in the world there should at least be a forest, beach or field to camp in or at the very least, a cheap local campsite. Campsites obviously have the advantage or electricity, running water and toilets and might be a good starter option if you are new to camping.

If you choose to wild camp, make sure you don’t camp on someone’s property or at least ask permission first if you do. Also, obviously don’t leave a mess whether its someone’s property or not!

A public shelter (Sweden, May 2019)

Countries Countrywise, I found Sweden to be a great place to start bicycle touring because it has excellent roads, good cycle lanes in many places, and you camp wherever you want legally and for free! (not on private property obviously).

In most of Eastern Europe, you can also pretty much camp wherever without trouble but Sweden is super-safe and you are guaranteed to get no hassles. In Germany and much of Western Europe, so-called “wild” camping is illegal and if you don’t hide very well, you will get told to move or possible even fined. Germany is the most strict about this.

Sweden

I haven’t cycle-toured the U.S. or South America but I’ve heard it’s quite good for wild camping as it has an abundance of nature. Most of Southeast Asia is good for wild camping and also has very cheap accommodation everywhere. (Places like central Asia, the Middle East, and Africa are best reserved for those who are experienced cycle tourists.)

Budget

Your daily budget will vary somewhat depending on where you are and how ‘wild’ you are prepared to be. If you wild camp every night and only cook cheap supermarket food you can get by on a few euro a day. Using a shared accommodation app like Warmshowers can also keep down costs and is a great way to meet other cycle tourists!

If you need to pay for accommodation for whatever reason, it’s going to be around €5 – €15 per day in cheap countries and €30-€40 in more expensive ones (like the US and Western Europe). It’s easy to check what accommodation is available and costs beforehand on apps like Agoda or Booking(.)com. As a beginner, it’s nice to know what’s around in case of rain – or if you just need a shower!

Conclusion The main thing is – KEEP IT SIMPLE. Cycle touring is not difficult – honestly. Just pack some stuff, get on your bike, and go. Your first puncture, your first rainstorm, your first busy road will all be tough, but it only gets easier. The longer you do it, the less the problems become a struggle and the more enjoyable everything is. Soon you’ll be a star mechanic, a fit cyclist, and an excellent stealth-camper… and then you’ll quit your lame desk job and wonder why you didn’t choose this lifestyle long ago!

Botswana, January 2019

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cromulentbookreview · 5 years

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Externally Screaming

Every now and again I come across a book I like so much I can't really express how I feel about it with words, just unintelligible fangirl squealing.

Aurora Rising is one of those books.

Seriously, the whole time with this book I was just

Sometimes, I will start reading a book and find I literally cannot stop. Other times I will force myself not to - to pace myself, rather than binge-read because I know that as soon as I’m done reading it, it’ll be well over a year until the next book. I am in general a slow reader, and for the most part it’s unintentional - I’m easily distracted, my attention span is shot, I work full time, have other shit to do, etc. - so when I tell myself “no, only a few chapters today, otherwise it’ll all be gone and then you’ll have nothing. NOTHING!” It’s kind of a big deal.

(Sorry, can’t not use a Ron Burgundy gif there).

I should preface my fangirling by mentioning that I am a massive fan of Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff’s last trilogy, The Illuminae Files, which if you haven’t read it, stop everything, go read it, I will wait right here.

Oh my God those books are so good, right? I mean, nothing makes my librarian brain happier than stories that are told entirely through documents. Aurora Rising is a more traditional narrative told from multiple POVs, but we do get the occasional “fun fact” in-between chapters.

Behold! The jacket copy:

The year is 2380, and the graduating cadets of Aurora Academy are being assigned their first missions. Star pupil Tyler Jones is ready to recruit the squad of his dreams, but his own boneheaded heroism sees him stuck with the dregs nobody else in the Academy would touch…

A cocky diplomat with a black belt in sarcasm

A sociopath scientist with a fondness for shooting her bunkmates

A smart-ass techwiz with the galaxy’s biggest chip on his shoulder

An alien warrior with anger management issues

A tomboy pilot who’s totally not into him, in case you were wondering

And Ty’s squad isn’t even his biggest problem—that’d be Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley, the girl he’s just rescued from interdimensional space. Trapped in cryo-sleep for two centuries, Auri is a girl out of time and out of her depth. But she could be the catalyst that starts a war millions of years in the making, and Tyler’s squad of losers, discipline-cases and misfits might just be the last hope for the entire galaxy. They're not the heroes we deserve. They're just the ones we could find. Nobody panic.

If you think “that sounds awesome” you’d be right. It is awesome. Poor Tyler Jones - he is indeed a golden boy of the Aurora Academy, but the night before the draft - the event where leader-types like him get to pick who will be in their squad with the Aurora Legion - Tyler, unable to sleep, decides to log some time in the Fold. Now, the Fold is, of course, the folds in space-time that allow for super-fun-and-quick space travel. So... a wormhole. Anyway, whilst cruising around the Fold, Tyler picks up a distress signal from a ship that famously disappeared two hundred years prior. On the ship he discovers a bunch of people dead in their cryopods. Only one is still alive: a girl with a white stripe in her hair. Tyler barely manages to rescue the girl and get back to his ship before a Foldstorm hits.

One problem, though: while he was being Heroic McHeroface, Tyler missed the draft. He, the Academy’s #1 Golden boy didn’t get to pick the cream of the crop. Nope, he’s stuck with the population of the Island of Misfit Toys.

His twin sister Scarlett sticks with him, though. So does his childhood best friend and expert pilot, Cat. The rest of the crew...well... There’s Zila, who is brilliant but not good with people.

She’s now the squad’s Brain - the Science Division type who also serves as the ship’s doctor. Yikes.

There’s Finian, a snarktastic tech genius Betraskan (a humanoid alien spices with super pale skin) who relies on an exosuit in order to move around. He’s the squad’s Gearhead.

And there’s Kal, a Syldrathi - another humanoid alien, only these look like elves from Lord of the Rings. Lots of Legolas references thrown around. Kal comes from a specific warrior cabal and has a reputation for getting into fights for funsies. He’s the Tank - the squad muscle / enforcer / bodyguard-type person.

And of course, at first sight they all can’t stand each other. But they’re stuck together as Squad 312, so essentially, they have no choice. Hurray?

And if you’re wondering “but what about the girl with the white stripe in her hair?” - don’t worry, I’m getting there. Her name is Aurora Jae-Lin O’Malley, aka Auri. 200 years ago, she was living on a dying Earth, preparing to make the journey into space to the colony-planet of Octavia. She goes into cryosleep and promptly wakes up two hundred years too late, with the Aurora Academy, and no one has ever heard of Octavia. Plus, there’s something wrong with Auri - two hundred years in the Fold will mess with your brain a bit, but it doesn’t explain why she’s got one white eye, why she can move objects with her mind, and why she starts seeing visions of the future. At first, it looks like the Aurora Academy is going to send Auri back to Earth, but instead she ends up stowing away...with Squad 312, our favorite ragtag bunch of misfits.

Only it very quickly becomes evident that the powers at be want Auri, and they’re willing to kill anyone she comes into contact with. So Auri and Squad 312 end up on the run, and they’re all forced to work together in order to solve the mystery behind Auri’s strange powers. It all seems to have something to do with Octavia: why did the colony get wiped off the map? What happened to the people there? What happened to Auri in the Fold?

Aurora Rising is the first in a planned trilogy, so, of course, we don’t get all the answers right away. There are enough answers to keep us from getting too pissed off, but enough unanswered questions to keep us on our toes waiting for the next book. And holy crap, I cannot wait for the next book. Aurora Rising starts out exciting and just continues to be exciting until the very last page (OK, maybe not the literal last page, those tend to be blank or just have information about the publisher on them, but you get my point). My one big complaint is that the one character I really wanted to get to know - Zila - gets the least amount of time in the limelight. Chapters narrated by her are mostly only a few sentences long - I know this is supposed to illustrate her blunt manner, but I was really looking forward to learning everything about what made her so peculiar. She does get a longer chapter later in the book, but we don’t learn all her secrets. And, I mean, come on, I wanted to know more about Zila, damn it! The rest of the characters are cool, though Tyler is a bit too much the bland leader-type and I had a hard time believing that Scarlett could be 18 and have over fifty ex-boyfriends (maybe they were just hookups and she just refers to them as boyfriends?). Finian’s chapters are fantastic because he is the group’s deadpan snarker - whenever things get intense, Fin’s ready to throw in some much-needed comic relief. Auri’s POV is by far the most compelling, though that may just be my own personal bias talking, because the Fish Out of Temporal Water is one of my favorite tropes ever...but it’s from Auri’s POV that we get all the Legolas references directed at Kal, and it’s just delightful.

gard...gard...gard...gard...

In essence: I needed books 2 and 3 of the Aurora Cycle sometime yesterday, please. I need full chapters dedicated entirely to Zila and her history - she’s the one member of Squad 312 we know the least about by the end of Aurora Rising, and I want to know more! Maybe because she strikes me as a fellow girl on the spectrum and I desperately want to see more accurate depictions of autism in girls, something that doesn’t just depict us as straight-up psychopaths. We’re not, we’re really not. Our brains just work differently, OK? Stop judging Zila you guys, gah!

Anyway. I fricking loved this book, from beginning to end. Am I biased because I loved The Illuminae Files and think Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff are both fantastic writers? Yeah, probably. But, once again, I must direct you to the title of this stupid little tumblr blog. I promise cromulent reviews, not good or unbiased ones. Still - if any of what I described above sounds appealing to you, then you’re going to want to read Aurora Rising. And even if you’re still on the fence, read it anyway because some rando on a dying social media platform told you to.

RECOMMENDED FOR: fans of YA sci-fi, fans of fiction featuring a ragtag bunch of misfits, anyone looking for an exciting YA cross between Guardians of the Galaxy and The Expanse.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone not a fan of YA, sci-fi, misfits, fun, excitement, joy...

RELEASE DATE: May 7, 2019 (Illuminae fans: check out Jay Kristoff’s website for details on how to get a free printed Illuminae novella with a pre-order of Aurora Rising!)

RATING: 5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED FANGIRL RATING: 5,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000/5.

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR SEQUELS: Olympus Mons

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY RATING:

MY FACE WHEN I REALIZED I’LL HAVE TO WAIT A GOOD LONG WHILE FOR THE NEXT BOOK:

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grimdarkandhandsome · 7 years

Text

SHAWN

I was so embarrassed of my laser rifle that first day. I kept switching between clipping it to my belt and slinging it over my shoulder, trying to find a place for it that had minimal impact on my silhouette. Why oh why didn't I just buy the magnetized holster?

'Everybody inside, children,' said Mentor Antonia as the dropship's big door swung open. 'Quick like bunnies! The Circle army is mustering as we speak.'

We filed into the dropship, yawning. Quixota was in front of me, heavy-footed in rocket boots.

'We're not children,' said Quixota. 'Even Eric has stopped growing by now.'

Mentor Antonia depolarized her faceplate so Quixota could see how unimpressed she was.

'If you're not children, then stop playing around and win some battles.' She leapt nimbly into the dropship. 'Takeoff in sixty secs.'

We squeezed in. I remembered my old mentor Lady Dohi, back on Tau Ceti II. She actually called us children too, but she said it in a nice way, I guess. Here in War Training, self-improvement had evolved into hawk-eyed competition. I sat down and strapped in, rifle nose-down between my knees. I was between Quixota and the cyborg, Eric. I didn't know either of them well at all. The ship was cramped with all the armored students, and as we settled in we kept scraping and scratching the already-scuffed paint on the plastic seats. Everything was painted a really depressingly bright green. I pulled my helmet down over my eyes so I didn't have to look at anybody. The CQC girls were chatting irritably about missing winter on their home planet. Our squad was almost all girls, as was typical for our generation. With a muffled roar we rose clumsily into the air, and I watched the jump-jets flicker outside the rear porthole as we flew away.

We were halfway thru our flight when our wristwatches glowed green, illuminating the undersides of everyone's chins and noses. We were entering the free combat zone. The CQC girls whooped and chanted.

'Ho! Ho! Ho! HO!'

The girl across from me looked my way and rolled her eyes.

'Dionysians,' she remarked, as if this were normal or even a word.

I intended to ask what she meant, but somehow just gave an awkward gesture of irritation and confusion.

She elaborated anyway: 'The opposite of Apollonians.'

She was a Light, or maybe Analyst class, tall with neat black hair. She wore a warp suit that made her look like a praying mantis librarian.

'I'm Lysa,' she said.

'I'm Shawn,' I said miserably. 'Nice to meet you.'

'Hey!' announced someone towards the front with a fusion spear. 'You guys! We are gonna blast those Circle dicks in half!'

Her companions cheered. I grimaced.

'The pleasure is all mine,' said Lysa, eyes sparkling. 'I see you've brought a laser rifle.'

I couldn't tell if this girl was making fun of me or not. 'It has really good hip-fire accuracy,' I mumbled.

'Do me a favor, okay? Hang on to this.'

She handed me a silver sphere about the size of an eyeball. It had a little triangle etched into it.

'Uh, um, okay,' I said, and dropped it into my satchel with all my other gear.

'Have you ever been in a ground war before?' she said.

'No.' I was painfully aware that despite being nine orbits old, I looked more like seven.

'Neither have I,' said Lysa. 'But I've played a divine buttload of simulations.'

* * *

Forward Base Rho was too new to have a real name. It had only been captured yesterday, and might well be lost again soon if the enemy mecha column came this way. It consisted of a circular wall, three towers with bomb launchers, two barracks (for seniors and juniors), a bathroom, a bunker, and two picnic tables. A couple battlefield cars were parked outside, caked in red dust.

We landed and piled out, blinking in the sun. We had alighted on a vast shallow slope under a brilliant blue sky. Out here in the wastes, the earth was a dry, windblown red, hard like asphalt. Patches of blue-green grass waved like seaweed. The land was very flat, distinguished by craters, ridges, and rocky hills. Downhill, at the limit of my vision, I saw a blue river winding among green fields. It was hot out, but the breeze was cool.

The local commander unlatched the gate and waved us inside. ('Oi! Munchkins!') He was an older man from the Mecha Corps, with a robotic arm and a familial demeanor. He looked kindof like a broad-shouldered Confucius. He led us to the battlements, for the debriefing.

'Hello and welcome, soldiers. I'm Rozome, and, yes, I named Base Rho after myself. The campaign's going pretty good down here, but it all hinges on whether we can deal with the enemy armor in the west.'

He pointed towards the plains downhill, where a large plume of dust hung in the distance.

'Base rules are "Don't cause trouble" and that's it. I'm in charge of this here base, but your Mentor is in charge of you.'

Mentor Antonia bounced her eyebrows.

'You guys are in luck,' continued Rozome, tucking his beard into his jacket. 'The enemy doesnt care about this spot at all. You can totally goof off. Before you arrived it was just me and the journalist defending this place.'

From one of the gun-towers a skinny young man gave us a half-interested wave.

We all gave each other a look. All of us were here for action and career development. Bunking in the desert with no combat and a dozen meatheads? That was just a bad summer camp. I sighed.

'Anyway, pretty straightforward. Go ahead and settle in. I'll shout if we're attacked tonight, but 99% odds it's going to be quiet.'

Mentor Antonia herded us back down to ground level. 'Mission tomorrow at 0900. Recon. No delays.'

We shuffled into the junior barracks.

* * *

After dinner, the CQC kids crowded onto four bunks for a tedious and noisy game of Never Have I Ever. I was just tossing my satchel onto the top bunk in the far corner when a flash of crimson lightning exploded in my face.

'What the shit?!' I probably said, falling onto my butt.

In the previously-empty top bunk sat Lysa, grinning.

'Hi!'

'What did you ... do?!' I said, picking myself up again.

'I'm testing the teleport homer I gave you.' She tossed my satchel back down to me. 'I'll take top bunk, okay? We can be friends, it'll be fun.'

'Um. Alright.'

I put my bag on the lower pillow instead. I mean, at least I could get out the door faster if we were attacked.

'So,' said Lysa, peeling off her warp suit. 'What's your plan for tomorrow?'

'Well,' I said, 'I don't think we'll do any real fighting, but I'll probably just give cover and supporting fire if we do.' I started to take off my armor. 'And you?'

She pulled an immense Earth Sucks tshirt over her head. 'Watch and learn!'

* * *

In the morning after breakfast we aggregated by the gate and, after some headcounting, squeezed into the cars. They were big combat models, like particularly bouncy trucks. Four people in armor could fit in the back, with a smaller passenger seat next to the driver. Lysa sat up there, next to Mentor Antonia in the front car. I was in the second car, in the back.

To noone's surprise, the mission itself was completely uneventful. It wasn't horrible, actually, because the cars were open-topped in the back. I'd forgotten how pretty terrestrial planets could be. We patrolled a wide perimeter around Base Rho, then split up and went exploring. There were some very nice striped arches in the rock, and actually a few artificial statues. I wondered whether would we have time to try our hands at carving something like that. It was a nice meditation.

We got back in the mid-afternoon. It was viciously hot and a layer of boredom was accumulating on our shoulders. Most of the others procured warm beer and retreated to the barracks, so Lysa took advantage of the quiet to teach me chess. Apparently they gave classes on it on her planet (Aurora I). She seemed a little heat-wilted until I killed both her chancellors with one elephant. Then she perked up and became much more competitive. Soon she had two bishops and her queen pointing at my defenseless king, and I had to tip him over. We sat in the shade of the well and she read while I dozed.

* * *

Wednesday was just as boring as Tuesday, altho Lysa brightened it a little by texting me mocking nicknames for our squadmates. (For example, we named the short girl with the flamethrower Blowhard.) We drove as far as Base Beta on the edge of the sector, but didn't see so much as a bullet hole.

Thursday the other girls got fed up and confronted Mentor Antonia. The bravest of them (Blowhard, in fact) knocked on the senior barracks, while her friends hooted and cheered her on. Our Mentor opened the door immediately.

'Yes?' She was in simple unarmored fatigues, but she somehow wore them with an air of austere competence.

'Yo, we, um ... we would like to submit a command request, sir.'

She merely raised an eyebrow.

'Can we, uh, can we engage some of the enemy, sir?'

Mentor Antonia smiled and looked them over.

'Okay.'

'Yo, you're serious??'

'Yes. Everyone in the cars in twenty.'

There was much whooping. Even I whooped, quietly. Lysa just grinned.

* * *

The sky was a fiery orange by the time we rolled out. The sky was immense on this planet. The CQCs were really happy, punching shoulders and shooting lasers into the ground. Actually, I couldn't blame them.

We rumbled downhill at a very bumpy pace. We were borrowing one of the bomb launchers from the base towers, which Blowhard was crewing beside me.

'Our target,' said Mentor Antonia over the radio, 'is Base Lima, which is currently under Circle control. We're going to do a driveby first, once around. We are going to fall back out of range if they answer with equivalent resistance. If they do not present enough resistance my car - and my car only - will storm the base. Car Two will support or fall back at Quixota’s discretion, while remaining mobile. Over.'

I pumped my fist surreptitiously. I was in the front car! I was in the van, like furious Achilles. I power-cycled my rifle and double-checked the battery.

We killed the headlights when we were ten minutes away. There was a lot of shhing in the back seats. I inventoried: rifle, four batteries, fully loaded cylinder pistol, an ion grenade and a concussion grenade. Time for my first day on the job.

Base Lima was supposedly in the center of a big, weathered crater downhill of us. I craned my neck but the crater's edge obscured everything below the base's comms antenna, gleaming in the sun. The enemy had fixed a Circle flag to it. It shuddered in the steady wind, and I thrilled.

When we crested the ridge, I saw why we hadn't run into any enemies this whole time. We went over it with one of those little jumps that feels like going into space for just a second, and we skidded a little on the red gravel. We descended into a broad basin of red sand, in the center of which was ...

'Is that ... a golf course?!' I said, squinting in the sun.

'I think it's like a big ass little forest, man,' postulated Blowhard beside me.

We drove cautiously towards the anomalous patch of green below us. It was at least five minutes away, but it still looked pretty large in area, maybe the size of a small stadium. It had trees, and very bright grass, and a sparkling river. The base's towers gleamed in the middle of the woods. It all looked really great to us in our dusty combat gear.

'An oasis!' I heard Lysa shout over the radio.

'Boss, yo, can we go swimming?' said Blowhard.

'No, soldier,' said our Mentor.

'Aww, c'mon sir, why not?'

'Because there is resistance.'

And then ten camouflaged figures, just a stone’s throw away, stood up and opened fire.

* * *

'The winner is the artist with the more elegant performance.'

This was my best teacher's motto. Ms Dohi, the Vertical War veteran. She was as tall as my shoulder, and her black hair was half as long as her. Definitely one of those competitive Vega women. And it was easy to see the results. In her office hung her doctorate in Campbellian film, and on her chest hung her Iron Heart.

'The opening of violence, the introduction of projectile exchange, this is the most primal possible way to begin a narrative. The eyes are widened, the heart is engaged, the knees bend as the audience enters the story.'

I did all her assigned reading. Her Narrative Infantry Ops class was my favorite. It really made me see combat from a new angle.

'...In this framework, then, to engage the foe with the classical honor, with urgency, is to accelerate the close of the ritual. To stand ground in Bushidic valor is to combat not just the foe, but combat itself. A more honest, Coverful attitude to violence is the embracing of covert actions. The soul of taking cover is iterative, a repeating dialectic of attack and retreat. Coverful warfighting is mutual, constructive, and compassionate. Hiding from the foe, engaging in mutual search, killing from behind, these are relationships of respect for the foe's mind, celebration of the foe's agency.'

Accordingly, when the Circle ambush started shooting holes in the sides of the car, I took five quick breaths and jumped out onto the sand. When I stopped rolling, the cars were roaring away uphill, but at least the dust of their wakes obscured me. Coverful warfighting is about pushing the envelope. Changing the gamestate.

Lying low on my stomach, I unhooked my concussion grenade and got ready to toss it at my enemies' feet. I only needed to stay unnoticed until it detonated, then I would have the advantage.

Unfortunately, in the next instant my concentration was interrupted by a giant

- BOOM -

as something unnecessarily high-powered punched a hole in my chest. Everything went numb and I started to fade. The last thing I saw was a Circle girl with big goggles pumping her fist as my own grenade went off in my hand.

* * *

T R Y T W O.

I woke up in a small bed with thick sheets. I was back in Forward Base Rho. Lysa was there, wearing a dress and writing in a black notebook.

She smiled. 'Finally, you're awake!'

#sunlight #barsoom #mars #scifi #short story #fanfiction #fps #john campbell

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thestylerandomguy · 4 years

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I remember entering the year of 2019 on a blank space, still unsure how I will start over or when can I completely recover. At the back of my mind I know I’d be able to secure a job soon, reignite myself in helping people that is creatively and artistically, and be able to move forward. But the process of it and the word “how” seems questionable and doubtful, the “what if’s” are creeping, and the “repeating the same mistakes” thoughts are turning into nightmares.

Time may be my constant adversary ever since, but fate has become my new bff. Understanding fate on the other hand, oh well, I’m still getting there. Its like this, I’m seeing a ball coming at me, I know its gonna hit me real soon, whether I saw it still from afar or already a few steps away from me, I can guess if it will hit me hard or softly, or maybe I can dodge it, or hit it or better yet, catch it with my both hands and own it. Understanding why in the first place it is coming at me or maybe at someone else, makes it more, should I say, interesting. I’d like to keep it positive and not use the word complicated.

Still, I cannot remain stuck and bored. I know I’ll make it through, the future is both exciting and daunting. My mantra and tattoo that says “Remember Who You Are” has never been empowering, right at that very moment.

Friends, family and faith remains, which I’m always thankful for. There is still good on this world that I deserve even though I would not ask for it. In an instant the moments went back to same degree of craziness just like before, the year went on as busy as it could be, my anxiety checked and my sanity has well improved.

New work means new colleagues, new team, new business partners, new strategies. A fresh start means a whole new way of making things right, being a better version. Being with PayPal helped me embrace that it is not just Diversity and Inclusion, it is also having the sense of Belongingness — I know I’m part of it and I know I’m valued, I don’t have to question my purpose this time, which I’m very thankful. My new team is a breath of fresh air, dedicated and talented individuals who are all in for fun and relationships, so as the leadership team that I’m with which I feel blessed that we connect and work together as One Team.

Another great thing to happen was the business trip to Dublin, Ireland, it was such a wonderful act of our business partners to invest on us new leaders and establish better connections and collaborations. We’ve met with 15+ PayPal leaders from Dublin and Dundalk and they’ve provided learnings that were tremendously helpful and of course the side trips were a bonus!

Co-leading an Engagement Team, which was then called CIP MNL Fun@Work Team, and working with people while injecting fun and engagement has always been a strength and something close to my heart. It felt like more of a fun responsibility than a regular task. I also got the chance to propose and spearhead the Performing Arts Club which is called The Elites, it will highlight the employee’s talents on performing and I’m actually excited to work with a new set of passionate individuals.

Recognizing the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia(IDAHOT) last May 17 with our Ride with Pride presentation and winning the Express Yourself Catwalk was a highlight. I saw it as an opportunity to state a fact that no matter how groundbreaking it was the past two decades for the LGBTQ+ community, a lot of people still live in fear and hate and still a lot of people suffer from it.

One more thing, going back to one of my first love and that is performing through dance was such a reliever and I feel so blessed to be up on the stage once again and dance and become a different person altogether. It felt good to share the stage with other talents whom also worked hard to perform. Amazing shots by Alexander Lahorra.

Here is my 2019 – By the Numbers:

The Good

A close relative funeral sandwiched between weddings of dear friends by Q1

Solo trip to Baler, Aurora by February

Four more beach trips with friends at Liwliwa by January, Tingloy by February, La Union and Puerto Galera by June

10+ Strategic Leadership workshops at PayPal Philippines from Site Branding, to Coaching Styles, to Project Management

Gone thrice to Tagaytay (to relax of course) by March, September and November

Ten days of fashion show attendance, thanks to PMFF, PhFW and Manila Streetwear

Made to four Featured Stylistas list by Preview.ph and SceneZone

Four 10k runs with fitness buddy Carla Camu, thank you so much for influencing me to pursue Wellness!

* National Geographic Run 2019 by April, Fire Run 2019 by May, Skechers Performance Run 2019 by August and Manila City Run 2019 by October

Three CSR and Outreach programs participated in — total of 10 volunteer hours, over a hundred individual beneficiaries and countless lives touched.

Meal Packing with Rise Against Hunger and ICM last April

Christmas Football Fun with Football For Humanity, Muntinlupa United Football Club and Project Smile this December

Blood Donation Campaign with Philippine Red Cross Muntinlupa – Rizal Chapter also this December

Ten intense Monday mornings while watching the 8th and final season episodes of Game of Thrones. Episode Three – The Great War gave me a heartache.

Seven days of business trip at Dublin, Ireland! That is 18,000+ miles away and 30hrs flight time from home!

Eight major tourist locations spotted at Dublin and Northern Ireland

Giant’s Causeway

Bushmills Inn and Distillery

Dunluce Castle

Dark Hedges

Ha’penny Bridge

The Spire

Temple District

St. Stephen’s Green Park

Turned 34 this year BTW and at Dublin!

Walked for Jeffrey Rogador for 2nd year in a row this time with Brgy 143 at Manila Streetwear Cycle 2 last June

Three major team bonding activities with Team Ruru, with a lot of eat outs in between.

A first for me, to be recognized as Star Of The Night during an occasion, this time during our Holiday Party. Really, is this a consolation for not winning our dance performance? Just kidding!

The Not-So Good

Zero bpm, no pulse, as I examined a relative 10 minutes after collapsing secondary to a critical pre-existing condition. Cold and lifeless.

Two minutes of 5M intesity earthquake felt while at 17th floor

One particular individual that tested my yin and my yang. In a way I’m surprised that I can be good in switching to my alter-egos, theoretically of course. If they deserve shit, they will get shit.

A number of people that may be its time to let go. People do also change and not everyone can stay as a friend through out a lifetime. It has always been like that to be honest.

People live their life the way they want it, I live mine with a little more responsibility, to my own standards, duh. It pays to strive to do what is right, to make decisions that is humane, to live with little to no regret. To be thankful that I can experience happiness and gratitude on my own without being dependent on others can be of a big help.

Thank you so much 2019!!

***

Love what you read? Check out my social media accounts:

Facebook: TheStyleRandomGuy

Instagram, Twitter: @rowellrifrif

Say Goodnight To 2019 I remember entering the year of 2019 on a blank space, still unsure how I will start over or when can I completely recover.

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winters-cursed-king · 4 years

Text

When The Lights All Went Out- Chap 2

Fandom: The Aurora Cycle

Summary: Psych ward au ft. Asking for help is hard and Tyler sometimes needs to back off a bit

TWs: Anorexia/general eating disorder thoughts

Chapter 1 || Read On AO3

***

Breakfast was the worst part of the day.

Not just because Fin was still groggy, and his back and chest were always in burning pain. Not even because he barely had enough time between wakeup and breakfast to fit his exosuit on properly and sometimes he just wouldn’t be able to move a finger.

Or a leg.

And then he’d trip up and people would laugh.

Or if the universe particularly hated him, they’d offer help and pity. Staring down at him with those big sympathy filled eyes. Eyes that said oh you poor baby let me help you.

No. The worst torture inflicted was that people watched him eat. He knew they noticed that he only had an apple- albeit an apple that he’d cut into so many tiny chunks that it filled the entire plate.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t known what he was signing up for.

Though, really, he hadn’t signed up for anything. All it had taken was a few too many hospital trips and people stopped trusting him.

A few too many hospital trips and he’d wound up at the Legion.

And it wasn’t fair. People starved themselves more than he did all the time and they weren’t monitored because they had otherwise healthy bodies. And Fin just had to put on a grin and act like it was all fine.

He took a deep breath and cut the apple into smaller pieces. He was supposed to look like he wanted to heal, at least.

Nevermind that he was well past giving a fuck.

A piece of toast fell onto Fin’s plate, accompanied by a tanned hand and a very Tyler-like whistle.

If Fin had to deal with Tyler’s pretentious bullshit this morning, he was going to lose it.

“The fuck man?” Fin laughed. “If you needed a second plate all you had to do was ask.”

Tyler didn’t laugh along, which meant Fin didn’t get to see his ridiculously cute dimples, or the soft way his eyes lit up.

He did get to see, however, the drawn line of Tyler’s mouth that reminded Fin far too much of hospital nurses.

“You need to eat,” Tyler said stiffly.

Not happening.

Fin could barely even look at the food on his plate without feeling sick. Without having a wash of nausea tumble through his head and claws scratching at his stomach.

And the thought of eating it had his hands shaking and his knee bobbing up and down. All his hard work for nothing. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t.

Digging his fingernails into his thigh, maybe just hard enough to feel for bones, he forced an easy smile.

“The only thing I need to eat,” Fin raised his eyebrows at the others. “Is ass.”

Scarlett’s little choked out giggle made it worth it.

Her plate had four pieces of toast and several strawberries on it. But she was still so skinny.

Fin wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“That’s not true,” Tyler glared through a mouthful of mushrooms. “If you don’t eat, I’ll have no choice but to go tell someone.”

The new chick, Auri, was staring at her own plate awkwardly. She had sufficiently more food than Fin, but she hadn’t touched any of it yet. And Fin was certain the strawberries on Zila’s plate had once been on Auri’s.

But maybe Auri had just felt bad. Maybe she hadn’t known that Zila couldn’t eat unless the food could be split into seven equal portions. Maybe she hadn’t realised Zila couldn’t look at her food unless she’d circled her fork around 5 times clockwise and three times anticlockwise.

Tyler. Fin was supposed to be replying to Tyler.

“You wouldn’t,” Fin said quietly, letting all humour drop.

“Try me.”

The only thing preventing Fin from entering a glaring match with Tyler was the loud scrape of Kal pushing his plate away. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over that toned chest and perfect features tugged into a snarl.

And honestly? Watching two hot guys glare at each other sort of made up for the whole ordeal.

Sort of.

Fin painted the best smile he could. “I’ll let you two get a room.”

With another smile at Scarlett, and an almost-glare from Cat, Fin pushed himself up from the table.

His tray weighed heavy in his hands and he could feel eyes on him. Eyes on the food he was carrying.

It was too much to even be seen with, let alone be seen eating.

He pulled up a seat at the most hidden, empty table he could find. The eyes were still on his back and where the food brushed against his hands. But he had a much better chance of hiding what he wasn’t eating.

Finally he was alone again. And he wasn’t sure if the relief of not having to eat quite outweighed the clawing numbness in his chest.

#The aurora cycle #Aurora rising #Aurora burning #Fic #fanfiction #finian de karran de seel #Tyler Jones #Scarlett Jones #Aurora Jie Lin O'Malley #Cat Brannock #Kaliis Gilwraeth #Zila Madran #When the lights all went out #pysch ward au #anorexia tw

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jmaria200 · 6 years

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Sweet Pain

05/28/2018

Sweet Pain

05/28/2018

The first full day of the new eating lifestyle has come and gone and I’m in such need of a piece of strawberry licorice. I not sure if I should call it a diet(actually you don’t lose weight this time around), a lifestyle, torture, etc. It’s official name is The Whole 30, another food fad that attempts to right the wrongs of the American diet. This time sugar, specifically processed sugars,(you know everything that tastes great and is addicting), preservatives, starches are the enemies and the Whole 30 commands you to get rid of them, cold turkey. Instead you are beholden to meat, nuts, fish and other proteins and fruit for thirty days.

My wife, a worse junk food junkie than me, is on the hunt for the latest ways to curb her yearnings and this was her latest find. Having long waged the secret inner war with my sweet tooth face it almost all of us do, I signed up and even after the first day I’m craving good old fashioned sugar. Lord, what would we do without it in this country? Maybe not be so fat? I’ve decided to keep this online journal of my progress and my pain over the next 30 days.

5/29/2018

I feel lethargic, my mouth is constantly watering, and my head is fuzzy, . This marks the second day of the Whole30. Food, once reliable comfort, has become a antagonist. The kitchen is a mine field where I must step carefully. It is so easy to pluck out a sensual chocolate covered marshmallow from a red colored box and bite into it. The food I can eat sits like a bag of sand in my gut. It keeps me sustained but not happy.

I’ve read some of the literature and what I’m going through is quite normal and it will get worse before it gets better. My body is converting slowly converting from sugar based fuel to fat fuel (apparently good fats) however it doesn’t know how to do that yet so I am sluggish. I think I will accompany this blog with some research on the story of Americans obsession with sugar and processed foods. Writing will help distract me.

5/30/2018

Here I am two days behind. I’ll try to catch you up. I’m going to try to focus on not what I and my wife are doing this meal plan but why we’re doing it. Why this radical life change? I found this list symptoms from a website of a fitness expert. Guess what these refer too.

Anxiety

Changes in appetite

Cravings

Flu-like symptoms

Depression

Mood changes

Dizziness

Fatigue

Headaches

Shakiness

Changes in sleep patterns

Weight loss

Stomach flu? Food poisoning? Nope. These are the symptoms of sugar detox. Yep, that’s right. This is what happens if you take sugar out of your diet and I’m not talking about cookies and ice cream and chocolate. This plan goes much deeper: bread, pasta, beans, etc. All of these types of food are broken down into sugars in your body and sugars are being linked to inflammation, bad skin, poor mood, etc.

Now America is the land of diets and eating fads as in the end we as a society have little idea of what to eat and what is good for us. If this meal plan sounds like one the many movements out there that finds its enemy: fat, gluten, carbohydrates, etc and profits off getting people worked up about it, your right and I agree. More to come on this.

6/8/18

It is now day 11 of the Whole 30 food plan and clearly my attempts to keep up with this blog on a regular basis have failed. This is a conglomerate of previously mentioned twin infants that need near constant car and the mission to find not only summer employment but full term employment. I can easily recap most of what has happened in those missed days.

First, I feel I must break away from food talk only and integrate my career story as it is the other side of the coin that is my life right now and it is in trouble. My job history has been a floundering mess. I won’t go into all the gritty details as I feel they’ve been with me for at least a quarter of my life here on earth and they can get repetitive and depressing. Let’s say I had little idea of what I wanted to do coming out of college. I tried a few different fields usually based more on “this interests me” than real research. This tactic did not work very well. The pile of temporary, part time, and “road not taken” jobs grew and grew and, at forty two, I have yet to have a steady full time job. I discovered a love of teaching in my mid thirties, specifically freshman composition at the community college level, but I have remained woefully underemployed as an adjunct for five of the six part years. This lack of opportunity is a combination of the need for excessive education and experience for even entry level positions, the ongoing deterioration of the the writing career field, and the heightening level of competition. I also believe my subdued personality does not help my chances. I now have a family that depends on me and I’ve been able to do no better than a one year contract for the small Onondaga community college in upstate New York. Since then I’ve tried to shift into high school teaching. Once again the need for degrees and certification is rigorous. I have a master’s degree, albeit not in education, and was led to believe by the recruitment people of Anne Arundel community college master’s in education program that I could potentially land temporary teaching employment while gaining my certification. The Baltimore County public school systems didn’t seem to see it this way.(go figure) I’ve also had little to no help in figuring out what to put in my application packet to make me a more attractive candidate. Since the Onondaga success, my job search has become a rather dark cycle of sending out applications and getting rejections. Being a daddy doesn’t allow me much time to network and I tend to be poor in this area. I’ve sought out help from the state career program, but it is painfully slow. I take time to write about because I think the cumulative effect has become a mixture of depression and anxiety. Depression? That word is scary what with two celebrities having recently committed suicide in thew news. I have a family history of it. I have felt worn down and isolated lately but could it be that? Not knowing for sure is more worrisome which might lead to more depression. I go to bed anxious over money, anxious that my family will be well off, and wondering how many more years I need to struggle. II worry about retirement of course. I’ve scraped and saved what I could but without a solid income it’s going to be woefully inadequate. Could it be depression? I keep searching out some signal of depression in my consciousness as if I might uncover it but people who are depressed generally aren’t good at diagnosing their own condition. It’s hard to link the physical symptoms to something mental.

So what do I do? Well, I’m working hard to stay focused, to get more organized, but I need the help of others and that help is hard to find. I need career help. I’m leary of the integrity of paid career consultants but how long can I keep floundering? I can see this summer will be tedious. It will be about slowly piecing together the knowledge to get a foot in the door in high school and probably working a part time job that is a poor fit to get there. I will need strong doses of positivity and support in my life and a real sense of direction. I’m not sure where to find that right now. I love Aurora but she is not strong at being emotionally supportive, at least not for me. I will have to do some research on where I can find the help I need. I will leave my story there for now.

Whew, one of the best functions of writing is catharsis, to get one’s thoughts out there. It’s not pretty but it’s necessary. I wrote the previous section because it captures what is happening outside of the Whole30 and being a father and is vital to how I have been feeling over the past four days both mentally and physically. At first I’d naturally thought my symptoms were linked to the change in eating habits, but last Wednesday they took a real turn for the worst. I hadn’t felt that strange in a long time-just heavy and thick headed with blurry vision and shortness of breath. Each day I’ve felt a little better thankfully. I went to the doctor today to rule out physical cause. She didn’t find anything obvious but I still have blood labs pending that the neglected to get done. The intense labor of the Whole30 hasn’t helped my mood. No single meal is a simple grab and go and the constant preparation is taxing. in fact, I must bring this blog to a close now.

6/23/18

We are a nation of sugar addicts. “Two hundred years ago, the average American ate only 2 pounds of sugar a year. In 1970, we ate 123 pounds of sugar per year. Today, the average American consumes almost 152 pounds of sugar in one year. This is equal to 3 pounds (or 6 cups) of sugar consumed in one week” (www.dhhs.nh.gov). Sugar is everywhere in our diet slipped into breads and bacon to make them more desirable so we eat more. Here’s the little secret that is not really a secret: these foods are desirable while not satisfying so we eat more and more so we buy more. Food companies figured this out a long time ago. It’s good for business and bad for people. These are one of the tenants of the Whole 30, to become aware of how we are being manipulated this way. Whats more, like many business influenced trends, these machinations only become really effective when they are normalized by culture. Just think about how many American cultural norms involve sweets and processed food of some form: cakes at birthdays, drinking alcohol at social gathering, cheap vending food at sporting events. If you want to stand out at just about any social gathering American society, try avoiding foods with sugars and processed foods. Many conversations this way leading inevitably to discussion of the Whole 30. This was one of the most surprising side effects of being on this meal plan. I and my wife had to educate the waiter of a expensive steak house in Washington D.C. on the guidelines of our meal plan. Most dining out experiences will be this way. Sorry, but we can’t eat ninety five percent of the food on the menu.

Just walking into a grocery store, I was shocked by how much was off limits: pasta, cereal, juice, etc. That was one of the great challenges of this diet. What could we eat? Obviously, there was meats and vegetables and fruits but what about diary? beans?. They don’t have added sugar, right? While diary and things like beans did not have added sugar they include sugars and other chemicals that aren’t necessarily healthy.(For more on this read the accompanying book It Starts With Food). If you’re skeptical at this point, I’m understand. I’m still a skeptic. After all, the Whole 30 is another lifestyle program, one of many products that is being marketed to the public in the age of food confusion in this country.

7/1/18

Promises, Promises...

“Systemic inflammation” seems to be the catchphrase behind the Whole 30. (There’s a lot of food science behind this that I won’t go into. Again read the book). The jist of systemic inflammation is that bad foods silently hurts your body. Over time this damage shows up as illnesses including allergies, depression, and diabetes. Eating foods that contribute to both physical and psychological well being can lead to better health. This idea seems legitimate enough but then the authors also include anecdotes by people with illnesses ranging from lyme disease to diabetes whose symptoms disappeared after being on the Whole 30. You can practically hear the credibility of the writers straining here. I had eczema before the Whole 30 and and I still have eczema after it. All in all, taking sugar out and adding more protein is beneficial to people but let’s hold off on the miracles.

While I’m on the topic of veracity, I can understand the authors of the Whole 30 exaggerating the effects of their meal plan- after all maybe one person out there with lyme disease did experience an improvement in their symptoms and, if this doesn’t happen, no one would necessarily be worse off-since their plan seems sound and is self directed for the most part. I didn’t need to constantly by products from the authors of the Whole 30. But what about those companies that, for all intensive purposes, are influential on our health, what about the stories that the food industry tell?

“the post-crash world appears to have become much more cynical about the behavior and motives of corporations.” (Beatte). Unless you’ve been “off the grid” for most of your life you’re probably all too familiar with the constant avalanche of ads that are forced upon Americans everyday so much so that, like me, you’d do anything to get away from them. Now I’ve already covered the influences of advertising in another part of this blog; however, the food industry holds a special place among advertisers as, for better or worse, they often determine what we put in our bodies in this country and this isn’t necessarily due to their popularity but a well designed combination of market control and addiction.

The master plan

The current state of the American diet is, like most institutions, a result of the interaction between corporations, the government, and the individual where each party is both influential and under the influence. However, what is key here is that the influence of the individual has eroded significantly over the years unless they happen to be wealthy enough to be influential. Government has responded more to these wealthy and corporations creating more and more of a corporate dictated agenda.

The Food Guys

If you do a little research you’ll find that thanks to constant mergers and take overs about ten mega corporations control most of the U.S. food production. Think about that, just ten! Some are well known like Pepsico, which owns Tropicana, Quaker, Lays, while others are more obscure like Unilever that owns Knorr, Good Humor, and Skippie. Regardless, you can bet you’ve eaten something made by one of of these ten companies recently. Much like health care and airline travel, a key aspect of weakly regulated capitalism is that power in the form of market control can be consolidated in the hands of a few major players and this is scary especially when it comes to our food. These companies may not necessarily set out to give people cheap, poor quality food but this arises out of an effective business model that calls for high profit and low cost and if one is successful they can dominate the market. This model may work for computers or cars but not necessarily food.

Now before I go on lambasting corporations there are some important details to cover. A good capitalist would probably argue that companies are simply responding to market demands. This is one of the classic “pass the buck” phrases business people use to recuse themselves(and it drives me crazy)but it is important to consider. Keep firmly in mind the question: “Who has helped create these market demands?”

Today, people have less free time to prepare and consume their meals. Yes, this seems to be the trend ever since the post World War II years when consumer culture took off in this country and packaged, processed food along with it. Appliances became more commonplace in the home, woman started to go to college and get jobs outside the home, and the car became more available. One of the largest changes in the household was the television. Now with the help of the tv dinner one could watch their favorite shows and eat at the same time. Over the years the cost of living has increased, wages have stagnated, and people have to work more than ever to keep up. Business stepped up and what started with the tv dinner has slowly blown up into a full industry of packaged, processed food. These foods were tasty and easy to make. How many times has these phrases been uttered in a food commercial? Consider though who has influenced many of these lifestyle changes? Who has increased the working day, kept wages generally flat, and increased costs? The general picture is that businesses have either through direct influence or through influence on government public policy and today Americans are probably more stressed and less healthy than every before.

Consider how foods are advertised in this country. Let’s take the Coca Cola corporation. Coca Cola is best known for their soda but they also control a large percentage of what we drink: Perrier water, Minute maid juice, and Nos energy drink. Coca Cola often uses images of young, hip looking people smiling and drinking their soda(Heck, what company out there doesn’t use young, hip, ethnically diverse people to sell their product? That is a generalization...let us continue). These ads remind you that drinking soda (pure sugar and other flavorings in carbonated water) can be fun and social, so much more than just soda. There is of course no mention that soda with destroy your teeth and probably cripple your health over time. An advertiser would have to be insane to let on such information about their product. But imagine if they did. If there was a disclaimer at the end of soda commercials. Would it make a difference? I’m betting not and this is where the addiction factor comes in. Look at smoking. It is well known that smoking can cause serious health problems and even death.There are commercials and prints ads constantly advertising these facts yet people continue to smoke because it is addictive. In the information age, people generally know the health threats of drinking soda over a life time yet they still do. This is where individual choice does come in(more on this later) and, as mentioned before, sugar is another addictive substance and companies rely on this.

The Coca Cola corporation doesn’t claim their product is healthy but many other companies do. Take cereals. Breakfast cereals are often so processed that there is little nutritionally value, yet companies put labels on like “part of a balanced breakfast”, “containing vitamins A, B....”, “5 whole grains”. Companies attempt to replace some of the lost nutrition in these foods but they are far from healthy. Also any nutrition is offset by the amount of sugar in these cereals. This is especially tragic when one realizes that some of the worst cereals are marketed to children with flashy cartoon characters, logos, and commercials. I admit it wouldn’t take much for me to eat a bowl of Count Chocula even now knowing how bad for me it is. That is growing up in this country. I hope different for my children, but the corporate machine is hard to escape.

The Men in Black

“Read the farm bill, and a big problem jumps right out at you: Taxpayers heavily subsidize corn and soy, two crops that facilitate the meat and processed food we’re supposed to eat less of, and do almost nothing for the fruits and vegetables we’re supposed to eat more of.” (Haspel)

Healthy food like fruits and vegetables are usually more costly to grow and transport and organic food can’t use chemical pesticides,herbicides, or genetically modified organisms. Since the 1930′s the United States government has subsidized (helped pay for) farming in this country to protect our food sources as raising food can be unpredictable. The Farm Bill began with good intentions but the money has slowly been funneled to supporting a few crops like corn and soy that are versatile and can be broken down and used in many processed and unhealthy foods. Consider that our government is supporting the production of poor quality foods? What does this mean for us? It means the commonly cited downsides of the the American diet: diabetes, obesity, heart disease, etc. all given a stamp of approval by politicians who are pledged to watch out for us. On the plus side not being subsidized is often favored by farmers as they don’t need to meet the regulations set by the government but it still means people will pay more. People do have the choice not to eat these foods, but realistically not everyone can afford these costs and, if they can’t, people become trapped eating unhealthy food cycles not to mention deepening the already aggravated class divide in America. It’s much easier to get potato chips than organic fruit. Organic apples are on average three dollars a pound(which means about two) while potato chips are three dollars a bag. You can eat a lot more chips for the same money but the chips are sad, empty calories but, as I mentioned earlier, people will buy and eat them not because they are healthy but we have slowly become wired to do so. Currently slashing or stalling social welfare programs is the trend in government. Public policy has become heavily influenced by corporate interest over public good due in large part to funding of campaigns by companies and the wealthy ergo there is little possibility right now.

Choice of the People

Our American class structure can be seen in our food. The neighborhood I currently live in, which shall remain unnamed for reasons of privacy, is considered marginal. People are more often working class and black. This neighborhood was also known as a urban food desert for some time.(One neighborhood over is a wealthy, mostly white neighborhood with a high end, albeit expensive grocery store). Food deserts are areas without a decent source of healthy foods. They exist in the poorer sections of many major U.S. cities including New Orleans, New York, and Memphis. 7-11′s and corner bodegas often don’t count. In fact, the convenience store is one of the greatest offenders concerning food choice. They have made food too convenient. Just look at the shelves of any convenience store.

A low end grocery store finally came to this neighborhood. They stack most of their products on the floor instead of on shelves, their staff is poorly trained, and, while the store does sell fresh produce and even a little organic food if you look hard, the majority of the products are standard processed foods: Drakes desserts, chips, processed meats, etc. I’ve watched people in line with carts filled with soda. I can’t be too critical as I was making poor food choices all the same, but not on this level. Why does anyone would need ten bottles of soda? The evidence is in the obese bodies and poor skin. Yet, people consume these foods. This can be for three main reasons: they are aware but apathetic, they aren’t aware, they are aware but not doing enough or following one the ineffective “diets” out there. Often the poor and working class fall in the second category.

Back to Biology

Early humans had to eat what they could kill or gather(Raising crops for a stable source of food came later). We subsisted on meats, berries, nuts, etc. These were necessary, nutritious sources of protein and fiber. Fats and sugars were rare and highly desirable as they meant easy calories especially for lean times. This is where our evolutionary biology was cemented and still functions this way, but now we are provided a plethora of cheap fats and sugars everywhere. They taste good and give us a quick boost. But these foods don’t provide sufficient nutrition so we are constantly needing to eat more and more while gaining mostly empty calories and health problems. This makes sense if you stand back and think about it. This is the “addiction” factor that aids companies in getting us to eat poor quality food. The food makes us feel good in the short term, but in the long run we crash and need more. Thus, the “addiction” factor.

Apple or Ring Ding?

While sugar, fat, and salt can be addictive and some people have financial problems, ultimately people choose what they put in their bodies and their bodies will hold them responsible. This is especially true when we are people who know or suspect what we eat is bad for us and continue to do so. I believe this is tied to an idea I’ve brought up before, our culture. America is the land of opportunity where we can all have the American dream that are really just that for most of us, a dream that we continue to cling too. This ability to better ourselves is both beautiful and tragic. America is a society whose people struggle to face it’s darker sides instead burying them in indulgences or placing blame elsewhere. This collective denial makes us extremely malleable. We are already primed to believe in our food, our politics, our society. No matter how self destructive over time vices become misconstrued as personal rights. By buying gas guzzling vehicles, shopping, indulging in poor quality foods, collecting dangerous guns we declare our freedom from the system when it’s the system that is providing these. This beautiful psychology that companies can only cheer us on and count their money. Buy more. Eat more. Excess is wonderful. Be rebellious and trendy by buying phones and drinking soda. Companies let us down, cheat us, and we still buy their products and elect officials who take their money. We grumble when the government doesn’t punish these companies but we don’t either. Despite having mentioned the short comings and influences of corporations and government, it is up to us to determine what is good for us. I believe what we’ve lost sight of the most in this country is the sense of personal advocacy and a sense of unity to stand up ourselves, the power of the customer, of the voter. Instead we fight and criticize and go along.

The experience of the Whole 30 has helped me be a healthier person, but it has really helped me take action and reconsider my perspective concerning the food I eat. I’ve tried to relay the many facets of what I’ve learned here for others who may be curious. Also I should end with there are some positive changes on horizon. Organic food is now available in more grocery stores than ever before. The fast casual restaurant offer healthier choices that have eaten into the profits of fast food companies like McDonald’s, all because educated customers have demanded it. However, changes need to come from the top down, from the government and that is where the real hard work comes in because first we need to heal the rifts in our society. Then maybe we can eat better.

7/5/18

The Results.

The end of the Whole 30 has arrived, well, it actually arrived more than a week ago so clearly I’m not a dedicated diarist. I’ve also done the “reintroduction” portion of the meal plan where by I bring back the foods I’ve given up.I’m going to discuss both the small scale and bigger picture results of this experiment.

The results:

I can taste more, For example, fruits are sweeter and meats are richer.

I have more consistent energy.

I don’t get as hungry between meals.

I don’t have the craving for added sugar that I once did but I can tell from sampling foods with added sugar that it is quite easy to go back.

Diary is hard on my stomach.

Alcohol gives me a headache even after one glass of wine

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