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deluweil · 3 years

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Buddie 4x14 review - if you haven’t watched it yet don’t read.

The episode starts where we left it, once Buck was on the ground, it seems like he was thrust back into reality. I noticed two things here (connected with 4x13) Eddie didn’t close his eyes until Buck was safe behind the truck on the ground. And the second thing is that Buck was spurred into action the moment Eddie’s eyes closed.

And I mean this was some BAMF Buckley right there, that was SEALS trained Evan Buckley! 😱🤩 It’s like training and instinct kicked in and all that mattered was to get to Eddie and get him help as soon as possible, sniper’s bullets be damned. I gotta say it was executed to perfection❣

Big kudos to both Oliver and Ryan for delivering this whole sequence in a heart-wrenching, beautiful manner.

The shooting doesn’t stop and they get Eddie out of there under fire, I really like the 133 captain and crew, they worked so well with the members of the 118, it seemed effortless. (I’m not touching that subject, but let’s picture Buck lifting Eddie bodily up into his arms and in to the truck for just a second here. - I mean we wanted it but not under these circumstances)

Buck taking the role of medic when finally getting Eddie into the truck, is so amazing, he’s usually the one either in need for treatment or the one who stands back and let’s Hen, Chim and Eddie do the medic stuff, it is their jobs after all, but he doesn’t sit back and let the medics of the 133 to take over, he does it himself.

He tore Eddie’s uniform’s buttons open (again, that’s not how any of us wished for this to happen), tore the pressure bandage wrap open and pressed it down on the wound, he did not step back from Eddie, until he absolutely has to, at the hospital. 😭

Eddie, my poor baby, was lying on the ground of the truck, bleeding and half conscious and the one thing he focused on was the blood on Buck’s shirt and he asked him if he’s hurt. I mean I could totally cry, because that’s Eddie. Best friend, combat medic, protective and caring, that never goes away even as he’s lying there bleeding. 🥺🥺

Eddie was legit ready to forget his injuries and try to get up and take care of Buck if he was hurt too. He loses consciousness only when Buck assures him that he’s not hurt.

Buck’s frantic litany of “Just hang on, we’re almost there.” and “I need you to hang on” (“I need you”, not we, not Christopher, “I need you”) was really hard to watch, because even though we all read and wrote it in fanfics thousands of times, watching it actually play out was heartbreaking, I totally teared up with Buck there.🥺🥺

For firefighters the job ends at the hospital doors, so Buck naturally, out of instinct stops from following. But that’s Eddie taken away from him and he looks frozen, at that moment he must have thousands of thoughts running around his head.

“You ok Buckley?”

Buck’s broken “No.” was maybe expected, but it was also earth shattering of sorts. This is Buck standing there, knowing (especially after the well incident) that when Eddie is not okay, he’s not either. 😭❤

I want to point out that I loved the fact that the 133 didn’t just drive away or waited outside for the cops, they went in after Eddie. And after trying to check in on Buck, the Captain of the 133 went in too.

I’m going to point out a parallel here between S3 Finale and S4 finale, in 3x18 Eddie asks Buck if he’s ok as his ex-girlfriend was taken in the ambulance with her new fiancé, Buck’s response was “What’s next?” and going back to work. He was okay, because Eddie was with him, and there was still work to be done.

Here in 4x14, Eddie is taken from him to the hospital, and Buck doesn’t know if he’ll live, so Buck’s obvious answer here is ‘No’.

Later we see Buck exiting the hospital, in his firefighter uniform. I’m a little disappointed we don’t see him cleaning up, I know that could have made for a hell of a scene, Oliver would have killed it, and us in my opinion.

Taylor is coming to the hospital, not as a reporter but as a friend. She was worried. I like that side of her, when she knows to put away the reporter and to make sure her friend is in one piece. Her character development is shown beautifully in this scene.

Buck, in no condition to pretend and speak to the press, turns away from her, he doesn’t trust her at that moment and he doesn’t trust himself not to break down there. He’s teary, still in shock and his hands are shaking like crazy. (in complete contrast to the usual Buck, where he can be in danger or wrap up a crazy rescue and he is normally completely steady.)

Taylor, offered to take Buck to Eddie’s house to see Christopher, telling him he can’t go see Chris looking like he does now. “You can’t got see his son like that.” - At first hear and several others it sounded like “Your son.” - of course it’s not but either way it would have been true too, because in a way Buck has been co-parenting Christopher for a very long time now. And indeed later when Buck gets to Eddie’s house he is washed and dressed in civilian clothes.

The scene with Oli and Gavin killed me! I thought for sure the breaking down will be done in private, but Buck couldn’t hold it together in front of Christopher once he found out Eddie is going to be ok, and Christopher comforting Buck was so so sweet.

Christopher’s “like the ones who fixed you?” Kind of gives us a certain idea as to the conversation Eddie had to have with Christopher when Buck was hurt. His sweet “Then he’s going to be ok,” he says it with such conviction, only adding “right?” only as an afterthought.

And as if he manifested it himself Buck then gets a text from Bobby that tells him that Eddie pulled through surgery and it looks good.

Buck actually dropped the phone from the relief and he started to cry, and sweet, adorable, national treasure Christopher puts an arm around him and tells him that Eddie is going to be okay. I definitely cried with Buck here. It was such a powerful scene and it was portrayed so well by Oliver and Gavin.

The “it’s going to be okay Buck” was kind of a call back to 3x01 - when Christopher reassures Buck and tells him “You’re going to be okay kid.” - I love these two together so much! ❤❤

When Bobby gives them the talk in the firehouse about how they proceed from there, Buck is standing with his arms crossed, looking completely dejected. And when Hen asks about the safety of their families, Bobby says there's no reason to believe they are in danger, Buck pipes in with “We didn’t have a reason to believe Eddie will get shot helping a kid either.” Buck is traumatized, and worried, he sleeps at Eddie’s house looking after Christopher.

I loved Christopher waking Buck up, and them having cereal breakfast together, a call back to Eddie and Christopher having breakfast together in 2x04. Buck doesn’t sit next to Chris, but across from him - to me it says that the seat between them is usually reserved to Eddie when they’re together at the house.

I love how Christopher’s teasing Buck about him snoring. And Buck is later confused because he’s unsure of whether or not Chris really understands what’s happening, but Carla assures him that he already lost his mother, unfortunately he understands better than he or she thinks. Which again should give people a new appreciation for Christopher’s sunshine child attitude.🥺❤

Carla showing up to take Christopher to school, is showing relief that Buck could finally sleep, which means that he didn’t for at least a couple of nights. She’s also asking him how it feels to go to work, Buck doesn’t even think about the sniper, for him all that matters is that Eddie is not out there with him and it feels off. (call back to 2x18 when Eddie seemed pensive about being back at work but Buck was not with them.)

Carla, bless her, retorts that that is not what she was asking - obviously she meant, she was worried about the sniper, but that is not Buck’s main worry, his head and his heart are somewhere else.

The crane scene was insane! I laughed when Chimney looked to Bobby and asked him “Can you blame him cap?” and Bobby flat out responded “Yeah!” 😂

The rescue was really impressive. However if Eddie ever found out about this he would probably hit Buck over the head with something heavy. It just goes to show that Eddie is Buck’s impulse control and vice-versa.

Bobby and Buck’s interaction wasn’t one of anger, Bobby was terrified and Buck was guilty but unapologetic, because he couldn’t protect Eddie but he could protect the rest of his family, so he did just that. Bobby didn’t have anything to say other than give him the same response Eddie did in Monsters - “Don’t do it again.” - Because for one, in my opinion, Bobby knows where Buck is coming from and also Bobby knows, he knows Eddie is Buck’s impulse control, knows he’s his anchor, he knows that Buck will only be his relatively normal self when Eddie comes back.

I’m not even going to touch the Taylor scene, yes she was worried, and yes she scolded him in a friendly way, but that kiss felt so out of left field for me, especially since Buck was just packing a bag to go stay with Christopher and Eddie was still unconscious at the hospital.

Also she freaking friendzoned him last episode, how fickle do male writers think women are? She gets a little scared and kisses the guy? Lucky they didn’t write in a sex scene! That was an insult to women everywhere in my opinion. It could have been set in so many better opportunities, why now? And if she’s scared now what’s to say that won’t make her leave like Ali did? I have a whole tirade about it but I will let it go for now.

Now I know ya’ll are like - Eddie woke up because his spidey senses told him someone was kissing his Buck (and I do not negate that point lol), but he just woke up and he asked for Buck. I find it so deliriously endearing that I need a moment even as I’m writing this.🤗🤗

I have to point out that there is no scene of Buck, Eddie and she who will not be name together other than the second when Buck walks in (read ran through the hospital corridors) and Eddie has only eyes for his partner. 👀❤

Afterwards it just the two of them, with a brief facetime to Christopher. I love that Eddie thanks Buck for staying with Chris, and Buck pretty much breaks down the logic behind the decision, like a true parent. - Christopher’s comfort came first in Buck’s eyes, and really that just demanded a hug right there.

“Is he doing ok?”

Buck’s response here, was very honest, a lot more honest than I expected, “better than me.” He said. Buck openly admits to Eddie, “I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot. I’m sorry I should have held it together.” To be honest, I’m very curious as to the ins and outs of Buck and Eddie’s friendship, especially during quarantine, they seem so much closer, a lot more open. More honest than you'd expect two male, straight, lead characters to be with their friends.

Buck would have played it down and shared only the essentials when it’s anybody else. With Eddie he openly saying here, in his own way, ‘I was terrified, and heartbroken, and ‘couldn’t imagine my world without you.’ - ‘I couldn’t function with a clear head.’ - ‘all my masks were shattered.’

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be, that’s what matters.” Eddie knows, buck, he understands him better than anyone, he’s telling him here in his own way that it’s okay, and he loves him just the way he is - it was his way to reassure Buck that he was doing just fine.

But Buck’s “Still I think it might have been better for him if I was the one who got shot.” - Eddie looked like he was ready to get up and smack some sense into Buck.

I want to point out that Buck’s response to Eddie being hurt or in danger is nowhere near the same as his response to anyone else in danger. Case in point in 4x14 is Bobby, he is inside, probably injured, in a fire with a gunman - if it was Eddie, Buck would have waited 0.1 seconds before he disappeared back into the flames to help Eddie.

With Bobby, he was calm, cool, calculated, he knew what Athena would do because that’s exactly what he would have done if it had been Eddie and he is ready with helpful details and a plan. He wants to go with her, but doesn’t argue when she says no.

Eddie is Buck’s Bobby, and it reflects all throughout this episode, and I think I had some parallels pointed out in 4x13 too. So I don’t know what scripts Tim reads or if we’re all watching the same show but buddie exists and thriving as far as I’m concerned.

Buck is also the one to pick Eddie up at the hospital - he tells him that the nurse is getting his meds and discharge papers ready, which means that Buck did all that process, he was busy getting Eddie discharged. (Take a moment to soak it in.)😌

Eddie sits Buck down to talk, to be honest this talk went pretty much the way I expected it.

Eddie explains why he had his will updated, and that Buck is Christopher’s legal guardian if anything happens to Eddie. - I love that after all this time, sweet Buck is still surprised.

He asks if Eddie didn’t need his consent for this and Eddie’s reply is: “My attorney said you could refuse.”

I also love, that even shell-shocked, Buck knows that Eddie knows him “You know I wouldn’t.”

And Eddie assures him that he does in fact know Buck, and he knows that Buck loves Christopher as much as Eddie does “I know you wouldn’t.”

(”I had to do it.” - “Yeah, I know you did.” this was a call back to 4x05 where Eddie understood why Buck did what he did. And knowing what we know now, I can assume that even though Eddie understood and forgave Buck, he didn’t have to like it.)

“No one will ever fight for my son as hard as you.” - call back to 3x03 anyone?

“There’s no one I trust with my son more than you.” - and Eddie proves it time and again.

And here he is basically giving Buck permission to give hell to his parents or anyone who tries to take Christopher away from His Buck. - And I love it!! 🤗❤

Buck, smart, handsome guy that he is, asks the right question again - “Why are you just telling me now?”

“Because Evan.” That first name that even took Buck by surprise, because Eddie only ever called him Buck, to our knowledge anyway. - Eddie was talking to Evan Buckley, not Buck, and yes they are two separate entities living inside one hunky firefighter. - This is Eddie saying, I know you’re frayed around the edges, I know I’m asking for a lot right now but I need you to hear me.

“You came in here the other day and you said it would have been better if you who were the one who was shot,” and I think for Eddie, who was lying on that firetruck floor bleeding out, and his only concern was that Buck may have been hurt, that was the worst thing Buck could have said.

“you act like you’re expandable but you’re wrong.”

Eddie has been where Buck is at that moment, losing his wife, watching his best friend nearly die time and again. - Really at this point Eddie just wants him safe, and if telling him about Christopher is what will do the trick, then he is not above playing dirty.

Eddie is telling Buck, you are my partner, you are Christopher's second parent, I love you, Christopher loves you, I don’t know what I’d do without you. - Because Eddie has been without Buck before and he was completely lost. - And that’s before they became even more intertwined as they are now.

I love the second before Buck and Eddie enter, Eddie’s house, before Buck opens the door, Eddie looks like he’s steeling himself to get in and Buck has a knowing grin on his face, somewhere between ‘ready?’ and ‘they’re happy you’re back be nice.’ 👀😂

I hated the jump forward, but everyone standing on the roof looking good and Eddie with those sunglasses? wow!! 🥵🤩

This was an all out buddie episode, and I was totally there for it!! I really hope for many more, because these two give me life!!

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #LIs who?#christopher diaz #buck is christopher’s second dad #it's pretty much canon now #buddie and bathena parallels #call back #9-1-1 4x14 #9 1 1 on fox #9-1-1 on fox #9 1 1 spoilers #❤❤❤

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domesticmail · 3 years

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the bird and her cage; one

chapter one; litany in which certain things are crossed out

a/n: colton anon !!! here’s your first chapter :) i hope you like it!!

MASTERLIST

PLAYLIST

TAGLIST

warnings: mention of physical, verbal, and mental abuse. alcohol.

word count: 2.3k

you poor, sad thing

you want a better story...

who wouldn’t?

- richard siken

You are so cold. The jacket you’re wearing was meant to look cute, not to provide warmth, and you’re suddenly regretting the choice to wear it as freezing air bites any revealed skin. Your hands are shaking, your legs are burning, and your teeth are chattering as you force yourself to move, keep running, keep moving, you can’t stop you can’t you have to keep going.

Headlights engulf you in bright, cutting light. You look back while moving forward, craning your neck to get a good view of the car because oh god, if it’s him, you’re going to die.

As the Volkswagen speeds past you, you put an arm up to shield your eyes from the light. Fuck. Your breath fogs the air and when it feels like you are finally too tired to keep running, you remember your phone, its weight pressing against you in your back pocket. Like a woman who has found god, you cry as you take it out and, hands and fingers shaking in the freezing air, get yourself an Uber for wherever the fuck you are. You type in “hotel” and click the first address you see, nearly sobbing with the release of tension. Thank god, you think to yourself, I can leave, I can get away, thank god, oh, thank you, oh my god.

Thirty minutes later you find yourself standing in front of a random hotel in St. Louis, broken-hearted and desperate.

And it’s painfully apparent.

The guy at the reception desk clearly sees that you’re in some sort of troubling situation, because he doesn’t ask any more questions than he has to. He smiles in that pitying way that strangers do when he hands you your room key, second floor, and you just nod weakly.

The room is comfortable. It’s unremarkable, really - clinically clean, the way hotel rooms are. You know they don’t clean the duvets, so you fold it down and crawl under the covers. You bring your knees to your chest and just rest for a moment. You close your eyes, big inhale, big exhale. I’m safe, you think to yourself.I’m finally safe.

The thought brings tears to your eyes, and in the company of yourself you cry, shaking sobs racking your body, fragile and sad and finally, finally safe. Your phone pulls you from the tears, ringing the tone you set specifically for one person; the only person on the planet you trust. Of course he’s calling, you think to yourself. No surprise there. His timing, coincidental or not, is unmatched.You slide answer on your phone screen, push the speaker to your ear with a sniffle.

“Dad?

”His voice, deep just like you remember, echoes through the other end. You haven’t heard him in a while, he’s been on a work trip, you thought, and yet here he is. Dad knows. “Kid?”

Your voice catches in your throat when you ask again, “Dad?”

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” That stereotypical concern lacing his words. It’s been weeks since you’ve talked over the phone, and here he finally is, exactly the way he was last time you spoke.

A hiccup as you say, “No - no, Dad, I’m…” Your words trail away. What are you supposed to say? Steven turned out to be an abusive prick, just like you’d always guessed. I’m in the middle of a place I don’t know, and I am so, so tired, Dad, I need you to save me. I need you to come here and save me because I don’t know if I can save myself from this - “You there?” He asks.

“Yeah, sorry.” You clear your throat. Better to go with the less explosive option. “Um, Dad, Steven and I broke up.”

A moment of silence.“The engagement’s off?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

Another pause. You can practically see him now, rubbing his forehead in that way Dads do when they know there’s something really bad going on but they don’t know if boundaries permit them to ask. He inhales and exhales hard. “Are you okay?”

You start to say yes, but your voice catches again, the lump in your throat like a terrible rock, throat constricted around it, and you begin to cry as you say once more, “No, I’m not, I don’t know where I am or what to do and I’m tired, Dad, I’m so tired of doing things. I’m tired of him and of everyone and of my life and I just - I want to get away.”

Once again, a pause. He’s got his index and middle fingers pressed into his cheek now, thumb supporting his chin, weighing your words. If he were a better man he would buy you a plane ticket; if he were worse, he would tell you it was your fault.But he is merely himself, and he clears his throat. “Okay. Okay.”

You rub your nose and sniffle again.

He asks, “Where are you, kid?”

“I - I don’t…” You start, then catch yourself. “One second.” You pull up Maps on your phone, then sigh. “I’m at a hotel in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis?” He whistles low. “That’s a ways away from Kansas, Dorothy.”

“Dad.“ You laugh despite yourself.

“I know, I know. Forgive me.” He coughs. “So, St. Louis. Missouri?” “Yeah.”

“Mkay. Do you want to come home?”

There’s a question. If you go back home, back to New York, you’ll be stuck in your apartment, and that’s...less than preferable. You’d rather not spend the next month in the bed you shared with him, every picture and appliance flooded with memories of the vile man you’d been engaged to.

And anyways, this hotel room wasn’t that bad. Like you’d said earlier, clinical. No memories. A clean slate.“No - well, at least, not yet,” you sniffle.“Okay. Do you - are you in a good hotel? Do I need to get you a room somewhere nicer?”“No, no, Dad, I’m fine where I am.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“You don’t have to keep saying okay.”

He sighs on his end of the phone, and you can’t help yourself from smiling.

“Look, you’re an adult,” he says, “so I’m not going to micromanage you or anything. I mean, if it were your mother instead of me, you’d be on the next plane home. But I think maybe this, this time away, it’ll be good for you.”

“It will, Dad, I promise. I just can’t be anywhere he is right now.”

Another trademark pause.

“Did he hurt you, honey?”

You gulp.

“Y/N?”

Exhale. Don’t panic. If you can’t trust him, who can you trust?

“He was...abusive, yeah.” Sniffle. Tears threaten to flood your eyes but you hold them back with a sharp nip to your lip. “But I’m safe now. I’m safe.”

“I’ll make sure the son of a bitch can’t come within a mile - “

“No, Dad, you don’t have to - “

“I want to. Let me do this for you.”

You sigh. “Dad.”

“No. No leaning on this one.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” You can practically hear the angry grin on his face. Men, you think to yourself. “You have your wallet, and money, and everything?”

You pat your other pocket, feel the ridges of your wallet pressing into the fabric. “Yeah.”

“Okay. What about clothes?”

“Uh….no.”

“No problem. I’ll make a few calls.”

“No - “

“Yes. I’ll text you with the details.”

You huff. “Fine.”

“Alright. You call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Hey. I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up first, and you find yourself sitting alone in the empty hotel room.

You’re not good at being alone. You come from a big family, five siblings, two parents; you’re used to noise, commotion, distractions. The hotel walls feel like they’re creeping in on you, big, silent rumblings as they crawl towards you slowly. The lack of noise is deafening, your skin is crawling, eyes itching for a distraction.

You need to get out.

There’s a bar a few blocks away, Yelp informs you as you weave through pedestrians on the sidewalk. Someone bumps your shoulder; you turn to look at them but they are already lost in the crowd of people. It’s a Friday night, everyone is getting out of work, just let it go. You’re going to get stampeded if you don’t keep moving - there’s already someone passing you, silently annoyed, you’re sure.

Paddy O’s, the sign high above the door says. From inside you can hear the hustle and bustle of a Friday night crowd, no doubt watching some event on the TVs above the bar.

The door swings open and suddenly the noise loses its muffler as two beautiful women exit. One is tall, with deep, dark brown hair and striking features. Her left arm is draped around the shoulders of a smaller redheaded woman, who is laughing and holding her hand. The redhead has a pronounced accent and can’t get through three words without bursting into laughter. The taller woman is smiling down at her, chuckling.

They are dressed like they went to the bar immediately after work; that is to say, they’re dressed quite nicely. You look from the tall woman’s pantsuit to the redhead’s turtleneck and pants, and then to your own outfit. If their clothing is the usual for this place, then you are severely underdressed.

It’s a bar, Y/N, you think to yourself, shaking your head. You close your eyes and inhale steadily. You’ve got this.

After a few moments, you open your eyes again. The couple has disappeared from sight; probably back to their car. You walk to the doors and open one, entering the bar.

As expected, it’s loud, and it’s crowded, but there’s a seat at the bar a couple feet in that looks comfortable enough. You move through the surrounding patrons to take the seat, and order yourself an old fashioned - it’s your dad’s favorite, and you could use a little comfort right now.

The people on either side of you are deeply engaged in their own conversations. To your left is a woman of about 20, sitting with a man who you assume is her husband. From the small pieces of their conversation you can pick up on, she’s having a problem at work, and from the looks of it, he is humoring her by pretending to listen. You don’t know if she knows he’s not actually listening - but that’s not really your business. The guy to your right, you can tell, is one of those guys who peaked in high school. He’s chatting up the girl to his right about how his YouTube channel is just getting off the ground, and the merch line (you cringe at the phrase merch line) is coming out soon.

So you’re by yourself, basically. The seat you’re occupying is your own little bubble in this bar, where you are the sole occupant. There’s nobody looking at you, nobody watching your move, listening to you order. No one is engaging you in conversation, trying to grab your attention. You are, just like in the hotel, completely alone.

And holy shit, you hate this.

Panic floods your veins, because oh god, this was a terrible idea. You are completely alone in a city you have never been in before and you decide to go to a fucking bar? In a random city? Oh, this takes the cake for stupid decisions. You really just up and decided to put yourself in a dangerous situation in a town where you have no one. Very smart.

You take a sip of your drink as the guy who peaked in high school and his date get up from their seats. The empty space makes you uncomfortable; you don’t want anyone to sit there but you also don’t want to be sitting next to open seats.

The glass is shaking in your hand. This is what you decide to focus on.

Deep breaths.

The breathing exercises don’t help, and the shaking is getting worse. You feel like crying as the rest of the Old Fashioned floods your mouth, the sweet liquid slipping down your throat as you swallow. The tears are gathering in your eyes again. You try to blink through them but it’s not working, everything is getting blurry and god damn it you’re crying at a bar you’ve never been to before in a city you’ve never seen and this all could’ve been avoided if you’d just flown home, you fucking idiot.

Someone’s sitting down in the empty seat to your right, and embarrassment heats your face. Your instinct tells you to get up and leave but you feel frozen to your seat so instead you just look away, look anywhere but the stranger to your right.

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

You can’t turn around because if you turn around the person will see you crying, and you cannot be seen crying by another stranger today, so you just bite your lip hard and nod, hoping the person will take the hint.

They do not, because who the fuck would ignore someone crying in a bar? Someone who looks remarkably out of place, and desperately in need of a friend?

“Hey, are you alright?” They ask again.

You hiccup, then laugh self-consciously. You turn to the stranger, a tall - wow, a remarkably tall man. He’s broad and, well, really, he’s built like a fridge. He’s huge. He towers over you so greatly that for a minute you think maybe you’re hallucinating, but the sad look of concern he’s giving you tells you that no, he’s real. “Do I look okay?” You ask.

He offers a sad smile. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

You laugh again. “Thanks.” You sniffle. “You’re the second random person to see me crying today, so. Congratulations.”

“I feel like maybe that’s not something I should be celebrating.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

He’s looking at you like you’re fragile, like you’re going to break, and it’s killing you, but he is company, and that’s what you need right now. You smile at him weakly. “Is this the part where I buy you a drink to apologize?”

That brings a smile to his face. He laughs, a low sound that you know comes from deep in his stomach, and the air feels a little lighter. “No, absolutely not. If anything, I’m buying you a drink.”

“God, no.” You exhale, and smiling comes a little easier. “I can barely hold the glass.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Probably.”

And here is the awkward pause. The pause where you debate whether or not he’s gonna continue talking to you. Are you worth his time? You can see in his face that he’s considering something - probably which excuse he’s gonna use to go back to his friends.

Surprisingly, he fills the silence. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re new here, right?”

You nod. “I’m actually from New York.”

He actually laughs again at this. “Don’t take this wrong, but I can tell.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you laugh.

“No no no no no, it’s not a bad thing, I swear!”

“Okay, saying ‘I can tell you’re from New York’ is always a bad thing, you can’t just - “

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

You furrow your brows at him, smiling. “What’d you mean then, huh?”

“I just mean...you have that vibe, you know?”

A laugh bubbles up from your throat. “No! What’s that supposed to mean?”

He’s laughing too, both of you facing each other. “You’re confident. You know what you’re doing.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, unbelieving. “I’ve known you for all of, like, five minutes. In fact, I don’t even know you!”

“Oh, shit, I’m so rude, I’m sorry.” He extends a hand. “Colton Parayko.”

You take his hand, and as you do, you look him in the eyes.

For a moment, everything stops.

There’s something meaningful about the way he’s looking at you. Something important that you can’t quite put your finger on. He is, for a moment, seeing you. The music has paused; the bartender has frozen; the woman to your left has stopped talking. All that is, is your hand in his, the tender way he’s holding your hands, like he is rooting you in this moment.

And then you shake his hand. And you say, “Y/N L/N.” And you pretend that didn’t just happen, that you’re not still looking him dead in the eyes because you’re scared to look away.

When your hands part, you can’t help noticing that yours feels empty, cold.

You spend another two hours talking to him. He is easy to talk to, really; he has a comfortable presence. By the end of the night you are facing each other in your seats, your knees touching. You’re leaning forward when you talk, and he’s got one arm on the bar, the other one gesturing wildly.

Conversation flows like a river between you two. You talk about New York; he’s been there once or twice, he says.

“Oh, really? For what, a frat trip?”

He laughs. “No, for hockey.”

“Did you play in college?”

This is the funniest joke he’s ever heard, apparently, because it absolutely sends him. “No, no.”

“What did I say?” You ask. You’re confused, you thought it was a pretty normal question.

He looks away from you, and then makes eye contact again, you’re having another moment. “I like you,” he says, smiling.

You’re even more confused now. “I mean - thank you. I like you too, but what’s so funny?”

He clears his throat and looks down at the bar. “I play hockey for St. Louis.”

You aren’t in the middle of drinking anything, but this makes you choke. A strangled noise comes from your throat as you slap a hand over your mouth. He grins at you.

You remove your hand slowly. “Like. The city.”

“Yeah.” He’s almost bashful about it.

“Wait. Wait wait wait wait. Wait. Hold on just a fucking second.”

“Okay - “

“I’ve been sitting here. Bitching to you about my life. For hours. And you couldn’t find the time to tell me you play for the fucking National Hockey League?”

He giggles, and the sound almost seems unnatural coming from someone his size. “That’s...about it, yeah.”

“Oh, I am such a dick!” You exclaim.

“What? No, no -”

“I spent this whole time talking about myself!” You huff, closing your eyes. “I am so sorry.”

He puts his hand on your hand, and your eyes shoot open. Every time he’s touched you tonight, every passing contact, you feel warm, and the butterflies in your stomach start to act up. You can feel your heart rate quicken as he says, “Don’t be sorry. You definitely needed it.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

There’s another pause in the conversation, but this time you’re the one debating. You like him - a lot. He’s so warm, and kind, and sweet, and you can tell he’s being genuine, that he’s not just being polite, but you don’t want him to think you’re desperate. You’re not. You just like him. A lot.

You speak up at the same time he does.

“So - “

“Can I - “

“Oh,” you laugh. “You go first.”

“No, no, ladies first,” he responds, gesturing to you. “The floor is yours, Ms. L/N.”

“Um, well.” Suddenly you feel embarrassed. “I kind of made tonight all about myself, and I think maybe I owe you, now.”

He looks surprised, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, you do, kind of.”

“Okay,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “So. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be in town, but...maybe we can do this again, sometime?”

There’s something about the way he grins at you that lights up your heart, because your pulse is rapid as he says, “I think we can work something out.”

You trade phone numbers. He offers to walk you back to your hotel, but you decline - you did just meet him tonight. If this were New York, it’d be different, you’d invite him in for wine and maybe more, but this isn’t New York. Plus, part of you is just so tired. For the first time in what feels like years, you actually want to go to bed.

The night air is warm, and on the way back to the hotel room, all you can think about is the way his hand felt on yours.

When you reach your room, you slip your clothes off and get in the shower. You hadn’t realized how tight your back was earlier - the knots in your upper back are causing aches in your lower back. The hot water loosens the tension, and you can finally relax.

As you’re toweling off from your shower, your phone buzzes.

colton parayko

So, is it weird to ask if you’re free tomorrow?

Maybe being alone in St. Louis isn’t that bad after all.

And hey -

You’re not really alone, are you?

#the bird and her cage #chapter one: litany in which certain things are crossed out #colton parayko #colton parayko x reader #tbahc one

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shyanlibrary · 4 years

Note

hello!!! what are your favorite fics??

Nonnie, what a question...

Let’s keep it short, top 10 under the cut:

1. The Chain by Lafayette1777

Rated: Not Rated (T) | Chapters: 6/6 | Complete | Word Count: 14,073

Summary: Do you not know how love works?

Shane and Ryan, in transition.

Commentary: Christ almighty, this will forever be my favorite fanfic in the entire world and I mean it. I’m someone who has been in many fandoms for more than 15 years now and let me tell you something, I have never felt so much as I have with this story. Because it’s just so incredible well written and the characters are just what drives everything in it! The imagery, the feeling of it, each dialogue, all of this fic is wonderful and I’m in love with it. PLEASE read it if you haven’t.

2. can’t take you home to mother (that’s what i like about it) by redmaynes

Rated: E | Chapters: 7/8 | Ongoing | Word Count: 20428

Summary: “I still hate you, you know that?” Ryan gasped out after they finally broke for air, and he roughly shoved Shane back on the mattress to make quick work of the button of his jeans, and smirked when he heard Shane curse under his breath when he pulled down the zipper slowly, agonizingly.

“The feeling’s mutual, baby,” Shane said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t call me baby.”

Commentary: Fun fact: this was the first fic I read, and I did because I wanted to read smut and I was looking forward to know how this fandom expressed that kind of intimacy between these two, and I was hit by one of the most interesting scenarios put together for this kind of AU, good plot and great characterization. I adore this fic, I’ll go to hell and back for this fic. It’s wonderful and.. how to explain it? Just plain ol’ good, man.

3. Perfect Fit by moliuoli

Rated: E | One-shot | Complete | Word Count: Unkown

Summary: There’s a legend that says anyone able to take all of statue Shane’s cock will summon the god to the mortal realm. Given the statue’s excessive size, no one has ever succeeded to prove or disprove the story.Until Ryan that is.

Commentary: When it comes to original AUs and situations, this fandom never disappoints. Look at this fic in particular, it’s a fun exploration of college life and loneliness in the most freakin’ horny way and that’s why I loooove it and re-read it pretty often. My favorite from the author, too, and she’s a writer I really like. This fic is work of art, a classic in the fandom, just incredible.

4. Let the Sunshine Burn Your Eyes by YogurtTime

Rated: E | One-shot | Complete | Word Count: 6,577

Summary: An innocent man of taste and leisure, Ricky Goldsworth, just wants to check into his hotel room, but gets into an altercation with the concierge while a mysterious gentleman in expensive-looking clothes watches nearby.

Commentary: The only RG persona fic I like! I’m not ashamed to say I’ve read this fic more times than I have sat down to actually write something in years, lmao. Okay, so-- this masterpiece always puts me in a mood, in that mood that makes you grab a glass of wine, sip, stare into nothing and say “oh my”. I LOVE IT. I know I’m saying this about all fics in this list but lololol, it’s true. The writing in this is magical and transports you to another world, to the world the author wants you to see in this text and it makes you wonder everything about these characters and smile at the end. This, also-- has my favorite ending in a fic like this. Just. Oh my.

5. I would like that by Crimsonflowerz

Rated: T | One-shot | Complete | Word Count: 3,994

Summary: The third person who knew Ryan was trans was the ghost that haunted his apartment.

Commentary: This fic, oh-- I think about this fic and Shane in this fic a lot, actually. I always loved his character in this and I loved how much we knew of Ryan, his life and his feelings in it, because it let us wonder with him about Shane and his spirit, his life before being a ghost, and well-- you have to read to understand, this is one of the best fics in the fandom and it has one of the happiest and most hopeful endings and boy oh boy, am I a lover of happy ending. Read this beauty, I re-read it recently because my main fandom and its company broke my heart and my spirit last December, and this was the only thing that got me to stop crying over the way I was mocked by the male white creators of said main fandom. Life saving story.

6. ready if it happens with you by sarcasticfishes

Rated: E | One-shot | Complete | Word Count:4,319

Summary: It’s not a thing. Ryan’s just a little… touch-starved. Intimacy-starved.

Shane passes behind him when he’s sitting at his desk, idly touches Ryan’s shoulder, thumb brushing the curve of his neck — and goosebumps erupt down the length of Ryan’s arms.

Commentary: A beauty! I said to the author, who is a good friend, that I was really honored this fic has my name as one of the persons it was dedicated to, because my man believe me when I say this is a fucking beauty and it’s one of my favorite smuts and getting together fics in the fandom. I’ve thought of that scene in the dark so many times, of the way it’s written and described, and every and each action is driven by pure feelings and it’s just so gorgeous. You gotta read it.

7. You Are on the Fastest Available Route by InkStainsOnMyHands

Rated: T | One-shot | Complete | Word Count: 2,362

Summary: "It’s in the light.“

[Based on the Local 58 YouTube Series]

Commentary: The night I read this fic, I couldn’t sleep. It made me feel uneasy, made me think of it for days, and I still think of it. Often find myself wanting to re-read it and I wish I could live again that first moment when I read it. Once, when I was in a meeting, I filled a page of my moleskine with the summary of this fic, and kept thinking of Ryan hudding Shane as the light came, of him looking up, of the road in front of them, the hints that something was amiss. What a genius story.

8. We Went To An Orgy And We Didn’t Have Sex (well…kind of…) by iris_rise

Rated: Not Rated (M) | Chapters: 4/? | Abandoned | Word Count: 11,045

Summary: They met at a bar that afternoon before filming started. Liquid courage, Ryan had called it. “Or a surefire way to a pair o’ whiskey dicks,” Shane quipped back, giving him a playful smile, and Ryan knew he was totally screwed.ORShane and Ryan agree to film a one-off Buzzfeed documentary-type show, ‘We Went To An Orgy and We Didn’t Have Sex’, in which they attend a sex party and try to keep their hands off one another.

Commentary: I know what you guys are thinking about the title of this, but believe me when I say this fic is WONDERFUL. It’s such a gorgeous work with so much soul, and I would never really be reccing an unfinished work that is likely abandoned by now if it wasn’t THAT good. Soooo, let me tell you about the atmosphere this have, it has such a powerful spirit, it makes me cry that I will likely not know how it would have gone. Mother of GOD, this is perfect. Also one of my favorite interpretations of dom!Shane.

9. we are breathing river water by undeadapocalypse

Rated: M | One-shot | Complete | Word Count: 4,503

Summary: Shane thought, through the kisses and the feeling of Ryan’s skin all over his, too much but not enough, I will not.

Between the light ending up off and the clumsy hands in a dark room, the floorboards that hide secrets despite not being theirs, he thought to himself, I will not fall in love with him.

The tabernacle reconstructed.He falls in love with him.or: a fic based off of “litany in which certain things are crossed out”

Commentary: Richard Siken is my favorite poet out there and when I found this fic and saw it was based on my favorite poem, I almost died right there. And to my delight, it was an excellent fic and even now, many reads later, it’s still an amazing fic with a beautiful ending that haunts me in the best of ways. Every part of this fic, the images of it, the parts were you can feel the poem in it, all of it, I love it with all my heart. Read it. It’s beautiful.

10. I live alone in a paradise (that makes me think of two) by Ros_ora_sal

Rated: Not Rated (T) | Chapters: 4/4 | Complete | Word Count: 26,971

Summary: Ryan and Shane get stuck in a haunted house together.

Commentary: Oh, this fic. Oh this fic and its brutal plot filled with mystery, hope and even a few scares. Man, do I love this fic. Something I adore of this fandom is its more dark or weird stories, and this one hit me in the face with how good it was, really a gorgeous addition to our fandom. The story and the way its written has stayed with me ever since I read it, and I promise you it will stay with you too.

#shyan #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unclean #shyan fic #answered #recs #rec list #multiple #au #oneshots #multichapter #personal favorites #personal recs #on ao3 #Anonymous

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isauntervaguelydownwards · 4 years

Text

Speak ‘Husband’ and Marry

Simon and his foster sisters are aghast when their foster father tells them they shall marry to further his agenda

or: Simon isn't really certain where the dog comes into the whole thing, but it's probably his fault

Fill for COC2019 day 20 prompt: Fairytale retelling

The original tale is called “The Lame Dog”.

I never really dared to dream about being adopted, mostly because if I ever let myself entertain the thought I’d start hoping. I’d seen too many kids brought low - and lower still - when they hoped to no use.

Maybe that’s why I was adopted - Mage, like my adoptive ‘father’ wanted to be called, did specialise in the hopeless cases, or so I’ve been told. The two adoptive sisters, Agatha and Penelope, didn’t seem hopeless to me, but I barely know what I don’t know.

A couple of years on, it seemed likely that Mage’s ‘hopeless’ cases were rather just magic, not that I would’ve known that at the time. I’d like to think I’d know it now, but that might just be me flattering myself.

As time passed, my understanding of magic grew ever so slightly, while my grasp of using it declined, if that was even possible. Something that did grow remarkably was how comfortable me and my sisters were together. Penelope ‘call me Penny or I’ll kill you’ felt like I’d known her my entire life, and nothing was more soothing than Agatha’s no-nonsense mindset at times of upheaval.

Upheaval that loomed on the horizon, and had sent us all into a bad mood of epic proportions.

None of us was very happy when the Mage informed us that we’d need to marry, in order to - as he said - further the advancement of the World of Mages.

“There’s got to be something we can do? Protest somehow?” I said, staring unseeingly up at the domed ceiling of Penny’s room. There was an answering snort from the end of Penny’s bed, where she was sprawled out on her stomach.

“No. There’s nothing. He’s our Guardian, and in matters like this his word is law,” Agatha said, and for the first time her pragmatism, usually so comforting to me, rubbed me the wrong way.

“What then? Roll over and accept the situation?” I sat up, looking at both Agatha and Penny, the two of them looking as woeful as I felt. Woeful wasn’t a word I’d ever associated with any of us before, but in this case, I felt like it fit.

“We could… no, that’s a dumb idea, isn’t it?” Penny said, looking more at Agatha than me. I had a feeling this was magic talk, and I wouldn’t exactly be of any help.

“I’m not a mind reader, Penelope,” Agatha snapped, the only sign she wasn’t happy with the way this was going either.

“What if we Spoke them? The ones that will be courting us?”

“You’re right, that is a dumb idea.”

“It could work, though - we’d be involved with the decision, at least, more than we’re being now.”

“Things can go so wrong, Penelope.”

I was swivelling my head back and forth, watching the verbal tennis match going on in front of me. I was hopelessly lost, and decided to tell them as much.

“I’m hopelessly lost, guys. What are you suggesting, Penny, and what’s so dangerous about it, Agatha?” I said, the questions doing nothing to diffuse the tension in the room. Agatha was outright glaring at Penny, something I hadn’t ever seen her do before.

“Penelope is suggesting - and I cannot believe the thought ever crossed her mind! - she’s suggesting we Speak our suitors into existence, so we can decide who will be courting us,” Agatha replied. Penny huffed and crossed her arms, glaring back at Agatha.

“Well, I don’t hear any better ideas from you, now do I?” Penny said, before turning to me. “If we do this, we can decide what they’ll look like, what they’ll be like, and it won’t just be whoever the Mage decides will be the best fit to further his own agenda!”

“Can we… do that?” I said, hesitant to believe them and even more hesitant to do it, even if it could work. My grasp of magic was far from the best, and it looked like it’d never improve, either. Speaking someone into existence, that wasn’t exactly an easy task.

“...theoretically, yes,” Agatha admitted, after a long pause. “It’s possible, but there are so many things that can go wrong, is the thing. There’s no guarantee whatever suitor we Speak of is even human!”

“No, but we’d have a choice, Agatha! Maybe he won’t be a human, but I’ll have chosen him, at least. What would we be forced to marry for the advancement of the World? A man thrice our age, forced to bear him children? No, not me. I will Speak my suitor into existence, may the consequences be what they will.” Penny’s words rang with magic, and whether she did it inadvertently or not, she’d turned the words into a Vow - even my limited knowledge of magic was enough to know it wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

Agatha near deflated, the fight leaving her almost visible as it fled. I realised I was holding my breath, waiting for what the fallout of this would be.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Agatha said, looking wide-eyed at Penny. “That’s - it could kill you, that vow.”

“It wasn’t actually meant to be a vow, Agatha, but - well, this way I have to do it, and I think it’s worth it.” Penny didn’t look very happy about it, but she did seem more at peace with this than she’d done with the idea of marrying whoever the Mage picked.

“I can see one issue, at least, with this idea,” I said, and both Penny and Agatha swivelled around to look at me. I could see it dawning on them, too. “I can’t - I don’t have the control to Speak someone into existence, even if I have the magic to do it.”

“I didn’t consider you,” Penny whispered, hands over her mouth. Agatha looked just as terrified. “Oh, Simon, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I forgot…”

“Penny. Penny!” I managed to break into her monologue, ending the litany of apologies. “It’s fine, I can take it - you have to Speak someone into existence, Penny, you made a vow!”

Penny threw herself at me, sobbing into my shoulder. Agatha had turned her back to us and buried her head in her hands, long blonde hair falling forwards to form a curtain around her.

I was startled from my comforting of Penny when Agatha, for the first time since I got to know her, shouted. It was a jubilant sound, not unlike what you’d hear at a football game, and it was so wildly out of place and out of character for Agatha, both me and Penny were pulled from our thoughts.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got a solution!” Agatha was more boisterous than I’d ever seen her, coming over and throwing her arms around both me and Penny, almost vibrating in her excitement. She collapsed against us, laughing breathlessly. “For once, Penny, I did the solving!”

“Won’t you tell us what you figured out then, Agatha?” Penny managed to get out, words muffled where she was pressed against my shoulder. I was pretty certain I felt my ribs creaking from the force of Agatha’s hug.

“I know that mages who get along well and trust one another can share focus and power!” Agatha pulled her head back, grinning wildly at me and Penny. “I trust you both! Simon’s got the power needed for this! If we do a Circle, we can pull this off!”

I could see it slowly dawning on Penny, what this meant, and by the light in her eyes, it was something good. I had no idea.

“I have no idea what that means, but if you both think it’ll work, I trust you and will do whatever you tell me to do,” I said, once I’d managed to draw enough of a breath to speak again.

It took quite a lot of studying - all of it done under the cover of night since none of us wanted to alert the Mage to what we were doing - before Penny and Agatha both felt we were ready to do the Circle.

The Mage was going away for a few days, and we decided that was when we had the best opportunity to do it. We waved goodbye to the Mage - like the good children he asked us to be - and as soon as he was gone, we went up to Agatha’s room. The only reason, they’d told me, we were using Agatha’s room was that it had the largest amount of free floor space. Privately, I thought it was because Penny didn’t feel like cleaning hers, and no one really trusts anything of mine - for good reason, probably.

While Agatha and Penny drew the chalk circle, which was supposed to ease the sharing of concentration and power, they did trust me to light the candles. Not to place them out, which was for the best, but I was allowed to light them. Once I’d done that, I was supposed to sit down on a chair and not move, not talk, and not do anything at all. It felt safer that way, so I didn’t even take offence at it.

“Okay, so what we’re going to do is this: we’ll sit down in the chalk circle, hold hands, and while one of us is talking, the other two must focus their entire being on whoever’s Speaking.” Agatha looked at me and Penny, face drawn and serious. We were all tired, exhausted after the time we’d spent researching this Circle, but it felt good that no matter the outcome, after tonight we’d have done what we could, at least. “Is everything clear? Everyone ready?”

Penny gulped before nodding gravely. They both turned to me, looking seriously at me. I probably didn’t realise quite how serious this was, how many things could go so very wrong, but just to be certain, I took a moment to think about it. Nope, not a single clue. I nodded to Agatha, as gravely as Penny just had.

“One last thing you must remember; we have to be honest about what we want in a partner, otherwise this is unlikely to work,” Penny said, looking more at Agatha than at me - which was probably a good thing, considering I must’ve looked like someone just pulled the carpet out from under me. Oh, fuck.

They took their places, kneeling within the circle and clasping hands, heads bowed. Agatha, first adopted, first to be married, went first; hers were the first suitor who would arrive.

“When I marry, may my husband be fair in visage and mind; may he love me and let me be me, as our life begins, goes on, and ends.” There was a flash, and I felt as if a trickle of something ran down my spine. Penny took a deep breath, tightening her hand around mine.

“When I marry, may my husband be even in looks and temperament; may he be kind and full of light, as our life begins, goes on, and ends.” Again there was a flash and the trickle running down my spine, and with a start, I realised it was my turn.

“When I marry, may my husband be dark of hair and light of heart,�� I began, both Agatha’s and Penny’s hands tightening on mine when they realised what I’d said. “May he be happy and make me happy, as our life begins, goes on, and ends.” Again, the flash, but no trickle.

Agatha and Penny releasing my hands and standing up brought me out of my thoughts, and for a long moment, I didn’t dare look up at them. Once I did, it was to see their rather shocked faces. As usual, I took to humour to diffuse the situation.

“With my luck, I’ll have a lame dog for husband.” Maybe it was because Penny and Agatha had left the circle already, but they didn’t seem to feel the same trickle I felt. This time, the trickle running down my spine brought with it a sense of terrible foreboding.

I did have some explaining to do, after that Circle. Apparently, it’s bad magic manners to not tell the people you’re going through a ritual with about the bombshells you’re going to drop during the ritual before you actually do go through with it.

We had our proof rather soon that the ritual had worked, when Agatha’s husband-to-be came to visit. He was tall and almost as blond as Agatha herself and treated everyone - people, animals, anything he came across - fairly.

When they were wed, they omitted the traditional ‘honour and obey’ from the vows, and instead, he promised to love her as she deserved to be loved, and promised to always let her choose her own way.

The slight foreboding feeling I had gotten after I Spoke my suitor into existence grew, and couldn’t be called slight in any way anymore.

When Penny’s suitor arrived, the foreboding turned into terror and I more or less resigned myself to what the future most likely had in store for me. Her husband-to-be was even in looks - he had a face symmetrical enough you could’ve summoned a demon on it - and seemed like the kind of person it would take a lot to anger. He was also unfailingly kind, and I couldn’t have been happier for Penny.

Next suitor to arrive was, of course, mine. I’m not entirely sure how the Mage reasoned this through since these arranged marriages were supposed to take place to further the World of Mages, and I had no idea how a lame dog could in any way do that, but that was my suitor.

Just like I had Spoken, my suitor was a lame dog - fur like the blackest night, and when the dog spoke, because this was a magic dog and of course he could speak, he did so happily.

If I cried after the ceremony, well, I couldn’t help but feel that I was justified in it. Because of a silly joke, said to lighten the tension, I had married a dog.

How was this my life?

When Agatha set off with her husband, heading for their new dwelling, it was with a wonderful entourage who all seemed to love her. I wouldn’t let myself feel jealous about it, nor did I let myself resent Penny when her new husband whisked her away in a cloud of magic that almost smelled of love.

My new husband and I, we set out on foot - he was, as I’ve already mentioned, a dog, and lame to boot, so it was almost a given. It seemed a very odd dream, all of it. More so still when we, after walking a while, suddenly came to the edge of a forest. As far as I knew there weren’t any forests for miles around, and we hadn’t walked far enough to have reached one of them yet. Entering the forest, it took maybe half an hour before we reached a clearing, and there was the biggest house I’d ever seen - far more impressive and imposing than the Mage’s, even.

“Here we are,” the dog said, with the mien of someone that, had he had arms, would have thrown them open to gesture to the entirety of everything in that clearing. I was both awestruck and speechless, and could only gape at the, well, splendour of it. When he realised that I wouldn’t be saying anything for quite some time, he led the way into the house.

“This is… amazing,” was all I could bring myself to say when we came through the door into the entrance hall. The dog somehow exuded smugness - don’t know how I could tell, but that dog was really smug right then.

“You’ll have free run of the house, of course, and you can do whatever you’d like,” the dog said, looking at me. He shifted nervously, claws scraping against the stone floor, before continuing speaking. “There is one small caveat, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask, really…”

I was a bit too apprehensive to say anything to prompt him to continue, visualising all manners of things that would classify as a caveat. I opted to keep quiet, instead raising an eyebrow at him. Well, I tried to raise an eyebrow at him, but as usual, I failed and raised both - I probably looked gobsmacked rather than wondering, but I’ll take what I can get.

“You absolutely mustn’t ever look at me while I am asleep; other than that, you’re free to do whatever your heart desires.” The dog looked seriously at me, awaiting my reply. I felt it was a very reasonable, if very weird, request which in turn - since the dog seemed so worried about my reaction - made me worry all the more.

I agreed, of course - it’s not like it’d be difficult. I was curious, though - what on Earth was so bad about looking at him while he slept?

I had underestimated my own curiosity. At first I was so busy exploring - and loving - my new surroundings I had no problem to not look at him, but then - as I got to know the house, however, it started niggling at me. What could possibly be so bad?

That night, several weeks after I had first arrived, the curiosity got the best of me. After we had retired to our bedrooms, and I heard his door close, I snuck out of bed. It brought to mind the evenings at Watford, evenings spent with Agatha and Penny sneaking around after curfew. Caught in the moment, I had to suppress gleeful giggles.

Crouching down to peer through the keyhole of his door, I had to curse how good he could see in the dark, because what I could see of his room was nothing but pitch black. Gradually my eyes adjusted, and I could just about make out him moving around. Then I saw what I absolutely did not expect; right before he got into bed, he twisted, and suddenly stood on two legs, taller than he would’ve had he just, as a dog, stood on his hind legs.

As he got into the bed, I could’ve sworn he was - human?

I went to bed again, but what I’d seen continued niggling at me, and that night, in particular, I had a very difficult time to sleep. It kept niggling, and in the days that followed, I couldn’t think of much else.

It annoyed me enough that I actually asked to go visit Penny, something my husband readily agreed to. He told me of the portal, hidden in the cellar, that could be used to travel anywhere in the world in almost no time at all. The biggest issue with it was that you couldn’t travel back the same way, but it was a trade-off I had no problems accepting.

“Simon!” Penny shouted, flinging herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I laughed, hugging her back, squeezing her tightly.

“Hello, Penny,” I said after swinging her around. “By Crowley, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed?! I’ve been stuck here - it’s lovely and my husband is amazing but I digress - all without anyone to talk to!”

“Penny. My husband is a dog.” She laughed, twisting on her heel to pull me along, dragging me into the house.

It was as we sat down in one of the reception rooms, the tea masterfully arranging itself on the round table, that we actually got to the main reason for my visit.

“You know how my husband is, at least in looks, a dog?” I said, alternating between looking at my teacup - self-stirring - and meeting Penny’s gaze. She nodded, a mirthful twist around her eyes, look saying did you think I’d forget?. “I saw something, the other night, that made me think, and wonder, maybe he’s not actually a dog?”

At Penny’s insistent prompting, not that I needed a lot of encouragement, I laid out the entire story, starting with arriving at the magnificent mansion, ending with seeing my husband changing shapes.

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing!” she exclaimed, not saying anything more before rushing off. When she came back, she was carrying a candlestick. “Here!”

“Thank… you?” I said hesitantly. It looked like a typical arts-and-craft candlestick, more than a bit banged up too.

“It’s a Revealer,” Penny laughed. “If you light it, it’ll show all things hidden, whether that’s by choice or by a curse.”

“Well, that sounds exactly like what I need,” I said, seeing the candlestick - the Revealer - in a new light. I put it in my bag, before putting it out of my mind.

I spent several days with Penny, the time span made possible by them also having a portal in the basement. Quite a bit of the time was spent mustering the courage to actually use the Revealer.

When I came back to the house - when I came back home, which it had quite quickly become - it was after a tearful goodbye, and to an empty house. I was quietly thankful for that, actually, since it let me muster some more courage.

The dog came back in the early evening, apologising for not being there when I came home. I was genuinely so jittery I couldn’t speak, instead just smiling at him.

When the time came to head to bed, I lit the Revealer, and in the light of it, the dog twisted, changed, and it looked agonising. He turned into a man, and quite frankly the man was the most beautiful I had ever seen, but as he looked at me he looked despairing.

“What have you done,” he asked, backing out of the light cast by the Revealer. The moment he wasn’t lit up anymore, he twisted back into the limping dog, and he ran away out of the room. I was horrified, of course I was, so I chased after him. I ran after him, all the way out of the house and into the dense forest surrounding it.

I ran for what felt like hours until the stinging of the wounds caused by the whipping branches became too much. I stopped and fell to my knees, sobbing, face buried in my hands.

“What’s all this crying about, then?” a creaky voice asked from behind me, and I yelled in surprise, turning around and falling over in the process. It was, of all things, a toad.

“What - what on Earth, are you talking?” I said to the toad, as if I hadn’t been married to a dog for quite some time.

“Yes, and you’re crying. Why are you crying?” he asked, tone patient, sentences interrupted halfway through by a deep croak.

“I… I was married, and he asked me to not do one thing, one thing only I wasn’t allowed to do…” I said mournfully, shaking my head. “And that’s what I did.”

“Well, if you’ll be my friend and companion, being with me forevermore,” the toad said, a deep reverberating croak echoing through the trees before he continued. “If you do that, I’ll help you solve this.”

“No, no, I have a husband who I love and I will not - I will not say I’ll spend forevermore with you, when I don’t have him here,” I said, standing up and turning my back to the toad. I took a deep breath and left, trying to follow in my husband’s steps, hoping I was going in the right direction. What I did not see or hear was the toad smiling, wishing me good luck.

When I had walked for as long again, I sat down on a large rock to rest my weary feet, and if I wept bitterly, that’s not entirely relevant.

“Why do you weep, Magician?” a deep voice said, and I looked up to meet the eyes of a large wolf. Everything was so weird I’d just accepted everything might as well happen now, up to and including giant wolves talking to me.

“I have lost the husband I love, and I fear I shall never find him or regain his trust again.”

“Let me be your best friend, I’ll show you the way,” the wolf said, tone almost pleading.

“No,” I refused him too, shaking my head. “I have a husband, and his is all the friendship I need.”

Again I stood up, continuing in the same direction I’d been going in. Again, I did not see the wolf smile and wish me good luck before loping off in the opposite direction.

Before too long I came upon a snarling lion, caught in chains.

“Help me, magician,” said the lion. “Help me, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Now, I may not be the brightest bulb, but even I could see that probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I have no need of a lion indebted to me,” I said, knowing I sounded callous but too worried about my husband to actually care. “I have a husband I must find, his forgiveness to beg, and I don’t even know where to start with your chains.”

“Then, loosen my chains, and in return I will not eat you - as a token of my appreciation, and no admittance of debt.” The lion was canny, it seemed, and it did sound like a good idea. I have a hard time not helping people, or animals, in need.

“Fine. Fine,” I said, carefully approaching the lion. He was so weighed down with the chains he couldn’t move, much less attack, and seeing that made me feel a bit safer. Less so when I realised it was the chains I was supposed to help him remove. “You will have to guide me through the releasing, because I don’t know how.”

“It is not difficult; the only reason I have not managed seems to be the lack of opposable thumbs…” he sounded thoughtful, before literally shaking himself out of the thought.

He talked me through getting the chains off of him, and it just goes to show how weird my life had turned out since the wedding that this didn’t even phase me. For every chain I managed to get off of him, he could stand a bit straighter, and he did look not only literally but metaphorically lighter.

Once the last chain was removed, the lion shook out his mane, twisted in place, and in front of me stood a tall, black-haired man.

“Hello, Simon,” he said, and it was the same voice as the dog and, as I belatedly realised, the lion. “My name is Baz, and I’m your husband - if you’ll have me.”

“Wha-?” I said, the surprise too big for me to actually form a coherent sentence - which I did sometimes have issues with even when not shocked beyond comprehension.

“Yeah, I should explain that, maybe,” he - Baz? - said thoughtfully, reaching out to take my hand. He did it so absentmindedly I couldn’t be sure he knew he’d done it. “I was cursed, some years ago, to be the lame dog you married. I was never to tell anyone of my plight, never show anyone, or the consequences would be damning. Against all I’d been told, I married you - I felt called to do so, even if I felt it very unfair to inflict a dog on anyone.”

He shrugged, looking at me from under his lashes. I could only look at him in continued shock.

“You have declared your love for me three times in these woods, have been kind to all you’ve met but held me as your foremost priority… and then you, despite not getting anything for it, helped a ‘lion’ out of his chains,” he continued, look away from me. His thumb started stroking the back of my hand, and I’d never been so hyperaware of my own hand in my life. “You have loved me, despite being a lame dog, and for that, the curse was lifted.”

I still only stared at him. He looked like he was waiting for a reply, but I honestly couldn’t speak, so I only squeezed his hand. It was enough, apparently, because he kept on talking.

“I have no right to ask this of you, when you married me on false grounds, but - if you wanted, nothing would please me more than you coming with me back home, and we could resume our married life, and - cliché as it sounds - attempt to live happily ever after. What do you say?”

What did I say? Well, there was only one thing I could say, and that is what I did say.

“Baz? Shut up and kiss me.”

#coc 2019 #snowbaz #carry on #carry on fanfiction #carry on countdown #carry on countdown 2019 #type: text #my writing #mine #fanfiction

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slutforgoodliterature · 5 years

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Mischief Managed (barely)

Prompt: You and your boyfriend Bucky are sick of all the team meetings Steve keeps dragging you into. He finds a fun way to pass the time, and you are at the brunt of said fun.

Warnings: vaginal fingering, public

“I refuse to believe Steve has called yet another team meeting.” You grumble. Bucky shakes his head at you, completely exasperated as well.

“I know, Y/N, but we gotta go. Can’t let Cap down.” He sends you a small smile, reaching out a hand for you to grab so he can pull you off the bed, where you currently are curled up in a heap. “I mean if we don’t turn up, who is?” He tacks on, and you have to agree with him.

As much as you love Steve, the guy can be a bit overbearing.

Sighing, you allow your boyfriend to drag you off the bed. “Fine,” you huff, “but I want to make it clear I am going against my will.” He smirks at you and swiftly tickles the skin of your stomach that appears as you are pulling on a jumper. His jumper, to be exact.

Squealing, you grab his hand before yanking it behind his arm, twisting him into submission.

“Ok, ok! No more tickling.” He chuckles, and you shove him hard as you let go just so he gets the message.

“Try it again, and you’re sleeping on the floor, Barnes.” You warn him.

Tickles are not a game.

As you exit your room, he has to rotate his metal arm in his shoulder socket to put it back into place, and you feel a little guilty.

“Jeez, you really did a number on me in there, didn’t ya, doll?” He jokes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough. I just hate tickling, you know that.” You apologise, gripping his hand tightly. He squeezes back.

“I also know you like it rough, so no need to apologise, princess.” He murmurs back, his head ducked into your ear, and you blush hard.

“Pipe down, soldier. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of all your friends.” You mumble back, but warmth is already pooling in your lower stomach.

“Mm, you’re right. We really wouldn’t want that.” He hums, but you can see there’s a mischevious glint in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh. I know that look.” You poke his chest playfully. “What are you up to?” You demand, drawing him to a stop just outside the door to the conference room, where all your fellow Avengers are waiting.

He simply raises an eyebrow, looking at you innocently. “No idea what you’re on about, dollface.”

You don’t believe him, not one bit, but you allow him to lead you into the room anyway.

You definitely should’ve known better.

“Bucky, Y/N. Glad to see you two could make it.” Steve nods at you both as you take seats at the far end of the table, next to Nat and across from Bruce and Sam, who has his feet propped up on the table and a hat tilted over his face. He is definitely asleep.

Bucky sends his chair a kick from under the table, causing him to jerk awake with a yelp.

“Who did that?” He demands, scouring the room until he catches Bucky’s barely concealed snicker.

“Watch it, Tin Man.” Sam threatens, to which Bucky rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest menacingly, but you couldn’t help admire the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his pecs.

Did it get hotter in here, or is that just you?

“Or what, Big Bird?”

Sam opens his mouth to retort but Steve butts in, shutting it down.

“Enough, you two!” He massages the bridge of his nose, looking every bit the tired mother he is. “If I wanted to babysit, I would’ve invited Queens.” Both Sam and Bucky shoot each other a final look before Bucky shifts his chair closer to you, facing away from Sam.

“God, you’re gonna give the poor guy an aneurysm.” You whisper to Bucky, the two of you laughing quietly to each other as you watch Steve attempt to use the complicated technology of Stark Tower.

“Either that or his pen is gonna snap.” Bucky points out the tight grip Steve has on a pen, that really does look like it’s in imminent danger, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Barnes. Y/L/N. Shut up.” Tony’s voice rings out, sending you two a half-hearted glare.

“Sorry, dad.” You smile back, ignoring Steves exasperated sigh.

“Moving on...” He stresses, gesturing back to the blueprints of some Hydra facility you were planning on breaking into.

You try to zone in, you really do, but all of a sudden Bucky’s hand is sliding up your thigh and omg is he serious right now?!

“Bucky!” You whisper hiss at him, gripping his metal wrist with your hand. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“More like who.” He smirks as he whispers to you under his breath. He captures your intense gaze as his arm continues his way up your leg, the inhuman strength of his metal arm no match for you.

And let’s be honest, you aren’t exactly trying all that hard to stop him.

“Eyes front, Barnes.” Steve orders, tearing Bucky’s gaze away from your flushed cheeks.

“Sir, yes sir.” He sends a mock salute to Steve, who rolls his eyes at his best friend.

“Y/N, you all good down there?” Wanda asks, ever concerned. You’re about to tell her that yes, you are just dandy, when Bucky's hand cups your core. You suck in a harsh breath and have to stop yourself from nearly jumping out of your seat.

“She’s fine, just ate some bad prawns at lunch,” Bucky reassures Wanda, who is stilling looking for you to reassure her. You nod at her, sending her a thankful smile, which finally puts her at ease and draws attention away from you and your conniving boyfriend.

“Prawns?” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as his hand slowly rubs you through your gym leggings, which are very thin, mind you.

“Shh,” he shushes you, “only you and I know that it wasn’t prawns you had in your mouth at lunch.” He smirks evilly at you before applying more pressure to his wandering hand.

A hell of a lot more pressure. Holy fuckkkk...

“You...you...sonuvabitch.” You swear under your breath, and all of a sudden you notice your hand is no longer pushing him away, but gripping his wrist tightly; pulling him closer.

“Language, Cap might hear you.” He looks casually back up to Steve, who hasn’t noticed a damn thing. Neither has the rest of the table, for which you thank your lucky stars. “I’m sure he wouldn’t like to hear those words come out of such a pretty mouth. But I guess that mouth of yours can also-”

“Oh shut up, Barnes.” You groan, your eyes fluttering closed as his fingers begin paying special attention to a certain bundle of nerves.

“You havin’ fun, princess?” His breath fans across your face. “You like having me touch you like that?”

“Bucky, I swear to god...” You curse, bringing everybody’s eyes back on you two.

“Woah, Y/N, you really don’t look well,” Bruce says in a worried tone. Murmurs of agreement sound throughout the whole room.

“You’re right, I am feeling kinda ill...” You agree, fanning your face for effect. Bucky rolls his eyes, which you catch out of the corner of your eye, and increases the speed and pressure of his fingers, making your eyes bulge. “I think I should go-”

The knot in the pit of your stomach is building steadily, and you can feel an intense orgasm rushing towards you.

“Can you just wait two more minutes, Y/N?” Tony asks, annoyed that you have yet again interrupted the meeting. “We’re almost done here. Unless you’re gonna spew of course, then, by all means, take it outside. I do not want you ruining my carpet.”

“She’ll be fine. You can hold on a couple more minutes, can’t you, babe?” Bucky replies before you have the chance to, challenging you with his eyes.

Always a sucker for a challenge, you find yourself nodding.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be fine.” You assure everyone, gesturing to Tony and Steve to continue with the plans.

“Brilliant. So after Wanda and Vision intercept group C here...” Steves' voice trails off in your head as you are completely consumed by the sensations Bucky is causing you at the moment.

“Fuck...Bucky, baby, I don’t know how much longer...” your breath is now coming out in harsh pants, your almost legs trembling with pleasure. His fingers continue working you, circling and tapping and overall just driving you absolutely insane.

“You’re loving this, aren’t ya, doll? My filthy girl.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, how he loves that he can dissolve you into a panting, trembling mess with just his fingers. “I’m gonna make you cum, and I haven’t even touched you yet, not really.”

He began to push his fingers into your clit, hard, and keep them circling there. You let out a litany of swears under your breath. “So close, James. Fuck...”

“Come on, princess. Let go. Cum for me in front of everyone.” His gruff voice sends you over the edge.

As your orgasm crashes through you, you have to bite down on your knuckles to contain your moans. Bucky’s fingers continue their torturous pressure, rising you through the throes of pleasure until your body is twitching and your other hand scrabbles at his, attempting to push it away from you.

“Jeez, what’s up with you, girly?” Sam asks, concerned, and you open your eyes to realise that everyone is staring at you and Bucky. You face is completely flushed and his hand is not-so-inconspicuously placed between your legs.

Bucky seems to have also forgotten your audience, as his eyes slowly focus, coming out of a daze. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead and removes his hand, gripping your thigh softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“Sorry, I just thought tickling her would make her feel better.” He covers smoothly, and squeezes your thigh, making your knee jump and hit the table as you let out a yelp. “Who would’ve thought she hates tickles that much, eh?” He smiles innocently at everyone, who seems to buy his lie with rolled eyes and snickers.

“Well, we’re finished here, did you get all that?” Steve addresses everyone and receives a few ‘yes sirs’ here and there along with a couple of thumbs up.

“We’re finished here as well, aren’t we, dollface?” Bucky whispers to you, drawing a tired smile from you.

“Just you wait, Barnes. Karma’s a bitch.” You pat him playfully on the cheek before sashaying out of the room, feeling his eyes burn into you as you swayed your hips teasingly.

You couldn’t wait to get him back for that.

#Smut #avengers #avengerssmut #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader

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thephancast-blog · 6 years

Text

The PhanCast - Episode 4: Collabs

Length: 01:38:17

Listen on SoundCloud | Listen on iTunes | Listen on Stitcher | RSS

Hosts:

Jane: @agingphangirl | Twitter | Ao3

Julia: @ineverhadmyinternetphase | Twitter | Ao3

Charlotte: @charlottekath | Twitter

Send us art | Send us an ask | Send us an email

In this episode we are all sleep deprived in our den talking about collaborating, Dan & Phil, and as usual many things off topic.

Show Notes under the cut

Questions from listeners

We answered some questions in our minisode, click here to listen to that one first

“Hey guys! I love that phancast! I love to re-listen to your videos while I’m at work to get through the day. I was wondering if you guys had any ideas or thoughts on what DnP will do in the future (youtube related). After watching dans live show about how he isn’t really concerned with videos and how he views himself as a creator and not a “youtuber” and what this means for them. I feel phil will go back to his usual but I am unsure what is going on haha there isn’t much “content” besides gaming”

As we answered something similar in the minisode, we talk about projects we’d like to see from D&P including a podcast, some other projects, and a tell-all book

“I can’t remember who said it but I bet you are so happy that II is on dvd!! I am excited for it to be a physical copy too!”

Jane was very happy about a DVD and has ordered too many copies.

Quick logistics question from us to you: If we uploaded these podcasts to YouTube, would that be something you’d be interested in? Is that a better way for you to listen or do the current hosting platforms work?

Previously on Dan and Phil

Things we talked about:

Dan’s merch for Young Minds

The Mukbang

The Driving Video

Spooky Week

We also got off-topic and discuss:

PJ’s Space Trip Tour

Driving lessons in the UK

Recent Live Shows

Fantastic Adventures - Dean & Bertie’s podcast

Kaleidotrope - The best queer rom com podcast ever!

and much much more

Monthly Topic: Collabs

Things we talked about:

Why we don’t think Dan and Phil appearing together is considered a ‘collab’ anymore

What makes a good collab? What are our favourites?

What are some collabs that don’t work in our opinion?

What makes a good spon/bad spon and our favourites?

What collabs would we like to see?

Our (and your) favourite fan-run collaborative projects

Links to things we mentioned:

Here is a link to a playlist with some of the collab videos we mentioned

@phandomficfests (word war chats are posted here too)

InDepthBants forum

@phandomgives @fandomtrumpshate

Phandom get out the vote giveaway

Updatedphan, phanoutfits, meetingphan

@phandombigbang @phandomreversebang

Honorary mention to @waveydnp @psychicmoth and @alittledizzy for making the printed version of A Match and a Fuse available to purchase.

To correct an error in this episode: The bead art Dan made is a pokemon (Jane is just old and didn’t recognise it) it’s a Rapidash, and in the sculpting video with Charlie they do make a unicorn!

Fanfiction

Julia: Warm fuzzies

Bacon and Aches - @thespianhowell

The pull (to you) - basicallymonsters

Don’t trust a song that’s flawless - @leblonde

Charlotte: Dan and Phil and ….babies?

Ellen - @watergator

Flaws of Biology - @scifiphan

you give me life - @manialester

Jane: Stuff I had to take off my faves list because we were only allowed 3

litany in which certain things are crossed out by nokomisfics, recklessfishes

Bare by basicallymonsters

Beside You I’m a Loaded Gun by ramonaspeaks

Also we mentioned A Waiting Game by @alittledizzy again because we can’t help ourselves.

Final section

We get off topic and perhaps invent a new segment of the podcast talking about Tom and Lance and their new baby!

What are we looking forward to?

Spoooooky week

II DVD release (but we’ll probably record before that)

AmazingPhil spooky week finale video

What is next month’s theme?

Fandom and traditions

See you next time!

#podcast #fan podcast #dnp #phan #dan and phil #phancast #thephancast

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araliyaintheskywithdiamonds · 6 years

Text

Open Your Eyes - A CrissColfer Fic

Part 6 of The Siken Diaries, a series of drabbles and one-shots based on poetry by Richard Siken.

Just mentioning that this is Escort!Darren for those of you who need forewarning.

Word Count: 2745 AO3

6. Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol

Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later. And the part where I push you flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks, shut up I’m getting to it. -

Hello darling, sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known. You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. I’m not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not feeding yourself to a bad man against a black sky prickled with small lights. I take it back. The wooden halls like caskets. These terms from the lower depths. I take them back.

Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.

-Richard Siken, Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

Chris isn’t sure why he does it. Maybe he’s finally desensitised to it all- to the dates and the drinks and the swiping left and right and every which way. To the men whom Chris thinks he could actually care about that just end up becoming notes on pillows and unanswered phone calls. To the sickening, stomach churning feeling of rejection.

Maybe this is what makes him slowly dial the number, shakily tell the unnervingly cheerful lady who answers the phone what he’s after, and note down the name and phone number she gives him.

Everett. No last name, but Chris is certain that this isn’t the guy’s real name anyway.

He makes the ‘reservation’ through the lady, balking at the thought of establishing any sort of contact with the man beforehand. She gives him the paying rates and while he doesn’t care about the money, he cares about the fact that the figures are making this more real than he can handle.

***

By the next week, Chris has forgotten about it.

That is, until the buzzer at the gate sounds, and he turns on the security screen to see an unfamiliar man with a halo of dark curls and bronze eyes. He looks so animated and alive when he waves at the camera that Chris almost forgets that he’s just paid to fuck him.

Almost.

Chris touches the key-shaped icon that opens the gate and picks nervously at his clothes, thankful that he’s actually gotten dressed today. He opens the door before Everett can knock, mindful of the house on the right that can see into his courtyard, and is horrified to find him standing in the doorway, covered in blood.

“Ah shit, man,” Everett says, wiping at his face, which looks it’s just about been doused, what with the way his nose is streaming blood. He holds up what Chris vaguely recognises as one of Cooper’s soft toys. “I tripped on this and face planted right into the tree.”

Chris looks towards the offending plant and nods a little. He’s always thought that the palm tree in the middle of the courtyard looked a little pretentious.

He realises that Darren’s still waiting for him to say something, holding his hand up to his face to stem the bleeding. It’s not working- red fluid seeps through his fingers and drips onto the stone.

“I hope it’s not too bad,” Chris says quietly, holding the door open for Darren and wondering whether it would be easier to bring the hose out while the blood’s still wet.

“Yeah, it would suck pretty bad if I’ve broken my nose or something,” Everett grimaces. Even though his teeth are lined with red and his eyes are watering, he’s still strikingly beautiful.

“People kind of pay for my face, you know,” he continues, and Chris is rather abruptly reminded why he’s here. Everett seems to be reminded of that too.

He accepts the ice pack and damp washcloth that Chris hands him and follows him into the downstairs bathroom, where he carefully prods at his nose. “We can still continue, I think. My nose isn’t broken or anything.”

“I can’t make you do that,” Chris says. He’s not sure whether it’s sympathy for the guy’s bruised nose or the sudden and horrifying realisation that he’s about to sleep with an escort that makes him decline.

Everett grins at him. “The blood put you off? Some guys are into that, you know.”

“I- uh, no. It just looks a little painful.”

“Nah, it’s just a bit sore,” Everett replies, shrugging. Chris doesn’t say anything, and Everett eyes him curiously. “You’re sure?”

Chris nods, and he smiles reassuringly. “No worries man. We can always reschedule if you like.”

Everett ends up staying. He insists on cleaning the washcloth and the trail of blood he’s left behind, which ends up with him spying the faux racoon tail hanging from the balcony, which leads to them discussing the cinematics of Moonrise Kingdom on Chris’ couch.

Well, Everett discussing. Chris mostly listening.

Eventually, Chris is the one doing the talking. He’s not sure what happens but suddenly, it feels like a dam’s broken. It starts out with mundane things, like why exactly he named his cat Brian. Then it’s the books. He tells Everett about the manuscripts on the coffee table and the word documents on his laptop. About the words, and how recently, they’ve stuck in his throat like they’re a train that just won’t arrive.

What he doesn’t tell Everett is the fact that Chris booked him to resolve exactly that. His publicist had told him succinctly in a strongly worded email that he, quote-on-quote, ‘needed to get laid’, and in a fit of desperation, he’d done just that. Of course, not the ‘normal’ way, picking up some faceless man at a bar where he hopefully wouldn't get recognised, but in a more discrete, rather less acceptable way.

Everett listens, amber eyes glowing in the half-light as the sun sets. Chris doesn’t move to turn the light on.

It’s only when the alarm on Everett’s phone buzzes that Chris is brought to reality. Their time is up. Of course.

Everett seems genuinely regretful that he has to leave. He tells Chris that he can schedule another meeting through the agency or he can contact him directly if he wants. When Chris slides over the check, Everett slides it right back.

“You don’t need to pay, man. We just hung out.”

He puts his hand on Chris’. His skin is warm.

Chris pulls away and tries not to feel anything when Everett’s eyes flicker with something that looks a little like disappointment. He walks him to the door, and before he can turn away, Everett bites his lip and hesitates.

“My name, it’s not Everett. Well it is- it’s my middle name- but my real name’s Darren.”

Darren.

Chris smiles a little, and holds up a hand in farewell. Darren looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, sliding the gate open and walking out.

Chris watches his retreating back and then goes upstairs to lie in his cold bed. He’ll clean Darren’s blood off the doorstep tomorrow, he thinks.

***

It takes a bottle and a half of wine to contact Darren again.

Chris texts instead of calls- there’s no way Darren won’t notice the slur, and he makes sure he re-reads it a dozen times before hitting send. It’s just a date and time, but he has to make sure.

He’s not even expecting sex, not really, but when Darren walks in, Chris finds himself pushing Darren against the door, curling a palm around the strong line of his jaw. Their lips meet and Darren makes a muffled sound of surprise before his fists tighten in the material of Chris’ shirt, pulling him closer.

They have sex right there on the living room floor.

“Thank god for your for your fancy rugs,” Darren laughs when it’s over, hand resting over his slick stomach, uncaring.

Chris just stares at the lube smeared on the Marrakesh Shag and thinks about how in an hour, Darren will have to go. And now that they’ve actually done what Chris ordered him for, he’ll never see him again.

It’s only when they’ve curled up naked on the couch that Darren tells him lightly, “You can book me as a regular, you know.”

He dips his finger into his bowl of ice cream and sucks, pink tongue curling around his finger as it chases the cream. Chris asks him whether he’d be okay with that and Darren laughs, bopping Chris on the nose with a sticky finger.

“Of course I’d be okay with that, man. You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

This time, Darren kisses him at the doorstep.

***

Chris supposes things start going a little wrong when Darren stops taking the money.

He doesn’t notice it at first- the checks disappear from the phone table by the door as usual (his chest hurts a little when he gives them straight to Darren), but it’s only when Chris goes to check whether he spent another night sleep-shopping that he realises that none of the them are being cashed.

Chris doesn’t say anything at first. He opens the door to let Darren in as usual, lets him walk him backwards up the stairs to the bedroom as usual, lets him kiss Chris until he can’t breathe. Lets Darren curl up against him as they talk or watch a movie, lets him stay the night.

When Darren leaves in the morning, Chris watches him slide the slip of paper into his back pocket. He lets him kiss him at the door, and Chris could almost pretend they were normal, if it weren’t for the outline of the folded square of paper, burning a hole in Chris’ mind.

He gives Darren a week, and at the end of it, the night before Darren comes over again, the money’s still there.

***

Darren’s halfway up the stairs when Chris asks him about it. It’s probably not the best timing; with Darren just one step above him, they’re the same height as each other, and Chris can see into those ridiculous eyes with painful clarity.

“Why are you not taking the money?” Chris asks quietly.

Darren balks, paling visibly. The hand that had been tugging Chris up the stairs drops to his side and Chris feels the sudden emptiness in his bones.

“What are you talking about? I take the checks.”

“But you don’t cash them,” Chris replies.

Why is he pushing this? Why does it matter?

(Because, Chris reminds himself, without the money, this is real. Without the money, Darren isn’t pretending anymore.)

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”

Chris’ eyes widen. Darren looks stricken, like he can’t believe the words have come out of his mouth. Without a sound, he brushes past Chris and walks to the door, turning the handle with a shaky wrist.

Chris doesn’t know why he doesn't follow him. His feet stay rooted to the ground, and he stays staring at the vanilla carpet, until Brian curls around his ankles and meows for his dinner.

***

“This is Chris. Please leave a message.”

“Hey, Chris. This is Darren.

I- uh. I’m sorry for walking out on you last night. But-

we can’t do this.

I can’t do this. To you.

We could never be together. You can’t date an escort and I can’t lose my job. I’m a musician until the people stop listening and the gigs stop coming, and then what?

Parents aren’t going to let their kids read books written by a guy who fucks an escort, Chris. A male escort.

Please don’t contact me again. I need the distance, otherwise I’ll never fall out of love with you.”

***

When Darren stops coming, so do the words.

Chris had been doing okay, until then. His publishers had been pleased, fewer and fewer drafts were being sent back, and his publicist had been gleeful that her advice had actually worked.

She, of course, had no idea that Chris had gone and fallen in love with the one person he wasn’t supposed to have.

Then it ends up that Chris really doesn’t have him, and his heart, along with his writing, come to a shuddering halt.

***

He sees Darren several months later at a Book Release for one of the big name thriller writers.

He’s on the arm of some vaguely familiar woman in a chignon and a black dress, diamonds glittering at her throat. Darren’s hair is slicked back and he’s buttoned up to the collar in a sharp suit.

The shock of seeing Darren again overshadows the realisation that women take escorts too, and some even as dates to functions and high profile events.

Darren catches his eye as he turns away from an amicable conversation with a silver-haired man to grab a drink from a waiter, and freezes when he realises that it’s Chris’ icy blue eyes that he’s staring into.

Chris stands there, stock-still, and suddenly, the delicate stem of the wine glass he’s holding feels like it could just about shatter under his grip.

He unsticks his feet from the hardwood floors painstakingly, making to move over to Darren, until he sees him widen his eyes and shake his head. Chris follows his eyes to the sign that points to the men’s lavatory.

Of course. Darren and his hero complex.

Chris watches him excuse himself, watches the client trail her fingers down his arm in goodbye, watches his retreating back as he walks down the corridor that leads to the bathroom.

He waits a moment before following suit. The door swings shut with a well-oiled slide, and Darren stands at the other end, twisting at his cufflinks.

“Hi,” Chris says, quietly.

“Hi.”

“Was she-”

“Yeah.”

Darren’s hair is cut shorter than Chris remembers, and he wonders whether his fingers would get caught in the curls like they used to.

“Why?” Chris asks, instead. “Why did you leave me?”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Chris says fimly. “You didn’t tell me, you just did it. Like you had the right to just choose what was good for me.”

Darren’s eyebrows knit together in a crease, a frown replacing the smile lines. “You know I had to. What would we have done?”

“I loved you back,” Chris whispers. “I loved you back and you just threw it away.”

He can feel the burn in his eyes, in his stomach, churning in his chest.

“We can’t,” Darren says quietly. He takes a step forward, a stride that places him right before Chris, that has them within a hair’s breadth of each other. He places a tentative hand on Chris’ jaw. “I could never forgive myself if something went wrong.”

Chris brings his own fingers up to meet Darren’s. “How would you know we don’t even try?” The words stick in his throat like glue. “Am I not worth trying for?”

“Chris.”

“You tell me you love me, and then you walk away.”

“Chris, I-”

“Do you do this to all your clients?” Chris asks thickly. His hand is shaking and he knows Darren can feel it. “Make them fall in love with you? Make them believe it’s real to the point where the money’s normal and the appointments are normal and the phone calls through the receptionist are just fine and dandy and normal.”

“It was real,” Darren says, eyes glistening amber under the tastefully arranged lights. He grips Chris’ hand tightly. “And that’s why I had to walk away. If we were to be together, what with my work, I’d be hurting you every day.”

“You have to stop deciding what’s good for me.”

“You don’t understand-”

“I do!” Chris cries, tears falling freely now. “Darren, you’re not saving me by leaving me. I understand what it would be like. I’m not asking you to stop working. And as for the books- my personal life doesn’t make my living, my writing does. And when you were there, Dare- you were standing on the platform when the train arrived.”

Darren’s eyes flash and Chris knows he’s remembering that night of Lysol floor cleaner and cold pizza and the cold fogging up the windows until Chris drew the curtains.

And then later nights of warm sheets and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and passing Darren a Benadryl to stop his allergies flaring up when Brian inevitably burrowed into his lap for the evening.

“I don’t know what we were,” Chris whispers, “but it made me so, so happy. And it would hurt less if it hadn’t actually been real, but you tell me it was real, and that breaks my heart even more.”

“I never want to hurt you,” Darren says, thumbing under Chris’ eyes to disperse the tears. “Tell me that I won’t ruin everything for you.”

“You make me proud, Dare, I doubt you’re capable of ruining anything. You’re kind, and loving, and talented, and so, so giving. I wouldn’t ever change a thing. Please don’t change a thing.”

***

Two men stand in a bathroom until their legs start to ache and people start to eye them strangely.

***

Eventually, Chris goes back to the party, and Darren goes back to work, and that night, someone rings the doorbell.

Chris turns on the speaker, tells Darren to be mindful of any obstacles in his way, and picks Brian up off the doormat.

#CrissColfer #crisscolfer fanfiction #The Siken Diaries #Escort!Darren #I'm really just exhausting all the tropes now aren't I #first badboy D #now this

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Cyberpunk 2077 Review

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A preface: Cyberpunk 2077 has had one hell of a rocky release, and it’s almost impossible to play the game while also ignoring the controversy surrounding its disastrous console launch, among other points of contention. That being said, in my time with the game—which I reviewed on PC—I remained focused on assessing the game that was in front of me, period.

Cyberpunk 2077 is without a doubt a mixed bag, though its strengths ultimately outweigh its weaknesses. The game blew my hair back with its immersiveness, art and sound design, staggering scope, and production value (at least on PC). But its shortcomings are just as notable, although never catastrophic or deal-breaking. Gameplay has blemishes all over, the writing is tonally inconsistent, and bugs do mar the experience to a certain extent. This is far from a perfect game in its current state. But in spite of all this, part of me fell in love with the game for its ambition, boldness, and eye-popping presentation.

The story is set in the year 2077 in Night City, a Central California metropolis run by megacorporations, populated by millions of cybernetically-enhanced denizens, and poisoned to the core by deep-seeded corruption and crime. You play as V, a small-time crook who by seedy happenstance befriends another gun-waving lughead named Jackie. Together they take on a big-time heist that goes tragically wrong and results, impossibly, with the personality construct of a decades-deceased rockstar/terrorist named Johnny Silverhand (Keanu Reeves) implanted in V’s brain, chopping his remaining life expectancy down to a sliver. V and Johnny must work together to split their respective consciousnesses and take down the Arasaka corporation, whose borderline-demonic tech brought forth their doomed coexistence.

From this point on, you’re free to explore the city and get into all kinds of trouble. There are a multitude of slimy sleazeballs to meet, complete jobs for, and get into shootouts with, as well as all of the other side tasks you’d expect from an urban open world. You can buy/steal cars and motorbikes and use them to compete in street races, stumble upon police shootouts and join in on the action, or steal copious amounts of money and paraphernalia from warring street gangs. There’s A LOT to see and do in this game—the question is, is any of it fun?

The answer is complicated. In short, my answer is “mostly.” I find Cyberpunk 2077’s gameplay to be problematic at worst and, at best, reasonably fun. If the game didn’t look and sound so good, I don’t think I would have enjoyed the gameplay almost at all. I have yet to tire of playing Cyberpunk 2077, but I think that’s a testament to how much I love the audio-visual presentation and the characters, not the gameplay itself.

Before diving into the gnarled, twisted matter of gameplay, let’s get this out of the way: this game world is one of the greatest I’ve ever seen. Several studios have delivered amazing looking game worlds this year, but Night City is a serious design achievement that the folks at CDPR should be very, very proud of.

Looking up at the looming, almost monumental buildings that shape Night City’s skyline is breathtaking, but it’s what you see when your eyes come back down to street level that impressed me most. Trash bags piled up two stories high, plugging up alleyways with graffiti of cybernetic freaks scrawled across deteriorating walls. The environments are insanely detailed, but they tell a story, too: look up and you see big money, squeaky clean windows, and technological ambition; look down and you see a sea of sufferers, psychologically and physically wounded citizens bled dry in the name of corporate conquest. From a purely cosmetic perspective, the game looks phenomenal, but it’s the artistic intention behind the designs that really makes the visuals sing.

As far as technical prowess is concerned, the game is spectacular provided you have the right machine to run it. Texture quality is insanely high, the environments are absurdly detailed, and the game’s lighting, especially with ray tracing enabled, is incredibly realistic. The atmosphere in this game is as thick as I’ve ever seen, and combined with the game’s pulsating, evocative, synth-based score, it creates a mood that few other titles can rival. Simply taking a walk around Night City and soaking in the sights was my favorite thing to do.

The character models are another high point–from the detail of the models themselves, to the way they move, to the top-notch facial animation, every weirdo you meet in Night City is unique and expressive. An interesting thing I noticed was that during some cutscenes that I found to be banal from a narrative point of view were still captivating to a certain extent simply because the character animation and voice acting were so well done. Some of the writing is a little odd, particularly when characters who are meant to be thugs and grifters speak in an unusually formal tone, but overall, the voice actors and animators do enough to make the dialogue-driven moments engaging.

What I fear won’t be discussed enough about this game is its sound design, which is just as excellent as the graphics. Cyberpunk 2077 embeds you in its world better than any game I’ve played this year, and that sense of immersion can be largely attributed to the finely-tuned symphony of sounds that is constantly being streamed into your ears. From the squeaking of leather couches when you sit in them, to the muffled thuds you hear when you drive over speed bumps, to the way crowds sound in enclosed spaces versus outdoor spaces, the level of detail and care that went into immersing the player is incredible. The three-dimensional sound design actually makes the visuals appear more vivid and tactile than they actually are.

As for the gameplay, I found Cyberpunk 2077’s combat in particular to be clunky and a tad slow. It isn’t broken or imbalanced, but it isn’t snappy enough and there isn’t that x-factor that you find in most great shooters that keeps you obsessively coming back for more. To put it another way, The Witcher 3’s combat was so compelling and entertaining that I happily played that game for over 400 hours largely because of the combat. Cyberpunk 2077’s combat is absolutely not what pulled me through the game for the 60+ hours I played it, and there are many reasons why.

Release Date: Dec. 10, 2020 Platforms: PC (reviewed), PS5, XSX/S, PS4, XBO, Stadia Developer CD Projekt Red Publisher: CD Projekt Genre: Action RPG

Combat is of the typical first-person shooter variety, with both shooting and melee combat supported. There are a slew of weapons to acquire and upgrade via the game’s crafting system, and the weapons all look and sound pretty sweet but are somewhat forgettable, which is a shame for a game boasting such a breadth of artillery. The “iconic” weapons, which you earn at different points throughout the campaign, stand out the most and come with useful perks. But none feel exciting to wield are pack the punch of Doom’s BFG or Half Life’s gravity gun. I did however enjoy the smart targeting feature you can access through a combination of smart weapons and a handy body mod, which allows your bullets to find their target no matter what direction you aim and can save your ass if you’re cornered and hurting behind cover.

Then there are the other two pillars of combat: hacking and stealth. Hacking allows you to wreak havoc on enemy tech to sabotage or distract them long enough to give you an opening to pounce guns-a-blazing. You can frazzle a baddie’s optics while you sneak up behind them, take control of all security cameras on a given network, or turn on a flood light to manipulate enemy movements. The possibilities are innumerable, and it all sounds great on paper.

But in practice the hacking system just isn’t all that fun to use. I was amused for a time, as I got increasingly more creative with how I used my scanner to tag enemies and objects and sabotage them from afar. But after a while this system became tedious because it slows down the action to an absolute crawl, and the tactical aspects of combat just aren’t polished or engaging enough to make up for the pause. In the later hours of my playthrough, I found myself almost always resorting to in-your-face combat because, well, it solved problems more quickly.

Stealth feels even shoddier than hacking, unfortunately. In most missions, there’s a big emphasis on taking your targets out quietly, but for me sneaking around almost always led to bouts of frustrated groans and eye-rolls. For one, enemies’ lines of sight are really difficult to gauge—some will spot you from seemingly a football field away, while others won’t notice you cross a walkway mere feet in front of them. On top of this, the window of opportunity you have to grapple enemies from behind is finicky—I’d be standing right behind a guy ready to grab him when suddenly the “grab” prompt would disappear inexplicably, when neither of us had moved an inch. I’d move in closer to try again and he’d turn around and…you know the rest.

I believe that if the stealth and hacking were more polished and refined, or even de-emphasized to a certain degree, it would free up the shooting to feel a lot more kinetic and exciting. As is, the combat grows old over time, which is a real shame when you think of The Witcher 3’s combat system, which is incredible and only gets sweeter as you play.

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Cyberpunk 2077: The Best Cyberware Upgrades

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There is a whole litany of gripes I have with Cyberpunk 2077’s gameplay. The driving—be it on four wheels or two—feels slippery and unwieldy. The menus are an eyesore. Melee combat is atrocious. The “braindances”–investigative crime-reconstruction mini-games–are headache-inducing…I could go on. But there were other aspects of gameplay that I did enjoy, like the streamlined stash mechanic, the flexible crafting system, the number and variety of missions available at any given time, and most of all, the well thought out RPG elements.

The character progression system didn’t immediately strike me as anything special, but the more I played the game and explored the five skill trees (Reflexes, Technical Ability, Body, Cool, Intelligence), I found that the omission of a traditional class system actually makes character progression more fluid and encourages experimentation as opposed to nudging (or shoving) you down a particular path of mastery. Although I didn’t always enjoy enemy encounters, I did feel like the different perks I acquired helped me succeed in combat in ways that were easily measurable. For example, the “Vanishing Point” perk, which increases your evasion stat for seven seconds after you dodge if you’re dual wielding a pistol and revolver, totally changed the way I approached enemies. I quit stealthing for quite a while because darting around with my pistols blaring turned out to be super effective for me.

Generally, I did enjoy Cyberpunk 2077’s story and the fact that it’s more character-based than plot-based. The relationships between the characters take precedence over the machinations of the narrative, and I appreciate that. As in most RPGs, you meet characters and complete various tasks and quests for them, but with Cyberpunk 2077, I felt that the characterizations were so strong that I was actually more compelled to find out how the relationships between V and his supporting characters progressed than I was to collect precious loot at the end of missions.

I found all of the game’s characters to be memorable, which comes as no surprise considering the character work CDPR has done in the past. Rogue nomad Panam can be both compassionate and vicious; the dutiful Goro Takemura is almost comically stoic and serious; Jackie’s tight relationship with his family and friends permeates the game in a poetic way. And Reeves does a fine job as Johnny Silverhand, though his style of voice acting took a bit of getting used to for me, particularly when compared to the rest of the cast.

The nice thing about V’s relationships is that the more you explore the city and the more characters you meet, the more possibilities open up to you in the campaign’s final act. There are a multitude of endings that you can reach, but these outcomes are largely dictated by the people you’ve met and how close you are to them.

What irks me about the game’s last act is how it plays out leading up to the ending. After playing for hours and hours in the beautiful game world that is Night City, I was expecting to be treated to even more imaginative environments and enemy encounters at the game’s conclusion. Without spoiling anything, the final enemy encounters and environments are almost laughably unimaginative and generic, and that was a big letdown.

I indeed experienced bugs during my time with Cyberpunk 2077, but far less than I’ve seen for other platforms online. A couple of crashes and a slew of visual glitches definitely cropped up for me, but they didn’t color my experience nearly as much as the game’s positive traits did, particularly in the visual department. The bugs that bothered me most were the ones that affected the narrative, like when dialogue options would be missing or when characters’ voices would drop out inexplicably. But overall I had a relatively smooth experience that was no more buggy than your typical open world game.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

My relationship to Cyberpunk 2077 is a fraught one. I have so many issues with this game that I couldn’t possibly fit them all into this review. And I have just as many positive things to say. The grandeur of the project is both what I love and hate about it. I do wish CDPR had tightened its focus and worked out some of the game’s more glaring issues before rushing Cyberpunk 2077 out for a holiday release. But at the same time, I deeply respect the scope of the studio’s vision. This is a game with a strong sense of identity, and that’s something that you can’t say about a lot of AAA open-world games these days.

Cyberpunk 2077 is problematic, but ultimately I’m a fan of it in spite of its flaws. And I think in time its flaws will be ironed out and my fandom will only grow.

The post Cyberpunk 2077 Review appeared first on Den of Geek.

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Who Will Save the Food Timeline?

The internet’s most comprehensive archive of food history — a passion project of one dedicated librarian — predates Wikipedia. Now, it needs a new custodian.

In the long timeline of human civilization, here’s roughly how things shook out: First, there was fire, water, ice, and salt. Then we started cooking up and chowing down on oysters, scallops, horsemeat, mushrooms, insects, and frogs, in that general chronological order. Fatty almonds and sweet cherries found their way into our diet before walnuts and apples did, but it would be a couple thousand years until we figured out how to make ice cream or a truly good apple pie. Challah (first century), hot dogs (15th century), Fig Newtons (1891), and Meyer lemons (1908) landed in our kitchens long before Red Bull (1984), but they all arrived late to the marshmallow party — we’d been eating one version or another of those fluffy guys since 2000 B.C.

This is, more or less, the history of human eating habits for 20,000 years, and right now, you can find it all cataloged on the Food Timeline, an archival trove of food history hiding in plain sight on a website so lo-fi you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a GeoCities fanpage. When you look past the Times Roman font and taupe background, the Food Timeline happens to be the single most comprehensive inventory of food knowledge on the internet, with thousands upon thousands of pages of primary sources, cross-checked research, and obsessively detailed food history presented in chronological order. Every entry on the Food Timeline, which begins with “water” in pre-17,000 B.C. and ends with “test tube burgers” in 2013, is sourced from “old cook books, newspapers, magazines, National Historic Parks, government agencies, universities, cultural organizations, culinary historians, and company/restaurant web sites.” There is history, context, and commentary on everything from Taylor pork roll to Scottish tablet to “cowboy cooking.”

A couple of years ago, I landed on the humble authority of the Food Timeline while doing research on bread soup, a kind of austerity cuisine found in countless cultures. The entry for soup alone spans more than 70,000 words (The Great Gatsby doesn’t break 50,000), with excerpts from sources like Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat’s A History of Food, John Ayto’s An A-Z of Food and Drink, and D. Eleanor Scully and Terence Scully’s Early French Cookery. Before long, I fell into the emotional condition known as an internet K-hole, following link after link after link for hours on end. From olla podrida to hodge podge to cassava to taro to Chex Mix to Johnnycakes, the Food Timeline covered everything. Did you know that mozzarella sticks go as far back as the Middle Ages, but back then they called them “pipefarces”? I bookmarked the site and returned to it time and time again, when I was researching, writing, or just bored and hungry.

Despite the Food Timeline’s incredible utility, few people I spoke to had ever heard of it. Those who had always marveled at its breadth. “Oh my god, it’s nirvana,” Taste of the Past podcast host Linda Pelaccio said to herself when she first stumbled onto the Food Timeline. Sandy Oliver, a food historian and fellow fan, was stunned by its completeness and simplicity. “It was one of the most accessible ways of getting into food history — especially if you were a beginner — because it was just so easy to use,” she told me. “It didn’t have a hyperacademic approach, which would be off-putting.”

When Oliver learned that the thousands of pages and countless resources on the Food Timeline were compiled and updated entirely by one woman, she couldn’t believe it. “Oh my lord,” she thought. “This is an obsessed person.”

The Food Timeline, in all its comprehensive splendor, was indeed the work of an obsessed person: a New Jersey reference librarian named Lynne Olver. Olver launched the site in 1999, two years before Wikipedia debuted, and maintained it, with little additional help, for more than 15 years. By 2014, it had reached 35 million readers and Olver had personally answered 25,000 questions from fans who were writing history papers or wondering about the origins of family recipes. Olver populated the pages with well-researched answers to these questions, making a resource so thorough that a full scroll to the bottom of the Food Timeline takes several labored seconds.

For nearly two decades, Olver’s work was everyone else’s gain. In April of 2015, she passed away after a seven-month struggle with leukemia, a tragedy acknowledged briefly at the bottom of the site. “The Food Timeline was created and maintained solely by Lynne Olver (1958-2015, her obituary), reference librarian with a passion for food history.”

In the wake of Olver’s death, no one has come forward to take over her complex project, leaving a void in the internet that has yet to be filled — and worse, her noble contribution to a world lacking in accurate information and teeming with fake news is now in danger of being lost forever.

It isn’t often that we are tasked with thinking about the history of the food that we eat, unless it shows up in a Jeopardy! question or we ask our informal family historians to detail whose mother passed down this or that version of pound cake. But there are plenty of reasons to pay close attention: for curiosity’s sake; for deepening an appreciation of and respect for cooks, food, and technique; and for gathering perspective on what came before us. “Very few (if any) foods are invented. Most are contemporary twists on traditional themes,” Olver wrote on the Food Timeline. “Today’s grilled cheese sandwich is connected to ancient cooks who melted cheese on bread. 1950s meatloaf is connected to ground cooked meat products promoted at the turn of the 20th century, which are, in turn related to ancient Roman minces.”

The problem is that these days we’re overloaded with bad information that can be accessed instantaneously, with few intermediaries running quality control. “I think it’s a little too easy to turn to the web,” Oliver, who was also a longtime friend of Olver’s, told me as we talked about the legacy of Food Timeline. “What I worry about is that people aren’t learning critical thinking skills. Once in a while I run into someone who has never used a primary source — wouldn’t know it if it hit them on the head. Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.” Or, if not a library, a mammoth resource compiled by a certified reference librarian herself. Whenever a reader would write in asking a question, or when Olver herself would become interested in the provenance of a certain food, she’d turn to her personal library of thousands of food books, and her litany of professional resources and skills, and write out detailed answers with sources cited on her website.

As Olver emphasized proudly in a 2013 interview on Pelaccio’s Taste of the Past podcast, when you Google “food history,” the Food Timeline appears first in the search results, even though she never “paid search engines for premium placement, solicited reciprocal links, partnered with book vendors, or sold advertising.” Over the years, thousands of emails poured in asking Olver for help finding the specific information they were looking for, like the history of a weird cheese or a grandmother’s pie recipe.

“One of my favorite groupings of people are those who are looking to recover family recipes,” Olver explained to Pelaccio. “I love that! As long as you can give me a little bit of context, then I have some direction.” She would often cook the recipes people sent her so she could gain a better understanding of the legacy of certain foods. Occasionally, she would struggle to come up with an answer to readers’ questions. “If anybody out there knows the answer to this, please let me know,” she began on Pelaccio’s podcast. “I’ve been asked repeatedly over the years for a recipe for ‘guildmaster sauce.’ It is mentioned on some of the old railroad menus and on fancy dining car menus, but we are not coming up with a recipe or other references.” She never got the answer.

“One of the reasons she wanted people to learn about food was for the simple basic fundamental fact that it kept people alive,” Sara Weissman, a fellow reference librarian at the Morris County Public Library and occasional Food Timeline collaborator, told me. “It was that simple. There was no pretension about it.” Olver found food to be a universal subject of interest — everyone had something to share and everyone had something to learn.

“Yesterday I took the entire day off from work because I wanted to research seitan wheat meat,” Olver told Pelaccio. “My whole site is really driven by my readers. What is it that they want to know?”

The Olvers’ former family home is a modest colonial that sits on a shady suburban street in Randolph, New Jersey, about 10 minutes from the Morris County Public Library, where Lynne worked for more than 25 years. It is fastidiously clean and welcoming, and Olver’s library was still the focal point of the house when I visited a little more than a year ago. As she amassed primary sources to build out the Food Timeline, the sitting room filled up with bookshelves to house her more than 2,300 books — some dating to the 17th century — as well as thousands of brochures and vintage magazines, and a disarrayed collection of other food ephemera, like plastic cups from Pat’s and Geno’s and a tin of Spam. “One of 10 top iconic American manufactured foods, SPAM holds a special place on our national table & culinary folklore,” Olver wrote on the Timeline.

Despite Olver’s intense fondness for it as an object of inquiry, Spam did not hold a special place on her palate; she never tried it. A picky eater, she detested lima beans, pistachio ice cream, calamari, slimy textures, and anything that even edged on raw. When she was in high school in the early ’70s, her favorite dish to make was something she called “peas with cheese,” which is as simple as it sounds. “She would take frozen peas and she’d melt cheese on it, mostly Swiss,” then cover the messy pile in Worcestershire sauce, Olver’s sister, Janice Martin, recalled. “We called Worcestershire sauce ‘life’s blood.’ It was coursing through our veins.” (Sadly, the Timeline does not include an entry for peas with cheese.)

Making peas with cheese as a teenager was the beginning of what would become a lifelong interest in food for Olver. Libraries also captured her attention early on: At 16, she took her first job as a clerk in the Bryant Library in Roslyn, New York, shelving books in the children’s department. There, she was mentored by two older librarians, whom she loved. “She was an introvert,” Olver’s sister told me. “When it came to research, she was fascinated by ferreting out information that nobody else could find.” In 1980, she graduated with a degree in library science from Albany State University, where she also worked as a short-order cook, making sandwiches for students and faculty at a university canteen.

“Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.”

Olver and her future husband, Gordon, met at Albany State and married the year after Olver graduated, in 1981, after which they worked in Manhattan (Lynne at a law library, Gordon in reinsurance), then Connecticut. They eventually had two children — Sarah and Jason — and settled in New Jersey in 1991, where Olver found a job as a reference librarian at the Morris County Public Library, eventually becoming the head of reference, and finally director of the library.

It was during Olver’s time as a reference librarian that the seed was planted for the Food Timeline. It began as an assignment to explain the origins of Thanksgiving dinner to children, to be published on an early incarnation of the library’s website. Around the same time, Olver was asked to write a monthly print newsletter to share library news, which she named Eureka!. One section of the newsletter was devoted to “Hot Topics,” as Olver and her colleague Sharon Javer wrote in the first dispatch. “Each month, this lead feature will focus on a particular theme: holidays, New Jersey events sources, census data, and so on. Included in this sizzling section will be answers to arduous questions, practical pointers and many marvelous morsels of information.”

Eureka!, in a sign of things to come, began to take over her life. “I remember one time saying to her, ‘How come we’re buying all this colored paper?’” Gordon, her husband, told me. “The library wouldn’t pay for the paper, so she was buying it on her own. When the library realized it was taking so much of her time, they asked her to stop. Meanwhile, she had put so much time and effort into it that she said to them, ‘Just pass it over to me, I’ll take it.’”

When the family got a Gateway computer in the late ’90s, Olver began teaching herself HTML, and by 1999, she was combining her interest in the Thanksgiving dinner project and the Eureka! answers column into a hybrid website she called the Food Timeline, where she could focus on providing well-researched food history on her own time. An archived version of the 1999 Food Timeline still exists and looks — unsurprisingly — more or less the same as the one now. “We still hand code html & today’s readers comment the site is ‘ugly,’” Olver wrote under the site’s “Market Strategy.” “We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale. Conversley? [sic] FT looks so old it’s become vintage.”

Olver wrote everything on the Food Timeline with a royal “we,” including her responses to readers’ emails, despite the fact the project was largely hers, with an occasional assist from others. “‘I don’t want anyone to know that it’s just me,’’’ Sarah recalled her mom saying. “She wanted people to believe that it was a network of volunteers,” because she felt that it lent the site more credibility.

“We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale.”

While Olver worked at the county library by day, by night she was creating an online resource for anyone who wanted to know more about Johnny Appleseed or chuck wagon stew or the origins of Sauce Robert. By the website’s first anniversary, Olver was already spending upwards of 30 hours a week on the Food Timeline, compiling and posting all the information she was digging up and answering readers’ questions about the origins of their grandmothers’ crumble recipes. “If you came in the house and you wanted to know where she was, and she wasn’t cooking, she was in the office on the computer,” Gordon recalled.

Eventually, even the cooking fell behind. Olver’s children came to expect burnt grilled cheese sandwiches at meals Sarah said. “She would be like, ‘I’ll leave these [on the stove] and go do my work,’ and then she would forget because she was so into what she was doing.”

Over time, the audience for the site expanded, and Olver’s subtle form of fame grew with it. She was named a winner of the New York Times Librarian Award in 2002, and, in 2004, Saveur put the Food Timeline on its Saveur 100 list of the best food finds that year. In the mid-2010s, she was asked to contribute to the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America and consult for America’s Test Kitchen.

Sarah and Jason recalled taking their mother to a cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education in Manhattan during that time period. “She was so excited about the teacher of this class because she had heard of her through her research,” Sarah told me. “When we got there, the teacher was like, ‘I’m looking at my roster of students and I see that Lynne Olver is here. Where is Lynne Olver?’ Mom kind of timidly raised her hand, and this chef was like, ‘I’ve been dying to meet you!’” The chef who left Olver starstruck was just as starstruck to meet Olver.

For years, Olver lived something of a double life. As the director of a mid-size suburban library, she was known to hand out PayDay candy bars to her staff on pay day and shovel snow from the building walkway during snowstorms, while as the founder of Food Timeline, she brought her computer on vacation, dutifully responding to readers’ food history questions within the promised 48-hour window. “I think she started on the internet as a way to reach a lot of people,” her sister said. “A lot of people who wouldn’t go into the library.”

The night before her wedding, in September 2014, Olver’s daughter, Sarah, noticed that her mom wasn’t acting like herself. While the family was sitting all together in the living room, Olver got up to go to the bathroom; minutes later, she was in the throes of a seizure. Sarah called 911, and Olver was taken to the hospital. The family stayed with her until doctors sent them home in the early hours of Sarah’s wedding day. The wedding had to go on, though Olver was too sick to attend. Doctors diagnosed her with leukemia the next day.

Olver had known for a while that she was sick, but didn’t want to ruin the wedding, so she had put off telling anyone. “She’d be like, ‘I’m dying, but let me put everyone else first,’” Sarah said. Olver was kept in the hospital for two months, but fought hard to be home for Thanksgiving. “It was my first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner because she wasn’t feeling up to cooking — and I ruined it,” Sarah said. “The turkey shrunk off the bone. That was one of the only things that made her laugh in a really long time.”

“Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best.”

When she was diagnosed with leukemia, Olver used the Food Timeline’s Twitter account to grumble about the food in the ICU at Morristown Medical Center, where she stayed until she was transferred to specialists in Hackensack two months later. “It was a chicken cutlet with some kind of sauce on it,” Gordon recalled; the post has since been taken down by the family. “She said, ‘This sauce, I don’t know what it is, I’m not eating it. It doesn’t look very good. It’s not a natural color.’”

Following her stay at the hospital in Hackensack, Olver returned home to wait for a bone marrow transplant. “She had to use a walker because balance was a problem, but very shortly after getting back from the hospital, she was walking around and doing all of her Food Timeline stuff again,” Gordon explained. She was responding to emails, diving back into her research. “On her birthday, March 10, she said, ‘I had a glorious day.’”

The reason? “Someone had written in with a question that she liked.”

A little over a month later, Lynne died of leukemia, only one year short of her retirement from the library. She had been planning to spend her retirement working on it full time: Earlier that year, she had renewed the Food Timeline domain for 10 more years.

A year after Olver’s death, her family began to discuss what would happen to the Food Timeline and who could take it over. “What we know is that we couldn’t do it justice ourselves,” Sarah said.

To anyone willing and able to maintain Olver’s vision of an ad-free, simply designed, easy-to-access resource on food history, the family members say that the website and her library are theirs, for free. A couple of people have put forward their names, but the family felt that their hearts weren’t in the right place. “One woman had shown us what she had done with her website and it was just full of banner advertisements,” Gordon said.

“It has to uphold her vision,” Sarah added.

Olver’s book collection — if a price were to be put on it — would be worth tens of thousands of dollars, Gordon estimates. So far, there have been no takers for either the books or the task of keeping the site going.

“The Culinary Institute of America initially expressed interest,” Gordon said. “But three months later, they came back and said, ‘We don’t really have the ability to take that volume of texts and dedicate [the task of updating the site] to a specific person. I said they were missing the point; I wasn’t looking to give them the books unless they wanted the website, too.”

The Food Timeline was — and still is — a great democratizing force. “I think Lynne liked that the internet was for everybody and by everybody. Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best,” Lynne’s sister, Janice, told me. “If you hold the knowledge and you can help everybody get it, that’s where it’s at.” Lynne Olver, an award-winning reference librarian, wanted everybody to know exactly what she knew.

“I would second anybody who says that they want Food Timeline to be brought up to date, who know how to keep that valuable digitized information where people can get their hands or their minds on it,” Sandy Oliver told me. “I’d hate to think Lynne had spent all those hours doing all that work and have it just slide into oblivion. I’d love to see it continue in whatever useful form it can.”

Dayna Evans is a freelance writer currently based in Paris. She last wrote for Eater about the rise of community fridges across the country. D’Ara Nazaryan is an art director & illustrator living in Los Angeles. Fact checked by Samantha Schuyler

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2AEYzmX https://ift.tt/3gQZZdN

The internet’s most comprehensive archive of food history — a passion project of one dedicated librarian — predates Wikipedia. Now, it needs a new custodian.

“Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.”

“We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale.”

“Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best.”

The reason? “Someone had written in with a question that she liked.”

“It has to uphold her vision,” Sarah added.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2AEYzmX via Blogger https://ift.tt/2AHBVKT

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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disheveledcurls · 7 years

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some thoughts on new russian holmes, ep. 8 [major spoilers if you haven’t seen it]

1. i was not expecting that twin-brother trick and i... weirdly enjoyed it? i love the idea of two identical holmeses out there in the world, one of which is vaguely evil or at least intensely lawful neutral, shady and highly conservative (mycroft) while the other is a radically weird, anti-system, brutally honest, chaotic good type (sherlock). kudos to petrenko for doing such a great job with both.

2. omg the whole “holmes museum” thing. talk about poking fun at the Canon. i have complicated feelings about it as i think does sherlock and as i think that we’re supposed to. i’ve forgotten all the little details now bc i watched the series about two weeks ago and last week was a whirlwind, but i remember watching that scene where we’re first introduced to watson’s little sanctuary and being strongly reminded of siken’s widely famous “litany in which certain things are crossed out”:

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. I’m not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not feeding yourself to a bad man against a black sky prickled with small lights.

and omg was i yelling internally.

3. panin!watson’s circular, expansive hand gestures (and expressive faces) will never not be funny. sometimes it seems the guy talks with his face more than with his words, lol.

4. listen, i don’t even care about irene (any irene) all that much but that death scene in the park was... devastating. can i just get one story where a sherlock doesn’t have to lose someone he loves so horrifically and feel profoundly helpless/guilty afterwards. thanks, ACD. i love suffering and so does sherlock, apparently.

5. is it just me or is panin!watson too nice? is every watson too nice? i just kept thinking if elementary!sherlock pulled a reichenbach on joan and disappeared for three years and then came back like “oh hey watson my buddy my friend wanna hang out?” she would straight up break his nose and then never talk to him again, but maybe i’m deluding myself.

6. “and can the reader not draw his own conclusions? he knows everything i know” ---> wow holy SHIT that dig at the myth of infallible, obscure sherlock. this series is so savage. that moment was so elementary season 1, wasn’t it? it strongly reminded me of jlm!sherlock encouraging joan to use her own intelligence and expertise to solve cases herself.

7. another very funny instance of deconstructing the canon: sherlock trying to dress up as The Sherlock Holmes™ (with the costume watson describes in the stories and which he set up as a museum exhibit) and immediately being like “you know what, fuck this”.

8. now that i’ve seen petrenko!sherlock with the queen’s dog, i demand that every holmes adaptation features an adventure where sherlock reluctantly adopts a puppy. i feel that we all deserve this.

i feel like i liked the first few episodes and the last one more than the middle ones, but overall it was a very interesting and enjoyable series throughout and a remarkable experiment. thanks again, @sanguinarysanguinity and everyone else who recommended it!

#elementary #holmesiana #personal #new russian holmes

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Who Will Save the Food Timeline added to Google Docs

Who Will Save the Food Timeline

The internet’s most comprehensive archive of food history — a passion project of one dedicated librarian — predates Wikipedia. Now, it needs a new custodian.

“Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.”

When the family got a Gateway computer in the late ’90s, Olver began teaching herself HTML, and by 1999, she was combining her interest in the Thanksgiving dinner project and the Eureka! answers column into a hybrid website she called the Food Timeline, where she could focus on providing well-researched food history on her own time. An archived version of the 1999 Food Timeline http://gti.net/mocolib1/kid/food.html" rel="nofollow">still exists and looks — unsurprisingly — more or less the same as the one now. “We still hand code html & today’s readers comment the site is ‘ugly,’” Olver wrote under the site’s “Market Strategy.” “We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale. Conversley? [sic] FT looks so old it’s become vintage.”

“We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale.”

“Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best.”

The reason? “Someone had written in with a question that she liked.”

“It has to uphold her vision,” Sarah added.

Fact checked by Samantha Schuyler

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/7/8/21271246/food-timeline-lynne-olver

Created July 9, 2020 at 01:26AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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parablesforlife · 7 years

Text

God’s got you covered!

As I write this... I’ve had a long day. I’m tired, the language creating faculties of my brain feels a bit overloaded due to the prolific number of conversations I’ve created today out in the marketplace, but here goes the first draft. I don’t typically read over these parables for life and do a thorough revision/edit, so this is all just a one-go-type of writing. I got one shot at connecting with you and that’s how I like it!

As I do this type of writing and creating of content, I’m hoping for a certain result to start developing in my life. There are many things that I do want to develop in my life and there are many great characteristics of a godly man that I am looking to develop as well but I believe that this is one of the most important ones simply because of the number of times that I’ll be repeating this. It’ll be over, and over, and over, and over again! The result I’m hoping to develop in my life is this: creating amazing first impressions.

You only get one shot at creating a first impression. I want people who stumble upon my posts to go, “Wow, this is some great content!” and continue to explore my other posts. I want people who stumble across me in the flesh, IRL, we meet face-to-face, we have a conversation, I bump into you, we get a chance to say, “Hello,”, we get a chance to interact, communicate, connect, have a conversation, play basketball, meet on the court - whatever the circumstance, however the first meeting takes place, I want to hit it out of the park! Why? Because of an impression that Steven Furtick sermon made to me and now I’m attending Elevation Church because of his online sermons. I saw one, couldn’t get enough, and went on to watch more and more, and eventually Google’d the address to Elevation Church in the GTA area - and boom - found my cheeks in one of the seats at an Elevation Church worship experience about 20 min drive from where I live in North York, ON, Canada. All because of a great first impression from senior pastor Steven Furtick. I’d now like to call Elevation Church my home church. God bless. It’s good!

So, here’s the parable. Let’s get back to the parable at hand. The main characters of our parable are many - we’re going to start with Moses and God on top of Mount Sinai, then we’re going to do a time travel to the past and visit Joseph and his family. Then finally, to wrap things up, we’re going to time travel to the future to Jesus’s days and to His place on the cross to wrap it up. The bible verse we go to now is Exodus 21:12 (NLT). It’s a bit of a dry verse, but trust me, by the time we get through this linguistical journey, it’ll be an experience to remember! WORDS ARE COMING TO LIFE! So, Exodus 21:12 (NLT) and we’re going to Exodus 21:17. These verses read “Anyone who assaults and kills another person must be put to death.13 But if it was simply an accident permitted by God, I will appoint a place of refuge where the slayer can run for safety. 14 However, if someone deliberately kills another person, then the slayer must be dragged even from my altar and be put to death.15 “Anyone who strikes father or mother must be put to death.16 “Kidnappers must be put to death, whether they are caught in possession of their victims or have already sold them as slaves.17 “Anyone who dishonors[b] father or mother must be put to death.”

Couple highlights: - if someone DELIBERATELY kills someone, then slayer must be dragged even from my altar and be put to death - kidnappers must be put to death, whether they are caught in possession of their victims or have already sold them as slaves - anyone who dishonours father or mother must be put to death

OK, so, remember the verses and highlights above, now things are going to get interesting. Here’s the context - Moses, as many people know, is the guy who was the vessel through whom God brought the 7 plagues upon Egypt and rescued the Israelites from slavery and led them through the Red Sea by parting the waters. Miracle after miracle was performed because of the partnership between Moses and God. NOW, Moses is upon Mount Sinai, communing with God and God gives Moses a whole litany of laws to take back to the people of Israel in the wilderness. Exodus 21:12-17 (NLT) are some of the laws that God gave to Moses to take to the people.

NOW, while reading these laws, I believe that God reminded me on purpose to think back to the story of Joseph. So, let’s now together turn to Genesis 37 Joseph was the favourite son of Jacob, he was the youngest of many brothers, and he was Jacob’s favourite son. Now Joseph was hated by his brothers because Joseph received preferential treatment from his father and he was one day given a special gift - a beautiful robe (Genesis 37:3 NLT), and because his father loved him more than he loved his brothers (Genesis 37:4 NLT), and because Joseph snitched on his brothers (Genesis 37:2 NLT), and because he would tell his family about these crazy dreams that he was having in which his brothers and even his father and mother all bowed down to Joseph (Genesis 37:5-10 NLT). So, it comes as little surprise that one day his brothers plotted kill him (Genesis 37:18-20 NLT). But, through a series of events, instead of deciding to kill Joseph, the brothers ended up selling him into slavery for twenty pieces of silver (Genesis 37:28 NLT). So, Joseph was now a slave. He went from having it all - the love of his father, the riches of his father’s powerful family, and an awesome robe, to being a slave. But it’s OK - because everything works out for Joseph in the end and his dream that he had of his whole family bowing down in front of him actually comes true!

Let’s skip to that part of Joseph’s story. If you read the whole story, it’s an amazing story of perseverance and victory - Joseph continues to display high level of integrity in his work, and is able to produce results, so Joseph finds himself directly serving the Pharaoh of Egypt as the second in command (Genesis 41:39-44 NLT).

Joseph’s main duty as the second-in-command of Egypt was to prepare the nation for the seven year famine that will take place after seven years of prosperity. (Genesis 41:25-27 NLT). This information was revealed only to the nation of Egypt through the Pharaoh’s dream so we find out that it is not well-known news that has spread throughout the land because in the future, we find that “the famine also struck all the surrounding countries, but throughout Egypt there was plenty of food.” (Genesis 41:54 NLT). Then this happened: “Eventually, however, the famine spread throughout the land of Egypt as well. And when the people cried out to Pharaoh for food, he told them, “Go to Joseph, and do whatever he tells you.” 56 So with severe famine everywhere, Joseph opened up the storehouses and distributed grain to the Egyptians, for the famine was severe throughout the land of Egypt. 57 And people from all around came to Egypt to buy grain from Joseph because the famine was severe throughout the world.” (Genesis 41:55-57 NLT) and this is where things get interesting and we’re getting to the point of this whole story.

The very next chapter of the Bible in Genesis, as in, Genesis 42, begins with this: “When Jacob heard that grain was available in Egypt, he said to his sons, ‘Why are you standing around looking at one another? I have heard there is grainin Egypt. Go down there, and buy enough grain to keep us alive. Otherwise we’ll die.’ ” (Genesis 42:1-2 NLT). So guess what? Jacob sent Joseph’s ten older brothers to Egypt to buy grain (Genesis 42:3 NLT) BUT, Jacob wouldn’t let Joseph’s younger brother, Benjamin, go with them, for fear some harm might come to him. (Genesis 42:4 NLT) - and this is another very important detail to note because of the events that are to follow. So, now, Joseph’s ten older brothers would now go to Joseph because Joseph was the governor of all Egypt and in charge of selling grain to all the people. (Genesis 42:6 NLT). When they showed up, they bowed before Joseph with their faces to the ground and Joseph recognized them instantly, but he prenteded to be a stranger and spoke harshly to them. “Where are you from?” he demanded. (Genesis 42:5-6 NLT). Then Joseph remembered the dreams he’d had about them many years before. (Genesis 42:9 NLT). Joseph rememberd the dreams... wow, what a powerful statement and a point of resolution in the story - now would be a great time for Joseph to get back a this brothers for what they did to him earlier right? BUT, that will not be the case. Actually, what happened is this. While Joseph was in service of the Pharaoh, he did marry, and he had two children. He named his children the following: “Joseph named his older son Manasseh,[c] for he said, ‘God has made me forget all my troubles and everyone in my father’s family.’ Joseph named his second son Ephraim,[d] for he said, “God has made me fruitful in this land of my grief.’ ” (Genesis 41:51-52 NLT). Notice how Joseph named his son in Genesis 41, and his brothers came to him in Geneiss 42 - the chronological order is very important because we see here that Joseph made a decision to forget his troubles and everyone in his father’s family to the point that he would name his first born son that. It was the first thing that he overcame - he decided to forget the past. Then secondly, after he forgot the past, what happened was, he began to live his life, be engaged in what he was doing in Egypt, and because he worked hard and took responsibility of his own life - he said “God has made me fruitful in this land of my grief.” Everyone, even if you find yourself in a position because other people put you there, in an environment where hostiles are everywhere and you are forced to make a name for yourself to make it in society (because Joseph would not have to work hard to make his name known if he had lived at home since Jacob was already a successful man), you can make it! Do as Joseph did, forget what happened to you, forget the people who did it to you, forget the life that you had, the past, the hurts, and think about becoming fruitful in the land of your grief and that God will make you fruitful!

That is good stuff yes? But it gets better.

Let’s go back to the scene where Joseph’s brothers are bowed down, face to the floor, in front of Joseph and Joseph knows who they are, but they have no clue that this is to Joseph whom they seek for help. And this is what unfolds. I’m going to give the Cliffnotes version (shortened version with the main key points highlighted) and here it is

- Joseph accuses his brothers of being spies (Genesis 42:9 NLT) - The brothers deny the accusation (Genesis 42:10 NLT) - Joseph insists, and the brothers say that they have another brother at home and one of their brothers is no longer with them (Genesis 42:13 NLT) - Joseph says that he will test their story, so he puts one of the brothers in prison and sends the others back, with grain, to bring the youngest brother back to Joseph to prove they are honest men and not spies (Genesis 42:19-20 NLT) - So the brothers head home with grain, but they find that their money was returned to them, and are afraid because of what the governor of Egypt who dealt harshly with them would do (Genesis 42:35 NLT) - Jacob exclaimed that these brothers are robbing Jacob of his children, because now they have to take Benjamin back and it clearly is revealed here that the brothers ‘robbed’ the Egyptians (because the money they gave was returned to them) and when they return with Benjamin to Egypt, who knows what the governor would do to Benjamin? (Genesis 42:36 NLT) - So, Jacob now has to make a choice - send one of his precious sons to Egypt for a sure death (at least from Jacob’s perspective, it would be sure death) and think that it is another plot of the brothers to get rid of one of Jacob’s sons from Rachel... or he doesn’t send his son - Also, Jacob says something here that would be very hurtful to the brothers of Joseph - he says that if he sends Benjamin and Benjamin dies, then he has ‘nothing left’ - don’t we sometimes do that too? We have so much but we focus on the losses and depreciate what we have right now - Anyways, the famine continued, and Jacob decided finally to send Benjamin but with the most choice gifts so that he may earn favour and God Almighty will give mercy. Jacob comes to terms with the reality of the situation - Jacob may give the man at Egypt a lot of choice gifts in time of famine, BUT, it is to pay for the price of his son Benjamin’s life. However, Jacob says that if it doesn’t work out, then so be it. So he sends one and only ‘son’ to save the rest of the poeple from famine (Genesis 43:11-14 NLT) - So, the brothers go back to Egypt, with Benjamin this time, and they are treated with a feast. However, Joseph puts his valued silver cup in Benjamin’s bag as they are heading out, and demands that Benjamin becomes a slave (Genesis 44:1-10 NLT) - One of Joseph’s brothers, Judah, after this happened, said to Joseph “I cannot go back to my father without the boy. Our father’s life is bound up in the boy’s life. 31 If he sees that the boy is not with us, our father will die.” (Genesis 44:30-31 NLT) - And Judah offered to be a slave in place of Benjamin for his father’s sake - Then at this point, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers and says this, “It was God who sent me here ahead of you to preserve your lives. This famine that has ravaged the land for two years will last five more years, and there will be neither plowing nor harvesting. God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors. So it was God who sent me here, not you! And he is the one who made me an adviser to Pharaoh—the manager of his entire palace and the governor of all Egypt. “Now hurry back to my father and tell him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me master over all the land of Egypt. So come down to me immediately!“ (Genesis 45:5-9 NLT) - So... what happened next is Jacob was invited to Egypt by the Pharaoh

The story goes on... and there is much more to be learned in the next stories but, here’s what happened. God’s forgiveness is shown so clearly here. Joseph had every right to persecute his brothers, but he did not. Joseph had all the wealth and power to do so. This is a story of how a son of a wealthy family, became a slave, then by enduring the same hardships that a slave would endure, but with the blessing of God with him, was able to stand at the pinnacle of society to be a blessing to others - to free them from famine, from disaster, and to forgive the gravest of sins. It was written earlier that Moses had receieved commandments from God - the one who murders, premeditates murder, and/or robs a free human being of his/her free-status and sells him/her into slavery is to face a deadly punishment - but in this case, even though Joseph’s brothers has committed these things, which were true in God’s eyes even before He had Moses write it on tablets, God still forgave them and saved them through Joseph - the son who was most loved by his father, but was sold into slavery, and overcame all odds to become second-in-command of Egypt and saved the Egyptians as well as his own family and people. Isn’t that what Christ has done for us when He came to earth? He abandoned all of His heavenly glory, became a slave to sin (as we were), overcame that, and eventually gave His life to save all of us. Joseph had to pay the price of his life too - he had to work hard, serve the Egyptians, and forget the past, forget his former glory, if you will.

I think the Bible is full of these stories of redemption, forgiveness, and what Christ did on the cross is depicted in so many different times in the Bible through different stories of people. But in the end, it is one story - a love story. All other gods came to earth to rule over human beings - to be worshiped, to have people sacrfice so that the god may benefit... but it is only God, the One and Only God - Yahweh, Who came to earth to save His people! He came to die on the cross and I’m going to write next about how Jesus was actually not a pauper or a ragged clothed man who lived pinching pennies, but He was in fact the most wealthiest Who walked the earth.

So remember - the grace of God, the forgiveness of God, and the love of God for you through Joseph’s story. You are worth it. And if you have any past that you are still clinging on to because of the pain someone else has caused you, because someone put you in a pit, because someone has taken away your freedom (what was yours to give, they took, it could be your virginity if you’ve been sexually abused or raped and I’m deeply sorry about that); whatever was in your past, do as Joseph did - put a reminder in front of you (for Joseph it became his firstborn son) that says, “I will forget the past.” and then put another reminder in front of you (for Joseph it was his secondborn son) that says, “I will be thankful for God’s blessings in my life.”

Amen!

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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The internet’s most comprehensive archive of food history — a passion project of one dedicated librarian — predates Wikipedia. Now, it needs a new custodian. In the long timeline of human civilization, here’s roughly how things shook out: First, there was fire, water, ice, and salt. Then we started cooking up and chowing down on oysters, scallops, horsemeat, mushrooms, insects, and frogs, in that general chronological order. Fatty almonds and sweet cherries found their way into our diet before walnuts and apples did, but it would be a couple thousand years until we figured out how to make ice cream or a truly good apple pie. Challah (first century), hot dogs (15th century), Fig Newtons (1891), and Meyer lemons (1908) landed in our kitchens long before Red Bull (1984), but they all arrived late to the marshmallow party — we’d been eating one version or another of those fluffy guys since 2000 B.C. This is, more or less, the history of human eating habits for 20,000 years, and right now, you can find it all cataloged on the Food Timeline, an archival trove of food history hiding in plain sight on a website so lo-fi you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a GeoCities fanpage. When you look past the Times Roman font and taupe background, the Food Timeline happens to be the single most comprehensive inventory of food knowledge on the internet, with thousands upon thousands of pages of primary sources, cross-checked research, and obsessively detailed food history presented in chronological order. Every entry on the Food Timeline, which begins with “water” in pre-17,000 B.C. and ends with “test tube burgers” in 2013, is sourced from “old cook books, newspapers, magazines, National Historic Parks, government agencies, universities, cultural organizations, culinary historians, and company/restaurant web sites.” There is history, context, and commentary on everything from Taylor pork roll to Scottish tablet to “cowboy cooking.” A couple of years ago, I landed on the humble authority of the Food Timeline while doing research on bread soup, a kind of austerity cuisine found in countless cultures. The entry for soup alone spans more than 70,000 words (The Great Gatsby doesn’t break 50,000), with excerpts from sources like Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat’s A History of Food, John Ayto’s An A-Z of Food and Drink, and D. Eleanor Scully and Terence Scully’s Early French Cookery. Before long, I fell into the emotional condition known as an internet K-hole, following link after link after link for hours on end. From olla podrida to hodge podge to cassava to taro to Chex Mix to Johnnycakes, the Food Timeline covered everything. Did you know that mozzarella sticks go as far back as the Middle Ages, but back then they called them “pipefarces”? I bookmarked the site and returned to it time and time again, when I was researching, writing, or just bored and hungry. Despite the Food Timeline’s incredible utility, few people I spoke to had ever heard of it. Those who had always marveled at its breadth. “Oh my god, it’s nirvana,” Taste of the Past podcast host Linda Pelaccio said to herself when she first stumbled onto the Food Timeline. Sandy Oliver, a food historian and fellow fan, was stunned by its completeness and simplicity. “It was one of the most accessible ways of getting into food history — especially if you were a beginner — because it was just so easy to use,” she told me. “It didn’t have a hyperacademic approach, which would be off-putting.” When Oliver learned that the thousands of pages and countless resources on the Food Timeline were compiled and updated entirely by one woman, she couldn’t believe it. “Oh my lord,” she thought. “This is an obsessed person.” The Food Timeline, in all its comprehensive splendor, was indeed the work of an obsessed person: a New Jersey reference librarian named Lynne Olver. Olver launched the site in 1999, two years before Wikipedia debuted, and maintained it, with little additional help, for more than 15 years. By 2014, it had reached 35 million readers and Olver had personally answered 25,000 questions from fans who were writing history papers or wondering about the origins of family recipes. Olver populated the pages with well-researched answers to these questions, making a resource so thorough that a full scroll to the bottom of the Food Timeline takes several labored seconds. For nearly two decades, Olver’s work was everyone else’s gain. In April of 2015, she passed away after a seven-month struggle with leukemia, a tragedy acknowledged briefly at the bottom of the site. “The Food Timeline was created and maintained solely by Lynne Olver (1958-2015, her obituary), reference librarian with a passion for food history.” In the wake of Olver’s death, no one has come forward to take over her complex project, leaving a void in the internet that has yet to be filled — and worse, her noble contribution to a world lacking in accurate information and teeming with fake news is now in danger of being lost forever. It isn’t often that we are tasked with thinking about the history of the food that we eat, unless it shows up in a Jeopardy! question or we ask our informal family historians to detail whose mother passed down this or that version of pound cake. But there are plenty of reasons to pay close attention: for curiosity’s sake; for deepening an appreciation of and respect for cooks, food, and technique; and for gathering perspective on what came before us. “Very few (if any) foods are invented. Most are contemporary twists on traditional themes,” Olver wrote on the Food Timeline. “Today’s grilled cheese sandwich is connected to ancient cooks who melted cheese on bread. 1950s meatloaf is connected to ground cooked meat products promoted at the turn of the 20th century, which are, in turn related to ancient Roman minces.” The problem is that these days we’re overloaded with bad information that can be accessed instantaneously, with few intermediaries running quality control. “I think it’s a little too easy to turn to the web,” Oliver, who was also a longtime friend of Olver’s, told me as we talked about the legacy of Food Timeline. “What I worry about is that people aren’t learning critical thinking skills. Once in a while I run into someone who has never used a primary source — wouldn’t know it if it hit them on the head. Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.” Or, if not a library, a mammoth resource compiled by a certified reference librarian herself. Whenever a reader would write in asking a question, or when Olver herself would become interested in the provenance of a certain food, she’d turn to her personal library of thousands of food books, and her litany of professional resources and skills, and write out detailed answers with sources cited on her website. As Olver emphasized proudly in a 2013 interview on Pelaccio’s Taste of the Past podcast, when you Google “food history,” the Food Timeline appears first in the search results, even though she never “paid search engines for premium placement, solicited reciprocal links, partnered with book vendors, or sold advertising.” Over the years, thousands of emails poured in asking Olver for help finding the specific information they were looking for, like the history of a weird cheese or a grandmother’s pie recipe. “One of my favorite groupings of people are those who are looking to recover family recipes,” Olver explained to Pelaccio. “I love that! As long as you can give me a little bit of context, then I have some direction.” She would often cook the recipes people sent her so she could gain a better understanding of the legacy of certain foods. Occasionally, she would struggle to come up with an answer to readers’ questions. “If anybody out there knows the answer to this, please let me know,” she began on Pelaccio’s podcast. “I’ve been asked repeatedly over the years for a recipe for ‘guildmaster sauce.’ It is mentioned on some of the old railroad menus and on fancy dining car menus, but we are not coming up with a recipe or other references.” She never got the answer. “One of the reasons she wanted people to learn about food was for the simple basic fundamental fact that it kept people alive,” Sara Weissman, a fellow reference librarian at the Morris County Public Library and occasional Food Timeline collaborator, told me. “It was that simple. There was no pretension about it.” Olver found food to be a universal subject of interest — everyone had something to share and everyone had something to learn. “Yesterday I took the entire day off from work because I wanted to research seitan wheat meat,” Olver told Pelaccio. “My whole site is really driven by my readers. What is it that they want to know?” The Olvers’ former family home is a modest colonial that sits on a shady suburban street in Randolph, New Jersey, about 10 minutes from the Morris County Public Library, where Lynne worked for more than 25 years. It is fastidiously clean and welcoming, and Olver’s library was still the focal point of the house when I visited a little more than a year ago. As she amassed primary sources to build out the Food Timeline, the sitting room filled up with bookshelves to house her more than 2,300 books — some dating to the 17th century — as well as thousands of brochures and vintage magazines, and a disarrayed collection of other food ephemera, like plastic cups from Pat’s and Geno’s and a tin of Spam. “One of 10 top iconic American manufactured foods, SPAM holds a special place on our national table & culinary folklore,” Olver wrote on the Timeline. Despite Olver’s intense fondness for it as an object of inquiry, Spam did not hold a special place on her palate; she never tried it. A picky eater, she detested lima beans, pistachio ice cream, calamari, slimy textures, and anything that even edged on raw. When she was in high school in the early ’70s, her favorite dish to make was something she called “peas with cheese,” which is as simple as it sounds. “She would take frozen peas and she’d melt cheese on it, mostly Swiss,” then cover the messy pile in Worcestershire sauce, Olver’s sister, Janice Martin, recalled. “We called Worcestershire sauce ‘life’s blood.’ It was coursing through our veins.” (Sadly, the Timeline does not include an entry for peas with cheese.) Making peas with cheese as a teenager was the beginning of what would become a lifelong interest in food for Olver. Libraries also captured her attention early on: At 16, she took her first job as a clerk in the Bryant Library in Roslyn, New York, shelving books in the children’s department. There, she was mentored by two older librarians, whom she loved. “She was an introvert,” Olver’s sister told me. “When it came to research, she was fascinated by ferreting out information that nobody else could find.” In 1980, she graduated with a degree in library science from Albany State University, where she also worked as a short-order cook, making sandwiches for students and faculty at a university canteen. “Libraries are where you’d find that stuff. It’s not the same as using a Wikipedia page at all.” Olver and her future husband, Gordon, met at Albany State and married the year after Olver graduated, in 1981, after which they worked in Manhattan (Lynne at a law library, Gordon in reinsurance), then Connecticut. They eventually had two children — Sarah and Jason — and settled in New Jersey in 1991, where Olver found a job as a reference librarian at the Morris County Public Library, eventually becoming the head of reference, and finally director of the library. It was during Olver’s time as a reference librarian that the seed was planted for the Food Timeline. It began as an assignment to explain the origins of Thanksgiving dinner to children, to be published on an early incarnation of the library’s website. Around the same time, Olver was asked to write a monthly print newsletter to share library news, which she named Eureka!. One section of the newsletter was devoted to “Hot Topics,” as Olver and her colleague Sharon Javer wrote in the first dispatch. “Each month, this lead feature will focus on a particular theme: holidays, New Jersey events sources, census data, and so on. Included in this sizzling section will be answers to arduous questions, practical pointers and many marvelous morsels of information.” Eureka!, in a sign of things to come, began to take over her life. “I remember one time saying to her, ‘How come we’re buying all this colored paper?’” Gordon, her husband, told me. “The library wouldn’t pay for the paper, so she was buying it on her own. When the library realized it was taking so much of her time, they asked her to stop. Meanwhile, she had put so much time and effort into it that she said to them, ‘Just pass it over to me, I’ll take it.’” When the family got a Gateway computer in the late ’90s, Olver began teaching herself HTML, and by 1999, she was combining her interest in the Thanksgiving dinner project and the Eureka! answers column into a hybrid website she called the Food Timeline, where she could focus on providing well-researched food history on her own time. An archived version of the 1999 Food Timeline still exists and looks — unsurprisingly — more or less the same as the one now. “We still hand code html & today’s readers comment the site is ‘ugly,’” Olver wrote under the site’s “Market Strategy.” “We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale. Conversley? [sic] FT looks so old it’s become vintage.” Olver wrote everything on the Food Timeline with a royal “we,” including her responses to readers’ emails, despite the fact the project was largely hers, with an occasional assist from others. “‘I don’t want anyone to know that it’s just me,’’’ Sarah recalled her mom saying. “She wanted people to believe that it was a network of volunteers,” because she felt that it lent the site more credibility. “We acknowledge: what was cutting edge in 1999 is now stale.” While Olver worked at the county library by day, by night she was creating an online resource for anyone who wanted to know more about Johnny Appleseed or chuck wagon stew or the origins of Sauce Robert. By the website’s first anniversary, Olver was already spending upwards of 30 hours a week on the Food Timeline, compiling and posting all the information she was digging up and answering readers’ questions about the origins of their grandmothers’ crumble recipes. “If you came in the house and you wanted to know where she was, and she wasn’t cooking, she was in the office on the computer,” Gordon recalled. Eventually, even the cooking fell behind. Olver’s children came to expect burnt grilled cheese sandwiches at meals Sarah said. “She would be like, ‘I’ll leave these [on the stove] and go do my work,’ and then she would forget because she was so into what she was doing.” Over time, the audience for the site expanded, and Olver’s subtle form of fame grew with it. She was named a winner of the New York Times Librarian Award in 2002, and, in 2004, Saveur put the Food Timeline on its Saveur 100 list of the best food finds that year. In the mid-2010s, she was asked to contribute to the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America and consult for America’s Test Kitchen. Sarah and Jason recalled taking their mother to a cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education in Manhattan during that time period. “She was so excited about the teacher of this class because she had heard of her through her research,” Sarah told me. “When we got there, the teacher was like, ‘I’m looking at my roster of students and I see that Lynne Olver is here. Where is Lynne Olver?’ Mom kind of timidly raised her hand, and this chef was like, ‘I’ve been dying to meet you!’” The chef who left Olver starstruck was just as starstruck to meet Olver. For years, Olver lived something of a double life. As the director of a mid-size suburban library, she was known to hand out PayDay candy bars to her staff on pay day and shovel snow from the building walkway during snowstorms, while as the founder of Food Timeline, she brought her computer on vacation, dutifully responding to readers’ food history questions within the promised 48-hour window. “I think she started on the internet as a way to reach a lot of people,” her sister said. “A lot of people who wouldn’t go into the library.” The night before her wedding, in September 2014, Olver’s daughter, Sarah, noticed that her mom wasn’t acting like herself. While the family was sitting all together in the living room, Olver got up to go to the bathroom; minutes later, she was in the throes of a seizure. Sarah called 911, and Olver was taken to the hospital. The family stayed with her until doctors sent them home in the early hours of Sarah’s wedding day. The wedding had to go on, though Olver was too sick to attend. Doctors diagnosed her with leukemia the next day. Olver had known for a while that she was sick, but didn’t want to ruin the wedding, so she had put off telling anyone. “She’d be like, ‘I’m dying, but let me put everyone else first,’” Sarah said. Olver was kept in the hospital for two months, but fought hard to be home for Thanksgiving. “It was my first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner because she wasn’t feeling up to cooking — and I ruined it,” Sarah said. “The turkey shrunk off the bone. That was one of the only things that made her laugh in a really long time.” “Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best.” When she was diagnosed with leukemia, Olver used the Food Timeline’s Twitter account to grumble about the food in the ICU at Morristown Medical Center, where she stayed until she was transferred to specialists in Hackensack two months later. “It was a chicken cutlet with some kind of sauce on it,” Gordon recalled; the post has since been taken down by the family. “She said, ‘This sauce, I don’t know what it is, I’m not eating it. It doesn’t look very good. It’s not a natural color.’” Following her stay at the hospital in Hackensack, Olver returned home to wait for a bone marrow transplant. “She had to use a walker because balance was a problem, but very shortly after getting back from the hospital, she was walking around and doing all of her Food Timeline stuff again,” Gordon explained. She was responding to emails, diving back into her research. “On her birthday, March 10, she said, ‘I had a glorious day.’” The reason? “Someone had written in with a question that she liked.” A little over a month later, Lynne died of leukemia, only one year short of her retirement from the library. She had been planning to spend her retirement working on it full time: Earlier that year, she had renewed the Food Timeline domain for 10 more years. A year after Olver’s death, her family began to discuss what would happen to the Food Timeline and who could take it over. “What we know is that we couldn’t do it justice ourselves,” Sarah said. To anyone willing and able to maintain Olver’s vision of an ad-free, simply designed, easy-to-access resource on food history, the family members say that the website and her library are theirs, for free. A couple of people have put forward their names, but the family felt that their hearts weren’t in the right place. “One woman had shown us what she had done with her website and it was just full of banner advertisements,” Gordon said. “It has to uphold her vision,” Sarah added. Olver’s book collection — if a price were to be put on it — would be worth tens of thousands of dollars, Gordon estimates. So far, there have been no takers for either the books or the task of keeping the site going. “The Culinary Institute of America initially expressed interest,” Gordon said. “But three months later, they came back and said, ‘We don’t really have the ability to take that volume of texts and dedicate [the task of updating the site] to a specific person. I said they were missing the point; I wasn’t looking to give them the books unless they wanted the website, too.” The Food Timeline was — and still is — a great democratizing force. “I think Lynne liked that the internet was for everybody and by everybody. Knowledge is power, but sharing knowledge is the best,” Lynne’s sister, Janice, told me. “If you hold the knowledge and you can help everybody get it, that’s where it’s at.” Lynne Olver, an award-winning reference librarian, wanted everybody to know exactly what she knew. “I would second anybody who says that they want Food Timeline to be brought up to date, who know how to keep that valuable digitized information where people can get their hands or their minds on it,” Sandy Oliver told me. “I’d hate to think Lynne had spent all those hours doing all that work and have it just slide into oblivion. I’d love to see it continue in whatever useful form it can.” Dayna Evans is a freelance writer currently based in Paris. She last wrote for Eater about the rise of community fridges across the country. D’Ara Nazaryan is an art director & illustrator living in Los Angeles. Fact checked by Samantha Schuyler from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2AEYzmX

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