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sun-kissed-star · 5 years

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alright y’all here’s the first fic i promised, i’ve had this one in the making for a week or two. it’s part of my modern au where medda adopts jack from the refuge and jack is still Just a Babey in this. enjoy!

trigger warning: child harassment, creepy guy, slight mentions of past abuse, slight violence

It was no surprise that Medda was at least a little well-known. She wasn’t famous, and she didn’t have an entourage of fans following her when she walked down the street. But she owned her own theater, and the seats were usually full on the weekends. That earned her at least a few looks of recognition.

Jack was happy for her, honestly. She was doing what she loved, and he was grateful that she let him help at all by bringing him into the theater to help with painting. Still, it meant that by the time she got him out of the Refuge, there were at least a few articles and tabloids online with headlines like Medda Larkin’s Love Child and Little Kid Hits the Stage! Sometimes it was fun to tease them, but most of the time they were just annoying. Medda had tried her best to keep him out of the spotlight for privacy’s sake, but he’d promised her it was fine. He’d had worse, and a few photos online wouldn’t kill him.

As soon as the backstage door opened and Medda stepped through, still panting a little from the adrenaline of the stage, Jack looked up at her with a wide grin.

“Great show, everybody!” Medda said, pulling her hat off and wiping some sweat off her forehead. The pride on her face matched Jack’s smile. “Completely sold out! That ain’t happened in weeks.”

“Well, with those new songs, I’m surprised it’s not happenin’ every night,” said a man on tech crew. He chuckled. “We’ll sell out for the next month if you keep pulling those out of your -“

“Hey, watch it,” Medda admonished, jerking her head towards where Jack was sitting. “He’s only been here a few months. Don’t ruin him just yet.”

The man smiled guiltily and tipped his baseball cap. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Jack took that as his cue that it was okay to step into the conversation, and he slid off the chair he was sitting in and walked up behind Medda, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her torso.

“You did good, Mama.”

Medda twisted around, smiling as soon as she recognized his voice. That was a nice thing she did that no one else had ever done, and Jack hoped she never stopped.

“Oh, I can’t take all the credit, baby,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “That set piece you helped the crew with? The whole crowd loved it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said. “Hey, uh, do you wanna go on an ice cream run?”

“If that’s what you want, honey,” Medda said. “I’ve got a few things to clean up back here, then we can do that and get home and get some sleep. Wait in the hallway for me, okay?”

Jack nodded, letting her squeeze him one more time before letting her go and walking to the door. He waved to the crew, earning choruses of “Bye, Jackie!” before turning the handle and stepping out.

He’d barely turned the corner from the backstage door before he collided with a man wandering down the hallway.

“Oh!” the man said, grabbing his hat in surprise as he stumbled backwards and his eyes flew down to Jack. A look of surprise washed over his face for a split second before he plastered on a smile.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he said. “I was just looking for, uh, the dressing rooms.” He gave Jack a second glance, probably taking in his paint-stained shirt and mussed hair. “Say, why’re you back here? You know this place is off limits, kid.”

I could tell you the same thing, pal, Jack thought. The man was pale and his cheeks were a little too flushed. His stomach was bulging under his tan suit and bright red tie. His hair was thin on the sides of his head and he was wearing a fedora that he wasn’t pulling off. In his head, Jack was running through a mental list of Medda’s tech crew and the guy’s face wasn’t popping out at him. He wasn’t familiar at all, and that was setting off all the alarms in Jack’s head.

“Um, I’m Medda’s -”

Before Jack could finish, the man suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Wait a minute! You’re Medda Larkin’s boy, aren’t you?” He leaned in to get a closer look and Jack wrinkled his nose at the stench on his breath. “Yes, you are! You’re the one she adopted. I read about you online.”

Jack decided now wasn’t the best time to correct him about still being in the foster system. The man’s fake smile was putting him on edge, and his fight and flight instincts were itching to kick in. His eyes darted to the backstage door. Could he book it and hide out in the dressing rooms?

Before he could make his grand escape, the guy thrust a hand at him

“I’m James,” he said. “James, uh, Colton. How do you do?”

Jack didn’t shake his hand. “Hi.”

James retracted his hand, awkwardly clapping them together. “Well, now that we’re here, let me ask you something,” he said, changing the topic as quickly as the conversation had started. “Do you think you could show me where backstage is?”

Jack blinked up at him. “Sorry, what?”

“Backstage, kid,” James said. His smile was looking grimmer. “I’d like to say hi to your, uh, your mom.”

“Um, I don’t -”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” James said, looking a little more impatient as Jack continued to give him a blank stare. “I knew her in high school! We were close friends. I’m sure she would be happy to see me.” He leaned in again, just a couple inches from Jack’s nose. “What do you say, hm?”

“Um. No.”

James’ smile dropped completely from his face. His eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, kid, you don’t get a say in who Medda’s talkin’ to,” he said, as if trying to explain something to a two-year-old. “Why don’t you just -”

Jack shrugged. “Sorry, mister,” he said. “I don’t know ya, and I’m just a dumb kid, right? I ain’t supposed to talk to strangers and you ain’t -”

James grabbed his collar.

“Listen, kid,” he repeated, quickly going beet red. “I swear to God, you know what I went through to get back here tonight? If you don’t show me where the damn door is, I’ll -”

“Hey, l-lemme go!” Jack said, squirming as James shook his collar. Call him crazy, but after living in a kids’ prison for half a decade and getting used to being thrown around like a ragdoll by the guards, he didn’t want a random man he didn’t know tossing him around. “Put me down, help! Leave me alone, Medda, I need help -!”

“Oh, what is your problem, boy?” James snapped. “What, are you fresh out of a boot camp or something? Just calm down and bring me to Medda’s dressing room or wherever the hell she is and I’ll let you go!”

Jack couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, and he felt as if the man was pushing him into a tiny box that he couldn’t escape from, and his heart was beating faster and where was Medda -

“What’s goin’ on out here?”

As soon as the backstage door opened, James’ hands flew away as if the grip he had on Jack’s collar had burned him. Jack went stumbling back and crashed into Medda, who was standing right behind him.

“Medda Larkin!” James said, patting himself down, flustered. He stuck on another easy-going grin. “Didn’t expect you over in this part of the theater.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Medda said. She put two hands on Jack’s shoulders, providing silent comfort. “Now would you mind explaining what was happenin’ out here?”

“Oh, nothing,” James said, waving his hand as if brushing it off. “Your boy and I were just having a little chat -“

“Looks to me like you were shakin’ a kid like you were tryin’ to unscrew his head,” Medda said, cutting him off sternly. Jack almost never heard her take on the tone in her voice, but when she did, it could make Snyder himself tremble.

“No, of course not!” James said hastily. “I was just telling Jack here what good friends we were in high school. I thought I might drop in -“

Medda cut him off again. “Funny,” she said, her hands squeezing Jack’s shoulders tighter. “I don’t remember going to clown school and making friends with any bozos like you.”

“Oh, well... don’t you remember?” James said, looking a little more desperate to salvage the situation by the minute. Jack couldn’t blame him. “We had English together! And we had that acting class in senior year! I just thought I should pop into your show and see how you were doing. We were friends before your name hit the papers.” His beady eyes searched desperately around the hallway for a way out of the piercing glare Medda was giving him, and in a split second, he grabbed Jack’s arm and yanked him forwards. “The kid’ll tell you! We were just talking about it. Listen -”

“No, why don’t you listen to me, hun,” Medda said, her voice crystal cool but still sharp enough to cut through the air. Brushing James’ hand off, she guided Jack back to her side and subconsciously pulled him close to her chest so that her arms were almost creating a human shield around him. “I don’t know if you’re reading those articles online, or if you even read at all, but he’s ten years old. Put your hands on him again and I’ll call it child harassment.”

James looked scared now, which was probably what Medda was going for. “Hang on, you can’t do that -”

“Oh, I definitely can, doll. Now, what were you saying about being friends in school?” She looked thoughtful for a minute, then she snapped her fingers. “You know what, I don’t remember you, but I do remember a nice boy that grew up to be a police officer.” She gave James a sugary smile. “Would you like me to give him a call?”

“No!” James said, throwing his hands out. “No, you have a good day, ma’am, uh, you’ve got a great boy, ah, I’ll see you another time.” His rambling followed him all the way out the door, echoing down the hallway as he ran towards the door to slip past security.

Medda watched him go, but the second he was around the corner, she turned to Jack without even a trace of a glare left on her face. She put a hand on top of his head and tilted it to look at his face.

“Are you okay?” she said, forehead creasing in concern. She wiped a splatter of paint off his chin. “If it were up to me, people like that wouldn’t be getting anywhere near my theater.”

“I’m fine, Mama,” Jack said, a smile growing on his face. Sure, he was a little shaken up, but he was happy. Medda cared about him enough to get involved and chase the guy off, and that was enough to make his heart grow three sizes. “Honest.”

“I’m glad, baby,” she said, patting his head before taking her hand away. “I’ll talk to security about letting people past. Honestly, I’d swear they were sleeping on the job.”

Jack shrugged, following her as she put a hand on his lower back and pushing him towards the backstage door. Her makeup was washed off and she’d changed out of her costume, and Jack was relieved to go home. “Probably. You think they’d let the Delanceys in next time if you didn’t talk to ‘em?”

Medda frowned. “Those boys that keep pickin’ on your friends?” Jack nodded, and she sighed and shook her head. “I bet so.”

Jack giggled, hiding his smile in his sleeve. Her exasperation was so dramatic that she was probably just trying to get him to laugh, but it was definitely working. “Um, do you wanna go on an ice cream run?” he said. “If you want.”

“Honey, I think we both deserve it after tonight.”

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#medda larkin #jack kelly #newsies #newsies fic #medda crusade #my writing #it's been a Hot Minute since i wrote anything over 2000 words #i think this is ok??#let me know please!

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years

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the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you.

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach.

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

———

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call. (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously.

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye.

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again.

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

———

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings.

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

———

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled.

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good.

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence.

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled.

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation.

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #i hope yall see that the sentences that are syntactically similar and the parallel settings are intentional and are like stupid attempts at #motifs and that im not a stupid person :/#also #lol wtf was that ending #anyways #yo this may or may not be based on problems i be having irl #i just fall in love with anyone who is remotely kind to me #lmao #anyone else desperate for affection?? gang??#also r there any toni stans out there i luv my queen #is anyone out there? i just want friends ahh #ALSO DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE OVERWHELMING URGE TO DEVOUR THEIR GUMMY VITAMINS????? IS THAT JUST ME????

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lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rae

Rae has 16 stories at Gossamer. If you like MSR, you should go check them out, including (but not limited to) the fun-titled, banter-filled The Cat, an Espresso and a Bag of Sunflower Seeds. Big thanks to Rae for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It surprises me that anyone reads my fanfic at all, let alone they are reading it 20 years after I wrote it!

But in the same vein, I am still actively reading xfiles fanfic and I tend to read the older fics, or new fics by authors I recognize or remember from back in the day. I cannot explain this lack of rationale. 🤷

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I had a great experience with the X-Files fandom! I made some fantastic friends - many even attended my wedding! I didn't really get involved in the dramas that went on. I was aware of it, but really, I just wanted to discuss my show with people that loved it like I did and read the fic, so I ignored all the other static.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Mainly message boards. AOL chat rooms, Yahoo groups, etc. We would all sign on after the episode aired and chat about it. Deconstruct it. And then we started traveling to meet each other and the real fun began!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

It was definitely a growing experience. It forced me to step outside my comfort zone a little bit. Traveling to NYC, LA and Chicago to meet people just to fangirl with. Meeting Gillian and getting a picture with her - it was wild.

Different shared experiences that "real life" family and friends just didn't understand. It was fun and exciting.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

So I came to the show late in the game. I was sick, lying in bed channel surfing and caught the last 5 minutes of Fight the Future and immediately wanted to know why this woman was sitting in the snow holding onto this man. I spent the summer recording episodes on FX during the week and watching them all weekend and was somehow able to pretty much catch up on the first 6 seasons in time for the 7th season premiere.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In my quest to know all the things that summer before the 7th season, I discovered AOL chat rooms that led me to different discussions on the show in general and at one point, a link was posted to whatever fanfic was hot that minute and I was instantly hooked.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I often feel like a wallflower at a party. I'm on the fringe, looking in to see what's going on. I don't bother anyone and most people don't even know I'm there. Every now and then I'll send feedback on a story, or I might even participate in a random discussion, but I feel it's a little more difficult these days without the chatrooms and discussion boards. Following people on tumblr or twitter and trying to engage in those platforms is more awkward since it feels so much more personal. It's like I'm intruding on someone's personal space. Or having to scroll through non-fandom stuff to find the fic. The message boards were a more even playing field I guess? It's hard to explain.

When I'm hardcore searching for something...anything to read, I'll refer to "The Classics" list. There are still many on there I haven't read.

I miss ephemeral.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

No. No other characters have ever interested me beyond the story we're given within the confines of the show/movie/book like Mulder and Scully did. My friends would dive into Harry Potter or Marvel or (fill in the blank with anything) and I would try to get excited, but there's nothing.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Well, Scully because she's so bad-ass. She's always so certain of her convictions. We don't see her second-guess herself often.

Anne of Green Gables because against all odds, she still sees the beauty in everything.

Jo in Little Women because she is just so tenacious. She knows what she wants.

Hermione in Harry Potter. She knows the most important thing she'll do is help Harry and there is value in that, so she gives it all she's got.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do. A couple of years after the original run was over, I lost a dear friend (met because of XF) and then later I had my first baby and life just got busy in a very different way so I fell out of the fandom and just dropped all of it.

And then there was the revival. I waited until all episodes aired and then binge-watched them. And I did the same with season 11, but waited about 6 mos after it aired to watch it, rewatching the whole series from the beginning, first.

But now I turn it on a few times a week while I'm folding laundry or making dinner or some other chore. It's nice to have it on in the background because I don't have to pay close attention because I know what's going to happen. I've actually watched the whole series a few times this way.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I still read XF fic. It's still my favorite thing to read. I am always looking for the next great fic to lose myself in. Back in the day, I would read any pairing, any genre...I was game for anything, as long as it was XF fic. I'm a little more choosy, now, but only because my free-time is more limited. I only want to read MSR and I'm not at all interested in revival fics.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I am partial to the novel-length AU and canon-divergent stories. I love everything by Prufrock's Love and Bonetree. I have read Paracelsus, A Moment in the Sun and the Goshen/Secret World series countless times. Journal 1999 and Journal 2000 by MD1016, The Mastodon Diaries by akaJake, Blinded by White Light by Dashak, Deliverance From Evil by Char Chaffin and Tess.

I could go on all day.

My absolute favorite story is Arizona Highways by Fialka.

I am partial to Scully angst. And the Emily storyline just kills me, so when authors take those elements and write a kick-ass story, I am there for it.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

How awful is it that I had to look up my fics to answer this question? I don't know that I have a favorite. That's like asking a mother which child she favors. Maybe One of the Damned.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I won't say never, but I don't think so. I've tried to start one or two with some ideas I've had, but I haven't gotten far with them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

No. I don't even have time to read as often as I would like to.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Usually what if scenarios - I try to work out different ways the story could go in my head. I would usually have the guts of the story written in my head before I typed the first word.

What's the story behind your pen name?

There was already a well-known Rachel posting fic when I got started, so I just decided to go with a nickname - Rae.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My husband is crazy supportive and tries to convince me to write again All. The. Time. I never hid my XF obsession from anyone, but I don't think I told many people about my writing.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I am on tumblr and twitter, but like I said above, I don't really post. All of my stories are at Gossamer.

(Posted by Lilydale on February 9, 2021)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #rae

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asherwritesastory · 4 years

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Hi there folks! So this is something that I’m choosing to not post on my AO3 page (for now) and instead just posting here.

This is a one shot I wrote for @grymmeoir for the @craigandthoseguys-week secret Santa event. I’m sorry it’s late but the person who originally had you needed to drop out due to some personal issues which lead to me taking over.

I hope you like it as it was literally written in maybe an hour at most (however I’m just guessing on that).

Anyway please enjoy and happy holidays! (story is below the cut)

It was that time of year again. The time of year where snow fell a little harder and everyone seemed to put all their differences aside to come together to celebrate the season.

Yes, it was Christmas time in South Park. And there were a number of ways the townsfolk celebrated this holiday. Some stayed in and some went out and partied. Some participated in snow sports or something outdoorsy activities. And some left town to venture elsewhere to visit family.

However, when it came to Craig and his friends they decided to stay inside where it was warm. Stay inside of Token’s mansion by the fire and drink hot chocolate, wear Christmas sweaters (Clyde insisted they match but Craig shot that idea down just as quickly as it had been presented), exchange gifts and do one of Tweek’s absolute favorite pastimes… bake Christmas cookies!

It was something the group had done for as long as they could remember celebrating the holiday together. But maybe it started happening more frequently after Betsy Donovan passed away and Roger busied himself with work, which left Clyde alone. Maybe it started happening more as they realized that the years they had to spend together during the holiday season were dwindling down as they got closer and closer to high school graduation (they only had two years left!)

But whatever the reason for it was, they had made it into their very own tradition, it was theirs and it was how they celebrated. It was always the Sunday before Christmas when the group got together and they made sure of it.

“Hey Token,” Tweek called out from the kitchen as he rifled around in the cabinets. “Where’s your mixing bowl?”

“Uh…” Token thought for a moment as he grabbed some mugs to behind making the hot chocolate. “I’m pretty sure my mom put it in the cabinet above the stove.”

Tweek looked up, then at the counter, then back up at the cabinet. Sure, he wasn’t the tallest one out there (unlike a certain black haired boyfriend of his) but he could manage to do this on his own without any assistance required.

The blonde hoisted himself up onto the counter top and reached up, being careful not to let anything fall and hit him on the head.

“Do you want he-“

“No no Token I’m fine,” he smiled victoriously as he managed to grab said mixing bowl that was in question. “I’ve got this.”

“Alright man,” he shrugged and watched how Tweek scurried back down. “I trust you. And I’m pretty sure Craig would kill me if anything happened to you so I’m staying put until you’re back on the floor.”

Tweek rolled his eyes as he stood unharmed in front of his front with the mixing bowl now in his hands, “yes mom.”

Token said nothing but the eye roll and friendly push on the shoulder caused Tweek to laugh.

“I’ll stay out of your way while you bake but the hot chocolate shouldn’t take too long to make.”

“Token you’re fine, your kitchen is huge so I really doubt we’ll get in each other’s way!”

They both went to work, busying themselves with the task at hand. They made simple conversation to pass the time before Token found himself finished with what he came into the kitchen to complete.

“I’ll leave your mug here so you can drink it as you work,” Token offered up a smile as he placed the snowman mug near the blonde.

“Thank you!”

Token waited a couple seconds before taking his leave with four mugs on a tray he held in his hands to head back to his other friends.

“Hot chocolate!” It was Clyde who bellowed our first as he darted towards his friend, Damn near giddy with holiday joy. “Thanks Token!” He took his mug enthusiastically and took a long sip.

“Breath Clyde, you need to breath!”

When the brunette lowered the mug he had a very prominent hot chocolate mustache lining his upper lip.

“I don’t know what it is about your hot chocolate,” Clyde licked away the liquid that resides on his face. “But you always make the best I’ve ever tasted! What’s your secret anyway?”

“I use milk instead of water?”

“Genius! Absolute genius!”

“A tr- true madman!” Jimmy chimed in as Token handed him his mug.

Craig merely rolled his eyes and thanked Token by mouthing the words as he accepted the warm mug. He held it in his hands for a while before taking a sip and humming content lot to himself.

“So,” Token sat down on the couch between Jimmy and Clyde. “What did you guys have in mind that we do?”

“I’m not opposed to playing Mario Kart or watching the Grinch,” Clyde spoke up.

“Which Grinch movie?” Craig asked inquisitively. “The 1966 version, the 2000 version or the 2018 version? And make sure you choose wisely since there’s only one right answer.”

“The 2000 version, duh!”

Craig groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “why?” He shot a glance in Clyde’s direction. “The superior Grinch movie is clearly the original.”

“You take that back Jim Carey is the best!” Clyde seemed offended, like actually offended, by Craig’s statement.

“No he isn’t.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him!”

“So what if I am? That movie is still literal garbage.”

Token chucked.

“Bu- but fellas,” Jimmy decided to join in on the conversation. “I personally like the 2018 ver- version be- best.”

“What?” Both the brunette and the black haired teen looked at their friend.

“Why?” Craig asked as Clyde continued to stare wide eyed and in shock.

Jimmy shrugged, “not dissing the original bu- but I like the new ta- take on it.”

“So you agree,” Craig smirked. “You like the original.”

Jimmy nodded.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me! Screw you Clyde!”

Clyde feigned hurt as he put a hand over his heart, “Jimmy! My best friend in the whole world! Why would you betray me like this?”

Craig flipped Clyde off as he took another sip of his hot chocolate while Jimmy merely laughed.

“Token what about-“

“I’m not getting involved in this.”

Okay, so maybe that was a silly thing to have a disagreement about but it was a conversation the group had every year. And every year the results were always the same. But it was a tradition for them, so why should they break a system that had no flaws and wasn’t even broken to begin with?

“I’m going to check on Tweek,” Craig stood from his seat in the recliner with a half empty mug in his hands. “See if he needs any help with the cookies or what not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just make out with your bo-“ a pillow made contact with Clyde’s face. “Why?”

Craig said nothing as he walked into the kitchen, where he found his boyfriend busy at work. The blonde was covered in cookie dough and flour and the kitchen counter could use a nice wipe down, but Craig smiled at the sight.

He made his way behind Tweek quietly and wrapped the blonde in a light hug (after he had put a tray of cookies into the stove), which caused Tweek to jump.

The blonde turned around and smiled up at his boyfriend as he lightly hit him on the chest with his fist, “you scared me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“What if I was holding cookies and I dropped them?”

“But you weren’t holding cookies so…”

Tweek pulled away, not like he needed to try as Craig wasn’t holding him tightly, and made his way over to the counter to begin cleaning up his mess.

“But what if I was?”

“But you weren’t.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Yeah well…” Craig walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Tweek’s waist and kissed his cheek before resting his head onto Tweek’s shoulder. “I’m your jerk.”

Tweek turned to the side slightly and poked Craig’s cheek, which caused the black haired teenager to look up, and smile when he was greeted with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“You taste like a sugar cookie,” Craig licked over his lips after Tweek pulled away. “Were you eating the cookie dough?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t… what’re you going to do about it tough guy?”

Craig thought for a minute before kissing Tweek again, “that. I’m going to do that.”

Tweek smiled as he turned in Craig’s hold to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, “you nerd.”

“Yeah yeah…”

The two stood like that for a while, Tweek making them both sway back and forth as if they were dancing to music only the two of them could hear while they waited for the cookies to finish baking.

This is just how it was. Every year for the past however many years this is how the boys spent their holiday.

And okay so maybe it wasn’t much but it was their tradition and they wouldn’t change it for the world.

#south park #Craig Tucker #Tweek Tweak #creek south park #craig x tweek #craig and those guys #craig's gang #Clyde Donovan #token black #Jimmy Valmer #south park one shot #craig and those guys secret santa #asherwritesastory #my writing #asher.txt #aged up characters

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stories-from-a-ghost · 5 years

Text

A Hunter’s Demon (Pt2)

Worries washed over you as, again, you appeared where Dean should have been. Yet, there was nothing. Absolutely, fucking, nothing. Against your skin, the pendant burned almost your skin with how hot it was becoming and it was meaning only one thing; the pendant was bathing in the Winchester blood in a way or another. Meaning something happened and Dean needed heal right now. Meaning Dean was hurt. Meaning he was in danger.

Your eyes as black as ink, you looked around you, still trying to find a clue. Even only a little thing. A piece of his shirt, some blood. Anything!

You could feel your hoist heartbeat increase, going so fast that it was almost painful. Almost, since you couldn’t really feel that kind of pain. Yet, the panic, it was all over you. For the umpteenth time, you screamed the Hunter’s name, again and again, more desperate with each name passing your lips.

Mixed in the panic, there was also anger. Anger toward yourself for not have been there in time, for being so useless right now. And anger toward the angel, Castiel. Why wasn’t he able to find Dean? After all, didn’t they have a bound? Why didn’t he reacted faster when those angels appeared?! But… what if he was with them?

You sighed, frustrated, before punching the nearest tree. Then, you heard them. Wings flapping behind you and a familiar presence. Closing your fist, you turned around to face Castiel.

The angel looked uncertain, uneasy, his trench coat floating behind him in the wind like an aura. You hissed, angry as your eyes turned darker.

- “Castiel. You- you bitch! How dare you?! Where is Dean? What, you fucking feathered whores, are doing to him?!” you asked, angrily as you walked fast toward him. “Release him now!”

You hated how you sounded almost begging. The despair making your voice tremble a little, betraying how ready you were to do anything to have the hunter back. Back in one piece. Back safe and sound. Unarmed.

You crossed eyes with Castiel as he kept silence. For a second, the blue of his eyes met yours, but the next he looked away. Guilty.

You took a step back, your hand closing on the heating pendant. The metal was becoming hotter and hotter with each minute, increasing your panic. How bloody was Dean now?! What were they doing to him?

- “Castiel… What is going on? Why are you doing this to him?!”

- “We are doing nothing to him.” answered the angel, his voice calm, emotionless. He laid his eyes on you, making you growl a little. “It wasn’t Dean that we took.”

You froze, staring at Castiel, looking for any proof of a lie. Yet, he seemed so serious, not joking. Not that the angel knew how to make a joke, on his own, anyway. You stepped back again, searching the zone around you. You could feel, by your necklace that Dean was here, yes he was! But you were unable to see him.

Slowly the words of Castiel made their way to your brain, hitting you like a train. You could remember, Dean, surrounded by angels, screaming your name. Then, nothing. You were just here, in this meadow surrounded by trees.

Its when you finally realized; they did took you, but didn’t move you. Well, not a place to another one, but in time.

And Dean didn’t knew. He though you were still in the same day, same time then him. The hunter was hurting himself to help you come back to him. To escape to safety.

You felt the heart of your host, yours?, tighten in your chest as your breath get stuck in your throat. A thousand of questions started popping in your mind; why would they attack you? Catch you to bring you somewhere in time where you couldn’t reach the brothers, were you couldn’t find help?

You tighten your grip on your pendant for a second, processing the fact that no matter what, you had no way to communicate with the brothers. No way to let them know where in time you were, that you were alright – for now.

False. There was one way. One, unique and irreversible way. Slowly letting go of the pendant, you took your knife with the other hand. Ignoring Castiel, you didn’t wait to cut your palm before looking at the angel.

- “You have one and unique chance Castiel, to bring me back to the boys. Do it now, or Dean and Sam would never trust you again.”

Tilting his head, the angel stared at you. Clearing, he was wondering what you mean and why you cut your hand.

- “The boys didn’t explain to you how the pendant work right? You just know that it need a drop of blood for mine to warm up and let me know they are in need of me right? Well, mine can communicate with theirs to. Only one time. When a great amount of my blood touch my pendant, its going to rust to ashes. It the signal… Its my good bye to them. My way to tell them that I am dead. Why do you thing I would have one to, if not to let them know if I’m in danger too?”

Realization hit him, but before he could say a word or move a feather, you grabbed your pendant with your bloody hand, closing your eyes. Against your skin, you felt the metal starting to rust slowly as hands grabbed you, forced you to let go of your pendant.

But it was too late.

–

Kneeling on the dirt, Dean stared at his blood dropping on the ground from the pendant. The metal, once pure and shiny, was now covered by dark carmine in his entirety. The wound on his palm hurt him, but the hunter ignored it. In his chest, his heart was way more painful. So tightened he felt like the organ would explode at any second.

But no matter how much of his blood he had lost, put on the pendant, the thing he wished wasn’t happening.

He couldn’t hear your voice mocking his state. Mocking him for worrying so much. For being on his knees, praying for your return.

Closing his fist, the oldest Winchester hit the ground, repetitively, until he couldn’t feel them anymore. Until his breath was short and burnt his lungs.

Regret crawled into his mind, like tiny spiders, webbing every thoughts with remorse. Why didn’t he warn the demon? Why didn’t he scream to flee? Why did he ignored your warnings toward the angel?

- “They want something Dean. Something that only you, you and your brother can give them. Why do you thing they never came before? When Sam and you were really in need, where was Castiel if he really have such a bond with you? Why didn’t he stop you from making a pact? Why didn’t he came and save Sam? Why now?” you laughed, amused. “But hey, do trust the birdy boi. But if anything happen to me, because of angels, then you knew to not trust them.”

A wave of anger rose inside his heart, boiling his blood. You were thousand of years old, knew more then them about all those monster they had face so how… how did he ended not trusting you on it?

Tears rolled on his cheeks, felling on the ground. Born from rage and sadness. Born from your lost, you a fucking demon and, ironically, his best friend. The only one that would drink with him until he pass out, listening to anything he had to say, to encourage him, to give him true advice – like would have done Bobby. You never hesitate to use yourself as a living shield to protect him from bullets or any attack really. You would laugh at his joke, even the not so funny ones, be there and he was down or having nightmare.

And you never asked anything back.

Never.

Now, you were gone.

Dean hear him before Castiel said any word. The sound of his wings betraying his arrival. Clenching the ground, the hunter closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

- “Why? Why did you took him away?”

- “Dean I–”

- “WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?! (Y/n) did nothing wrong! Never played on us, never betrayed us! They… They even put their life in danger and almost got kill more time then you ever did. They- they never were a menace...” Turning around, Dean stared at the angel, waiting for an answer.

- “(Y/n)’s not dead Dean. We, we were just supposed to took them away from you. But seeing we weren’t taking them back, they destroyed the pendant.” Castiel looked at his feet, before rising his head a little. “We didn’t kill them Dean, they escaped.”

Rising on his feet, faster then he should have, the Hunter almost jumped on the Angel.

- “Then (Y/n) is not better but dead! You- you bastards! What did you though? Castiel! What did you have in mind?! Angels, talking to a demon as powerful as them!? Bullshit.” Dean had to fight back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of the angel. “Don’t you dare follow me. Don’t you ever dare come back to us. (Y/n) was fucking right and I should have trusted them over you; they told me that you were only after us for a reason. They were in way right? But now, with what you have done you didn’t just push him out the way, you fucking fail! Because no matter what you want, I will never give it to you.”

Turning his back to the angel, Dean ignored Castiel’s calls. Climbing in his baby, the oldest brother drove back to their motel, tears felling freely on his cheek.

- “I promise you (Y/n), I’m going to find ya back. I’m going to bring ya back. I swear on my life, they won’t have what they want and they’re going to pay for what they just did.”

In his head, Dean could hear you laugh, mocking the stupidity of those feathered whores. Yes, no matter the price, and if you were still alive, they would bring you back. Because never would they leave a friend behind.

So here we are with the second part. It was almost 2000 words, so I choose to post the second part alone and the third maby this week-end since I’m working on my first request *heart*. I remember now when I wrote this, it was in last november after a friend of mine said something like “Girl, just imagine. What if the Winchester had not only and gardian angel in Cas’, but a demon gardian/best friend?” and I wrote this.

Hope you enjoyed! And before I forgot again, @peter-the-pan this time I think about you before posting friend!

#Supernatural #Dean winchester #x gender neutral reader #male reader #x male reader #demon reader #second part

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totallyvain · 5 years

Text

Totally Hot Q&A With: Aura ♥

WORDS BY: Thania Garcia

Sounds Like: The most polished mix of the most spontaneous sounds

Hometown: Providence, Rhode Island

Totally Hot is a rapid-fire Q&A session with artists on the up and up. Think of it as a super invasive first date ...who knows? You might commit enough to add a few songs to your collections.

Totally Vain: Let’s get the basics down. How did you get your start in creating music?

Aura: “I had been writing songs since childhood, never truly writing them down- but always making them. Then I had started making beats when I was 16; I didn’t think to put the two together til I was 19.”

TV: How did your environment shape or influence your music and music industry experience?

Aura: “Well, I grew up with expressive parents and siblings, all of us have strong personalities! My father would often sing aloud all throughout the house. He loved to dance and blast Michael Jackson. My mom is super kind, always making friends and telling ‘inappropriate’ jokes. When I began with my music though no one in my family had yet to pursue any sort of creative endeavors. I was the first. I don’t know though, I can remember waking up every day, getting ready for school to the MTV Jams channel and I bet that was a big influence. But of course, environments shape everything about a person until they grow enough to realize they have the ability to learn/unlearn what they want for their lives.”

TV: Would you say you tend to prefer creating inside one genre over another?

Aura: “I don’t really create within genres so I can’t say I have a preference. But I blend sounds often and I think they’re all fantastic! And not to be trite but making music is so fun! I love playing around with all the different effects and mixes.”

TV: You've covered country, you've created dance music and hip-hop sounds. How has the accessibility of streaming (specifically on Soundcloud) allowed you to venture and create as freely as you do?

Aura: “I’ve been able to release and share my music easily because of SoundCloud which has been really nice, it’s also been cool to be able to connect with the community through it. But I don’t know that it’s had an impact on how playful I am with my art.”

TV: Your cover art is so colorful and uniquely Aura (I personally love the art for your Minute-Man EP!), how would you describe this aesthetic that you've sort of created for yourself?

Aura: “Thanks so much! I love it when I get compliments on my style haha. I don’t really know how to describe it, I’ve always loved the look of Microsoft Paint and all the character styling on 2000’s Disney Channel- I guess my aesthetic is made up of all the cartoons, colors and looks I saw growing up.”

TV: What message are you looking to spread within your lyricism?

Aura: “This is the best question ever! My whole mission as a writer and actually just my entire reason for putting myself out there vulnerable as can be and embracing artistry- is to promote oneness, spread self-love, confidence and to bring forth an admiration for honesty and truth. To clarify, by truth I mean I want to be able to inspire everyone who listens to be themselves and to be honest about what that means and where they come from. A lot of the time we allow our mistakes or upbringing to throw us into a state of denial, we become ashamed about who we are or even lie to others to gain whatever false validation they may give us. It’s all too harmful!! It’s so spectacular to be yourself! We’re never given the chance to bask in ourselves and stand firm in who we’re growing to be, and it’s not ‘til later in our lives that some of us are able to snap out of that mentality. So yeah, overall, my intention with my lyricism is to aid people that are in the process of learning who they are and lift them up in love.”

TV: Who are your main musical influences? Who are your fashion inspirations?

Aura: “Pete Rock, Kelis, Azealia Banks, M.I.A., Madonna, Tyler the Creator, Charli XCX! Hmm… my fashion inspirations are vast I always have trouble pinpointing them, but I think much like my aesthetic, I just kinda mesh together ideas from everything I’ve seen. I will say though, two women who I channel when I’m feeling low are Princess Nokia and Rihanna! I look at fierce photos of them and I just feel like, ‘whew, I’m capable of anything!’”

TV: "Righteous" carries a message of a personal sense of accomplishment, can you talk a bit about the process in writing those lyrics?

Aura: “Does it really? My intention wasn’t for it to be personal, even though I wrote it of course from my own experience. This song is of triumph and reclamation. Most of my songs are either footnotes to myself or guidebooks for others. Righteous was both. In my past, I was very affected by what people thought and had to say about me to a point where I felt crippled by it. Every time this or that was said about me, I’d want to hide. Anyway, song-writing for me comes easily and I wrote the whole tune in about an hour. I had to get these things I had felt off of my chest, but I couldn't believe I was able to get them onto paper. Like I said, song-writing for me is very easy, but it was the first time I had ever been able to write something so meaningful, freeing, and healing. ‘Righteous’ and another one of my songs ‘Pushback 5’ are my favorites works to date.”

TV: The production and mixing of "Righteous" are super spacey and fun and I think they compliment the lyrics perfectly, what was the production process like?

Aura: “I didn’t produce the initial beat to Righteous, that was my pal ARIV. Although through the mixing I basically did co-produce, as did my engineer Enytime. The beat was so crazy I couldn’t help but want to add to it, I could hear the snaps and DJ scratches as I recorded the verses. A lot of the mixing was good ‘ol off the top improvising, but I remember telling Enytime ‘I need DJ scratches here, there, and there.’ We didn’t have a mixer but somehow he pulled out his laptop and did the damn thanggg!”

TV: What drives your motivation to continue creating as a young and up and coming artist in the streaming age?

Aura: “Not to be dramatic, but my only motivation to continue working is the fact that the world is a dark place… Many people need guidance yet most influencers have nothing of value to offer. Drugs, fashion, money, and drama are okay I guess, I’d love to do without it, but I’m sure there needs to be a balance of some sort. I know that with the right people leading the way the world can once again see pure love and light. People will be able to recognize their own power and abilities individually, as well as united- and when we’re in that power we’re able to make great, kind and eco-friendly choices, etc. My motivation to keep creating is to be able to see that world, and have played a part whether small or large in building it.”

You can find Aura’s info + tunes at: http://linktr.ee/auramoreno

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caroline18mars · 6 years

Text

A Man On Fire - Chapter 3

“The usual?” the waitress asked as she stopped at her table, “Yes, please, and some soup would be lovely, thanks Ella!” Harper smiled at her while struggling to unwrap her scarf from around her neck, “coming right up, sweetie” the waitress winked as she wrote down her order and walked back to the counter. Harper waited until she was gone and then nervously dug through her bag, fishing out the phone which she put in front of her, why was she so nervous? Her trembling fingers unlocked the phone, a mail from 'stranger', YES! Wait..what? She shook her head and read it again, clasping her hand over her mouth, she was reading it right, he wanted to buy a painting! Her first! OMFG! Her fingers started whizzing over the screen, she was actually getting good at this whole digital shizzle!

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re: What?

Hey Joe! (I admit I just sang those two words Jimi Hendrix-style in my head typing them, sorry!)

Joe is a good name, simple, straightforward..and definitely an LA-kind of name, kind of rustic too, don't you think? Are you as rustic as your name? :) Kidding of course! Of course you're not because some rustic would never BUY MY FIRST PAINTING!!! THANK YOU!!

I'll send you the financial details and you tell me where you want it shipped. Is this real? Wait, let me re-read it..yes it is! You can actually call yourself the first owner of a real De Robiano, which isn't something everybody can say!

I'm working on something out of my comfort zone right now, (read that as hyper-realism) but I'll send you a picture when I get home and if I can figure out how to upload it, try not to judge because it really is the hardest thing I've done so far.

Oh Joe, sometimes this world can be such a rough struggle, but today is not one of those days, today is a fine day I'll remember forever!

But we're always talking about my work, what does Joe Cubbins do when he's not buying art?

Anyway, *raises her favorite sandwich and a spoon full of hot soup* here's to you, 'stranger' Joe!

An immensely grateful and overwhelmed (and that doesn't happen often)

Coco

Putting the phone down again, she leaned back in her seat taking a big bite of her sandwich while she looked out of the window and revelled in the fuzzy warmth of her first success, didn't matter if it was only one person who had seen and loved her work, at least it was one person who totally understood what she was trying to say with it.

“Shannon!” Jared's voice thundered around his brother's house as he walked inside, where the hell was he? “Shannon?!” he shouted again without success, walking inside the spacious living room he noticed the long drapes waving in the wind and heard the giggling and the splashing of water. There he was, fooling around in his pool with that same girl everyone had been warning him about, she was really bad news for his brother, given her drug abuse history everyone seemed to know about except for Shannon himself, who just ignored every red flag where she was concerned. “Hey Jay!” he said all surprised as he noticed his brother, “what the hell are you doing? Everyone's waiting for you” Jared tried to keep calm which wasn't easy as the girl just draped herself a little tighter around his brother. A little light popped on in Shannon's head “the tour..”he whispered, “yes the tour, you idiot! Get out of that pool, get dressed! I'll go put your bags in the car” Jared hissed and turned on his heels before he really lost his last ounce of patience. Ten minutes later, Shannon rushed out the door, waving at her as he got in the car “sorry, bro, I completely lost track of time” he hastened to say, still with that lovey dovey smile on his face, “is she actually staying at your house while you're gone?” Jared frowned. “Yeah! She's fucking amazing, man!” Shannon rolled his eyes as he pulled the seatbelt over him, Jared pushed down on the gas “a fucking amazing junkie” he hissed between his clenched teeth. “She's not a junkie” Shannon mumbled, shaking his head as his fingers nervously drummed on the leather of the passenger's door, “no she's not, she's just a woman who loves to use her credit card for cutting a line of cocaine several times a day, and the spoons in her kitchen are not for soup, but for warming up her heroin” Jared sarcastically huffed. “Shut the fuck up! That's not true, you don't know anything about her” Shannon shouted at him and banged his fist on the door, “whatever Shannon, I just don't want her around on the tour, is that clear?” Jared tried not to let this problem escalate, not now that this tour was about to start, this tour was their most innovative and ambitious ever, so much had happened since they last came off the road a few years ago, this tour needed to be a signature, a stepping tone for this band, and trouble was the last thing any of them needed.

Harper walked home after her little solo-celebration, digging her hands deep into her pockets when the icy wind blew right through her, her thoughts started drifting off to the stranger who was in LA right now and who was probably laying on some warm beach somewhere. She stopped in her tracks as she walked past a bookshop and a certain book caught her eye 'Love Letters of Great Men and Great Women', yeah right..love..a waste of time, that's what it was..love was just another excuse for people who didn't have the guts to be alone, love was ice cream that melted way too quickly, leaving nothing but a mess in your glass. Half an hour later she walked back inside her studio, threw the paper bag with the book on the kitchen counter, together with her handbag, hissing a few profanities as her painfully frozen fingers tugged at the zipper of her jacket. Right..photos, she needed to take photos, she let her jacket fall on the floor and took the phone out of her bag, no new e-mail..she immediately felt her mood change, and she knew exactly the reason for that, she was letting this phone take up way too much of her time already. Just a couple of photos, she would send them in an e-mail and then she was gonna switch this damn thing off for a couple of days, and catch her breath again, but first things first, she slowly tapped on the phone symbol and then on Sean's name before she put it against her ear. “Sean? Hi, it's Harper, how's things?” he heard her voice tremble in his ear, “hey Harp, I'm fine, what's wrong?” he quickly said, he had never heard her like this before, “Nothing, everything's just fine..I was just calling to see how you were doing?” she lied. “Really? Could've fooled me, Harp” god she hated how he called her Harp every single time, she bit her tongue wanting to set him straight, no, right now she needed to eat some humble pie, he needed to explain to her how this whole up- or downloading thing worked, “come on, out with it, what is it? You missing me already?”. Ughhh, he was on a mission to irritate the hell out of her, “you wish! No, I just wanted to say that I've sold my first painting and I..well, I wanted to thank you for putting up that webpage”. On the other side of the line there was a whistle and a hearty laugh “what? Really? You actually sold a piece? That's fantastic, Harper! How much?”, she lit up another cigarette and pushed the smoke out of her lungs “500” she said with a cough. “500? sweetheart, that's way under the asking price, I told you, even the smaller ones start at 2000! you might have well given it away” he huffed, his answer shocked her. “Shit..well whose fault is that then? You were supposed to send me the price list” she said all annoyed, fuck this, no wonder Joe had been so eager to snap it up, how stupid could she be? Joe probably had been laughing his head off at her stupidity. “I've been busy, alright?!” he spat back at her and a silence dropped on her side of the line “look, I'll send you the list in a few minutes, listen, I've gotta go again but I can quickly tell you how to download the list” she heard him say, “you really do know how to make someone feel like the biggest nitwit alive, don't you? I can work this phone just fine, hey I even know how to switch it off which is exactly what I'm gonna do right now! Goodbye, Sean!” she barked and disconnected the call, the nerve of that fucker!. Frustrated with herself, she pushed the button on the side of the phone until the screen blacked over and threw it on the counter all disgusted with him and the rest of the world. Dumbass! Retarded, technologically disabled piece of shit, that's what she was, fucking up her own first sale.

Still no e-mail..how long had it been since they had to postpone their opening show? 2 days? 3? he was jetlagged and frustrated, all these cross continental flights were doing his head in. He had sent her a reply on the plane to Germany, all excited about the pics she was going to send him which never came, then he had sent her another mail and another this morning, something was wrong, he could feel it.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: ???

Coco,

What's going on? Why the sudden silence? Are you ok? Did I do or say something to upset you? Has something happened?

I miss our 'chats'..

I would appreciate it if you dropped me a line, a word, doesn't matter, just a sign of life because to tell you the truth, I'm starting to worry..

I really need 'a friend' to talk to..so, in your absence I'm looking at your webpage again and admiring your work, it gives me comfort.

Joe (who's getting more and more worried)

#jared leto #Jared Leto Fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #30 Seconds To Mars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #new story #chapter 3 #Harper Coco

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ssadropout · 5 years

Text

The Contest

This bit of silliness and OOC-ness is based on the Seinfeld episode “The Contest.” I have no idea why I wrote a fic based on that episode (well, maybe because I love it), but I know that I could never get close to that episode’s perfection. If you haven’t seen it, you are really missing out.

Havoc is caught doing something very private, and the incident prompts a competition among the Mustang Gang plus Rebecca.

0-0-0-0-0

Happily for Havoc, it was Breda who found him. Sadly, it was not the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him (but that's another story for another time.) Jean had gone into the men's locker room to shower after his workout. He'd felt tired until he noticed the magazine. The issue of Guns! Guns! (Guns!) was open to a page showing a brunette with long curly hair and a blond with short hair. They were skimpily clad and holding new rifle models. Maybe, if they hadn't looked so much like Catalina and Hawkeye, it wouldn't have happened, but they did sort of resemble the two best friends. And he did have a thing for one of them- the one that he was a little less afraid of.

He figured that he had a few minutes before anyone else showed up, since the others had just begun their workouts when he'd left.

He hadn't taken into consideration the degree of Breda's dislike of exercise (which rivaled his fear of dogs.) Havoc was so close when his cohort walked in, but that was that. Havoc was caught in the act, and Breda regretted that the seen could not be unseen. The red head did not say a word. He really didn't need to. They showered, and as they left the locker, Havoc whined, “You're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“Hell, yes!” said Breda with an evil grin.

Hawkeye noticed that Havoc wouldn't look her in the eyes. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her at all. He just sort of looked beyond her. She also saw that Breda's attempt at a nonchalant mien was sure to fail. She realized that it was one of those times where she didn't want to know what the problem was, so she just went back to work.

Breda sauntered over to Fuery's desk with a mischievous look in his eyes. He spoke lowly. First Fuery's eyes grew wide, magnified by his thick lenses. Then, his face grew beet red. Then he started giggling nervously, averting his head from Havoc's direction. That was about when the Colonel stepped out of his inner office.

His gaze took everything in: Hawkeye diligently working, Breda talking to Fuery, Fuery trying to control himself, Falman working, and Havoc working... Havoc working when something was going on? The Colonel instantly analyzed the situation. “Master Sergeant Fuery, I need you in my office.”

Breda paled, and Havoc nearly fainted. They knew that Mustang would break Fuery like a marshmallow-roasting twig. He had gone right for the weakest link. Breda mouthed , “Sorry Hav,” across the room.

Mustang preceded poor Kain into the inner office and had him shut the door. He sat at his desk and feigned interest in his paper work, saying nothing. After about five minutes, he said, “Sergeant?”

“Sir?”

“Do I really need to ask?”

“Please don't make me tell you, Sir.”

“I'm afraid that I can't grant that request.”

“It's really not my story to tell, Colonel.”

“It is unless you want the rest of the team to stay until 2200.”

“That's not fair, Sir!”

The Colonel just stared at the poor communications officer who finally sighed. “Okay, Sir,”

0-0-0

Mustang called the men into his office. Hawkeye rose, too, but his look sent her silently back to her seat. She really did not want to know.

The Colonel was trying to look serious, but there was definitely a twinkle in his eyes. Havoc looked sick, and Breda was trying not to snicker. Poor Fuery looked abashed, and Falman... well, you know. Mustang, usually not at a loss for words, seemed to be mentally formatting a sentence. Finally:

“What the hell, Havoc? What if it had been anyone not from our team? What were you thinking?”

“He wasn't,” Breda whispered but was silenced by Mustang's I want to burn something look.

“If you had seen the magazine, Sir... Do you want me to go get it?” Havoc ventured.

“You've got to be kidding me!” However, Mustang was curious. “Did you see it, Breda?”

“The models did resemble the Lieutenant and 2nd Lieutenant. However, they didn't have enough clothes on to show whether they were military or not. They didn't exactly hold the rifles like they were professional... shooters.” Breda was looking at Havoc as he was answering Mustang.

The Colonel turned to Havoc and asked, “And which lady did you find more attractive?”

Nearly choking, Jean replied, “I think that brunettes are really hot!” It was the truth, but more importantly, it was the right answer. Mustang seemed to relax a little.

“I can't believe that you could not control yourself!”

“C'mon Colonel! Didn't you ever just have to... take care of business?”

“It's not what you did as much as it's where you did it.”

“I bet you would have done the same thing, Boss!”

Before Roy could reply, Breda cut in. “I think that I have an idea.”

0-0-0

Whoever held out from spanking the monkey the longest would win the pot. Each of the five men would ante up 2,000 cenz. The Contest would begin the next Monday so that the men could prepare for it. Falman would handle the money. Reporting of failure to master ones lapse would be on the honor system.

And that's how the Contest would have proceeded had Havoc not run into the darker model's doppelganger. What ensued was emblematic of why he had problems with the ladies. While he had the presence of mind to not blurt out the incident that had inspired the Contest, he did tell her about the Contest.

“I want in!”Rebecca yelled as she poked him in the chest.

“You're not part of our unit, and, anyway, you're a girl,” explained Havoc.

“What about Riza? She's a girl?”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye is not part of it. She doesn't know about it, unless Mustang told her.”

“I see!” Catalina snapped and stalked off. Right to talk to Hawkeye, of course.

0-0-0

Ten minutes later, the men were called into the Colonel's inner office. Catalina and Hawkeye had clearly double teamed Mustang, who did not appear to be pleased.

“The participation in our Contest is being expanded. The 1st and 2nd lieutenants will be joining us.”

“Wait a minute!” interrupted Breda. “That's not fair! Everyone knows that women don't have the same need for relief as men.”

Havoc added, “Plus, Hawkeye wouldn't...”

“I wouldn't what, Havoc?”

“Um. Nothing.” If she kept looking at him like that, he'd win with ease.

Falman suggested that it would be fairer if the women put in 3,000 cenz each. Everyone agreed, and they piled their hands to seal the deal.

Tuesday 0830

“We have 2000 cenz in the kitty,” monotoned Falman.

“Already? Who... is not a Master Sergeant?” quipped Roy.

“Was there a new Wonder Woman comic book, Fuery?” asked Breda.

“Not me!”

A sigh came from Falman's desk. “I'm the one who's out.”

“You, Falman? How?”

“My lady friend called from South City. She said some things. I said some things. When we hung up, I did a thing.”

“This calls for a moment of silence,” said Breda.

Tuesday 1215

Riza decided to go to the gym for a workout and just heat up some soup to eat at her desk later. She changed into her shorts and tee and trotted to the gym. She was still standing in the doorway when a grunt drew her attention to the Boflex. There, glowing with the sweat of effort, was her commanding officer, clad in shorts and an A-shirt. She stared, mouth open a little. One could easily forget what a desk jockey might be hiding under his uniform. She gazed at his biceps, bulging in an un- Armstrong but alluringly strong way. He was clueless of her presence, lost in the zone. After a few seconds, she backed away silently.

Wednesday 0850

Fuery emptied his pocket onto Falman's desk

“The new Wonder Woman comic came out.”

Wednesday 1030

Everyone watched as Hawkeye rose from her desk chair and placed an envelope tidily onto Falman's desk.

“Et tu, Lieutenant?”

“Hawkeye? I had a side bet on you for the win!” Havoc moaned. “What drove you to... No! How exactly do you... tune up your equipment?”

The look that Hawkeye gave may have been her most intimidating yet.

The colonel abruptly turned and retreated to his office. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice his bobbing Adam's apple or his dilated pupils.

But, Hawkeye had noticed. She may have looked like her mind was 100% on her work, but she was grinning evilly inside. She was sure that her plan for revenge would work.

Wednesday 1830

Only Mustang and Hawkeye remained in the office. They would have been able to leave on time had Mustang not sat at his desk staring much of the day.

“I think that you should just go home, Sir. You are mostly caught up. You can make up the rest tomorrow morning.”

“That's a good idea, Lieutenant. I'll drive you home. Let's go!”

“Is it okay if I stop in the Lady's Room for a minute?”

“Sure. I'll meet you at the door to the parking lot.”

He listened to the soft thud of his boots echo in the empty hall. All he could think about was the lieutenant. He would give anything to know whom she had found so irresistibly seductive. He thought that she was the hottest, smartest, prettiest, everything good-est woman he knew. He knew that she liked him and was pledged to follow him, but she seemed to think of him as a bit of an idiot. He was not the kind of man that she would fall for.

He heard steps, and a moment later, she turned the corner into his sight line. He smiled. As she got closer, he realized that she had let her hair down and put on some lip gloss.

He opened the car door for her, and she put her hand on his arm liked a lady being helped in. He shut the passenger door and got in himself.

They always had had good communication, both silent and not. She told him a cute story about Hayate and her neighbor's cat. He pulled up in front of her building.

“Don't forget that you still have work to make up, tomorrow, Sir.”

“I wo...”

She grabbed his jacket lapels and pulled him into a kiss. Her breath was fresh. The kiss was not too soft. Not too hard. Not nearly long enough. She jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and glided into her building. Had she actually swayed her hips a little? He banged his forehead on the steering wheel.

Thursday 0800

Havoc walked in whistling a jaunty tune and looked around at everyone diligently working. “Is the Boss in?”

“He's in his office,” said Fuery.

Havoc shrugged and plopped into his seat.

Thursday 1650

Mustang showed his face in the outer office for the first time that day. He reached into his pocket and counted out 2000 cens that he handed to Falman.

“Just now? In your office?” cackled Breda.

Mustang's glare rivaled Hawkeye's best. “No! Last night at home.”

“What... triggered it, Boss?”

“Just shut up,” mumbled Boss.

Riza's smirk rivaled Roy's best.

Friday 0820

Breda paid his 2000 cenz. He had gone to a topless bar alone, because Havoc had been otherwise engaged.

“Looks like it's just Havoc and Catalina. It doesn't make any sense.”

Havoc smiled and whistled.

Later, Breda passed Catalina in a hall. She looked more mellow than he thought was possible for the excitable woman.

The following Friday 1450

“I can't believe that you and or Catalina are being honest. You've caved, haven't you, Havoc?” Breda was turning a shade of purple. “ I even put that pinup calendar in your desk.”

“I can only speak for myself,” stated Jean. “I have not spanked the monkey since the contest began. Lieutenant Hawkeye, has Catalina said anything to you?”

“She said that she's been good. Then she said 'Really good.' She refused to explain what that meant. She was... preternaturally- for her- calm. Also, she canceled our dinner plans. It's very strange.”

Friday2300

Havoc put his arm around Catalina and kissed her cheek. She slid onto his lap and tipped her wineglass to his lips.

“This contest is the best thing that ever happened to me.” He kissed her mouth. “I think that I fell for you the first time you called me 'jerkhick.' You made up a name just for me.”

Catalina kissed his neck. “Yep. We might never have gotten close if it weren't for this stupid contest, you jerkhick. You're not half as dumb as I thought you were. And your body is twice as hot. And I even like you. How long do you think we should wait until we just ask for the money?”

“I don't know, but I do know that you don't have to wait for...”

“Then don't make me wait.”

#fullmetal alchemist #the mustang gang #seinfeld #fan fiction

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

Text

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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oldmarsies · 7 years

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#10 from the first section?

omlllll this took me awhile but i found an old story i wrote when i was like 12 on a fanfic / online books website.the "book" was called Cyber Friends and it even had its own cover lmao. ( im on my phone atm but i will post the cover when i get on my computer )WARNING: hardest try not to cringe challenge ahead. you have been warned.1. The MeetIt was the last day of home-schooling. Summer vacation was only ten minutes away, then; good bye Homework. Good bye long and useless essays. Good bye listening to an online teacher for hours. Good bye everything school related.Tic... Tok... Tic... Tok... was all that Emilia heard. Sometimes, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, days felt like weeks.... and so on.Tic... Tok... Tic... Tok... five minutes left. Tic... Tok... Tic... Tok... four minutes left... Come on Algebra! Finish quicker!Tic... Tok... Tic... Tok... three minutes left, Two.... One.... Hooray!She shut down the computer as quickly as possible and ran out-side to the fresh, breezy summer air. She inhaled deeply to get used to the outdoors, she doesn't go out much since she's always busy with her school work, she wouldn't be without her extra careful mother.She loved her mother. She's the only family she's got; no brother, no sister, no dad... she misses her dad, but sadly he went to military business a few years ago and he.... he never came back.'But if you kept thinking about the past, you'll never get to live the future' her mom always told her that ever since the.... accident happened, now she never thinks about anything bad that happened before, she just keeps calm and carries on!She laid down on the dewy grass, looking right up at the sunny sky, which was a big mistake. The sun shone so brightly that it blinded her temporarily. She immediately sat up and rubbed her hazel eyes till she saw clearly.... kind of.She looked around to test if she could see better, she could only see dots. The forest behind her house was just a bunch of different sized dots, the fence gate was more like long, thin lines instead of dots. She saw a giant dot come walking to her, she blinked a few times till she found out that the dot was her mom."Hello, mother" she said trying to put on a fake British accent, which she failed at. "Emilia Catherine Hart, what are you doing out here?" she asked, "just getting some fresh air, mom. It is summer vacation" Emilia said in a matter-of-factly tone. "I mean, aren't you supposed to finish your Algebra class with Mr. O'lary?" she demanded, "well, we finished classes" she told her as she laid back down on the grass and looked back up at the sky... and then the whole seeing dots episode repeated.She sat up again and blinked till she almost saw her mother, wow, even partly blinded you could still see her angry. "mom!" she whined, "don't look at me like that!" she got her vision back and saw her mom red-faced from both anger, and heat."Listen dear, just go inside. it's too hot." she said to her daughter, who was shocked at her mother's words. "I never heard of a mom telling her thirteen-year-old daughter to go inside and use the computer!" she exclaimed, she was really was shocked, usually the mother would tell her teenage child to go out side and leave the computer, but this is the total opposite!"Come on sweetheart, just go inside where I know you'll be safe" she begged, Emilia could hear a tint of sadness in her voice, she got up and walked over to her mom, who was on the verge of tears, and hugged her. Ever since her dad left, her mom was always worried about her safety, even if she was in the backyard - she gets worried because of the forest behind it. Whenever she left the house, she took Emilia with her - afraid of the people close by, although they live no where near people or the city for miles."Its ok mom, I miss him too" Emilia said, also on the verge of tears as well, but held them back and comforted her mom instead. After ten minutes of comforting and cheering up they both went inside, she decided to go look for sketches online, she's not a great artist.... she's not an artist at all, but just because her mother got her a sketch pad and some fancy colored pencils for her birthday last year, so she decided why not? trying new things is always a new safe adventure, she told herself and went to her bedroom and got her MacBook from her desk that was under the window, to her queen sized bed, it had a white head board - nothing too fancy - and had light purple sheets, like a lavender-lilac color and lots of throw pillows that she made, it was supposed to be a school project, but she kind of carried away. oh well...She typed in the password and saw her screen saver, it was her and her mom, they were hugging a person in the middle, but his face was cut off... it was her dad. She remembered when her dad was gone, she cut off his face so she wouldn't miss him as much. At times, it worked. Other times, not a bit.She went into Safari and looked up some websites for art inspiration, she found a blog called; Ray's Days (sorry couldn't think of a name) she opened the page and was immediately greeted with loads and loads of amazing art work, some of people, some of animals, some of mythical creatures, and some things she couldn't tell what it was. I could never draw like this!, she thought, she kept looking at the pictures on the website... it was amazing, she look at the side of the blog and saw info of that person;Hi I'm Ray, I'm 13 and live in Malibu, California. All drawings you see here are drawn by me. Any requests just send them to me on a private chat, and have a good day :)Emilia read it over and over, that person is only thirteen and can draw like that? She read it one more time before deciding to ask that person some questions, she went into privet chat and clicked on 'New Message'. but it wouldn't let her unless she has an account, she immediately clicked on 'Sign In' and put the important things in like password, first and last name, Email.. all that stuff. All that was left her Username, she started thinking about a name, she didn't want to put her Nickname and a random number, she wanted to be creative.She kept thinking until she finally thought of a good user name, Andystar23.She chose Andy because thats her dads name, and star because her dad always told her 'you're always going to be that shining star that lights up the whole night sky', and she put 23 because that was her birthday, 23/12/2000, yes her birthday was two days before Christmas but that never changed anything, that day was the only day that she and her family got together. She missed those days.After she made her account, she went into private chat and clicked on 'New Message' and decided to start;Andystar23: Hey excuse me but I have a few questions.She started and got immediate responseRay's_Days: Hey 2 u 2Andystar23: well i was just wondering how did u learn 2 draw like that?Ray's_Days: when i was 9 i started drawing random stuff then i taught myselfAndystar23: how?Ray's_Days: i just kept trying and slowly it workedAndystar23: really? that seems impossibleRay's_Days: well it was hard but then it got easyAndystar23: ok well thank youRay's_Days: your welcome anything else?Andystar23: no thank youAndystar23: well it was nice meeting uRay's_Days: meeting me? u don't even know anything about meAndystar23: yes i doRay's_Days: o really?Andystar23: yes u r 13 and live in Malibu and.... thats allRay's_Days: and all i know is that u r andystar23Andystar23: well lets get 2 know about each otherRay's_Days: ok how old r u?Just as she was about to respond her mom walked in to check on her, she saw that Emilia had her MacBook and wondered what she was doing, she usually uses the Desktop down stairs unless she has something private or just wanted to stay in her room, "hey sweetheart, what are you doing?" she asked sweetly, "nothing mom, just... ok ok you got me I was just talking to someone" she blurted out. "Ray's Days? who's she?" her mother asked "she?" Emilia asked "yeah, Ray is a girls name, didn't you know?" she asked, Emilia just shook her head "well Andystar23" her mom said "I'm not going to delay you anymore, have fun" she walked out of the room to give her daughter some privacy, for the rest of the day Emilia kept texting Ray, I think I made a new friend, she thought.

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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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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

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Thursday 21 May 1829

5 1/2

11 55/60

Breakfast at 6 10/60 off at 6 3/4 – at the lecture room in 50 minutes – 10 minutes before the lecture began which lasted an hour from 7 1/2 by the lecture room clock – then for 1/2 hour walked about the jardin, to the belle vue, having call[e]d at M. Desfontaines house and being unable to get in – went into the lecture room again at 9 and sat reading the Leçon for today the 12th – Chemical lecture from 9 20/60 to 10 50/60 concluding with the experiment of reducing liquid gaz acide sulfureux to its natural state of gaz permanent in which process some mercury under an exhausted receiver that ought to have been frozen, was hot, on account of the heat of the atmosphere – vide leçone 12[me] page 8 at the bottom – the smell of the sulphur was very bad – said M Langier to me on coming away when I spoke to him you see what it is to attend chemical lectures – the botanical lecture on Tuesday and today interesting –

On Tuesday (on the growth of the wood, canal Medullaire etc. vide Mérat’s botany page 38 et seq. to 45) after the lecture was over (on Tuesday) went up to the table, and asked M. Desfontaines the question with what matter was the trace of the character on the wood filled up (vide Mérat page 45) and why did this matter look flackish so as to contrast stronger with the rest of the wood – he answered very civilly, and at some length tho[ugh] I w[a]s n[o]t in fact m[u]ch the wiser for it – To day we h[a]d slight recapitulation of the last lecture about the canal médullaire, etc. and more particularly on the growth of the wood etc. vide page 47 Mérat – M. Desfontaines enlarged upon ringing fruit trees to hasten the maturity of the fruit (we lash walnut trees in England to make them bear) and upon peeling oak trees for some time before felling as we did in England to strengthen the timber for shipping building – proved that the life of a tree was chiefly in the bark – had remarks on cambium (vide Mérat p[age] 46) quite supported the doctrine as given in Mérats note – on piercing poplars in the spring and it was the same with other trees, a stream of pure water rushed out when the gimlet reached i.e. pierced the couche of wood enclosing the moelle – this water on rising would be elaborated by the leaves and returned as good sap or ambium? to increase the growth of the tree – when we cut sycamores too late in the spring, I have seen this water rising in little bubbles equally all over the trunk, not in the middle only –

Got home in 52 minutes at 11 55/60 – found Dr Tupper here, evidently come to say we might his apartment now if we liked – declined it – said I had made up my mind to have a spare room for a friend, and therefore the apartment would be too small – came to my room as soon as he went at 12 20/60 – was just dozing when Mrs Barlow came and sat with me till 2 1/2 – came to say that Préauz her servant Ferdinande’s husband wished much to live with us – has 600 francs a year at present at a restaurant – would come to us for 450 not including washing, wine, etc. on mentioning it afterwards to Madame Galvani, she said it was the ordinary gage for a cuisinier – said ‘I would think about it – Madame Galvani to come at 2 1/2 -

Met her down stairs at near 3 by our clock (1/4 hour too soon) and took her in a fiacre to no.357 rue Saint Honoré to see the apartment I saw yesterday – an hour there – she delighted with it – long talk with the proprietor – said he would take 4500 francs a year – the sol pour livre de portier and eclairage (stairs lighted with gas) would come to about 9 p.c the tax for doors and windows would be I guessed about 50/. so that we might count upon 500 in addition to the rent – said I would consider about it – and write my answer tomorrow or the day after - Then took Madame Galvani to see M. Séne’s apartment in the rue neuve Saint Augustin could not see the premier – the lady had objected to its being shewn, because it was agreed it should not be shewn – saw the 2nde which is undergoing repairs – poor looking concern after the other apartment –

Got home in 1 1/2 hour about 4 1/2 – Madame Galvani sat with me 1/2 hour – dictated a note to the proprietor declining his apartment rue Saint Honoré – said I the furniture would cost 2000/. a year – then the apartment would be altogether 7000/. far too much to give when my aunt could not see comfortably – then wrote all this journal of today which took me till after 6 – Dinner at 6 1/4 – M. Forest came at 7 1/4 and dressed my hair in 1/2 hour

with black gauze gold embroidered ribband put on in boughs nice enough. Mrs Decantes came at twenty minutes past eight by the Tuileries instead of quarter before eight and dressed me in about twenty minutes, my gown too long but I looked tolerably well altogether. Went in to my aunt staid some time with her then came to my room walked about for ten minutes practising how to come in to a room and make a courtesy etc. etc. I have done this last night or two, anything but pleasure this going by ones self, not agreeable. Had thought this morning and last night of writing and asking the Count de Noe but then again thought it better not. Let me rough it by myself and try what I can do, spirited myself up. Rather nervous about it as I went but really very little so considering, luckily or the contrary, I was the very first nobody but Lady Stuart in the room for a minute. Then came two ladies and a gent the old lady a Mrs Sheldon? mother of the young and we went in to the greenhouse and I talked enough to set me at ease.

Miss Hobart did not come of some time and she really behaved very well, quite attentive enough to satisfy me. She introduced me to Mrs Hamilton just as I was coming away, Mrs Hamilton being then only just arrived. Did not think so much of her tonight nor would I have tried whether she would have chosen to talk to me when I had not Miss Hobart at my elbow. Miss Hobart walked out with me and called one of the servants to order my carriage and left me. She had shaken hands on meeting and done all that was proper on my coming away as we entered the anteroom so did the Hagermans Miss Hobart stopt to speak to her sister saying go in to the conservatory and you will see a lady in red with white feathers and that is Lady Stuart. Ah, thought I, I may be satisfied your manner has been quite as considerate to me as it seems to be to your sister who is, by the way, a little unstylish and plain, almost rather vulgar looking little person a bad edition of Mrs Foster he an insignificant looking little man not much taller than his wife and not near so tall as I am heartily glad to have got it over so well so on after Miss Hobart came down a sort of small octagon table with a cloth cover on was brought through the room ‘what can that be for’ said Miss Hamilton to herself but as if turning to me for ecartee said I ‘not a square table for ecartee’ said she voila the only bad hit I made and there near an hour I think I did very well and ought to be satisfied –

Off to the embassy at 9 20/60 by the Tuileries – not a soul in the room when I was ushered in but Lady Stuart – very civil to me – Miss Hobart not down stairs – a Mrs Sheldon, and her daughter, married to a French man? and a French gentleman came – then a [cte] (I think but he was a general) de Vincent, and we walked into the conservatory and for a moment beyond it into the open air – I talked a little to Mrs Sheldon and her daughter and the Frenchman with them, and a little to Lady Stuart and got on very well till Miss Hobart came – she very sufficiently attentive – could not catch the names of many – but the duchess de Coigny (a slim nice looking young English woman) sat next to Miss Hobart, or Miss Hobart next her for some time – I think Lady Alborough was there, and Lady Marcus Hill? etc. etc. – saw and spoke to bishop Luscombe – many apologies for his not better attention to his duty, but so much to do etc. etc. as usual – however will come on Saturday about 2 – Mr and Mrs Hamilton did not arrive till just before I came away – Miss Hobart introduced me to Mrs Hamilton as we passed through the conservatory – stopt to say a word or 2, and then Miss Hobart went with me to the anteroom and called a servant to order my carriage and then left me, and I was off at once after having been about or near an hour – much amused as it was – should have liked it exceedingly had I had anyone with me –

Got home at 10 1/2 by the Tuileries – stayed talking to my aunt about 10 minutes and then came to bed – In bed at 11 55/60 by my, pendule but in bed at 11 35/60 by the Tuileries – From this time I shall always in my journal go by the Tuileries clock very fine day – on going out with me Miss Hobart met her sister Madame Hagerman and her little husband – a little couple – but Miss Hobart that within these 8 years, since she saw them, they have 2 beautiful children – a boy and a girl –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #vere hobart #1829

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soundsgoodfeelsgood · 4 years

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Thursday 14th may, day 66

NOTE: i actually wrote this as a presentation letter to a guy on Slowly, but i really liked how it turned out so i thought “hm, might as well post this”. Here you go.

So here are 10 maybe-not-that-interesting facts about me.

1. My name in italian literally means "clear" and yet i have the same expression capability of a 5-year-old. It takes me forever to express myself in my native langue and I find it easier to speak in english, which can be quite a challenge when talking to my friends as you can imagine. Actually nobody calls me by my name, people usually refer to me by my surname, even my closest friends. (that's Cili if you where wondering, like red hot chili pepper)

2. In just a month i'll be graduating from high school and in september i'm going to start med school. I don't actually know why i'll be attending it since the very last thing i want to be when i grow up is a doctor. I have really, really low empathy so i don't think i could ever pull that off. Whant i want to be when i grow up is a resercher in neurosciences. There is nothing more fascinating then the human brain. I find utterly...disarming how everything we are, everything we do, all of our thought and movements are decided by how some tiny-iny particles of living matter interact with each other. The human body is the most beautiful of mysteries and everything it does is the result of a tiny miracle. I worship science. I love to find all the science that surrounds me and learn about it. And while i'm quite a thinker the subject i hate the most is philosophy. The only two authors i ever sincerely liked are Plato and Popper. The rest is garbage.

3. I have quite a memory. I perfectly remember stuff that has happened to me over 10 years ago. Like that one time when i was 8 and i was angry at my friend Dave so i started to throw comic books at him. Or how i used to go around my grandma's garden with my cousins dressed up in Sandocan costumes looking for pinecones that we would later smash in order to eat the pine nuts inside them. And how could I not mention when at 10 my friends and I organised a whole funeral for a ladybug that had drowned in their pool? we made this little raft out of a plastic plate, put the ladybug on it with some flowers and plants and then had a full celtic-like ceremony (we even wrote a eulogy). But the thing i remember the easiest are songs. I know hundres of thousands of song lyrics by heart. My playlist has over 600 songs and i can recognise any of them within 5 seconds (no kidding). Also i have the weirdest music taste. I like Queen as much as One Direction as much as early-2000s pop rock as much as indie as much as musicals. I believe music to be the expression of one's soul. Like, there are some songs that literally speak to the deepest part of me and if i didn't know any better i'd think they were written especially for me.

4. I'm an INTJ like Christopher Nolan, Elon Musk and Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes. I'm also a Ravenclaw even though Pottermore keeps putting me in Hufflepuff. As for the zodiac (in which i don't believe in but still read) i'm technically a scorpio but because i was born on the first day of scorpio at five past midnight, my zodiac-obsessed friend keeps telling me i'm a cusp which is something i had no idea existed until she pointed that out. As they say, you never stop learning.

5. I can solve rubik's cube in under a minute. My friend from robotics clubs tought me. Also, i'm in my schools robotics club. Last year we built a piano-playing robot and we're currently second in italy and forth in europe in our category. This year we were planning on going to the international competitions but then coronavirus happened so...yeah. Still, robotics is one of the best thing that has ever happened to me. Not for the club itself but for the people I met and for all the beautiful experiences and for that one time in october when we sneaked wine into our hotel room and the next morning i was so hungover i slept the whole day while tecnically competing.

6. I have a thing for alpacas. I don't know why, i think they're cute. I have a mug with an alpaca on it where i store my markers (i also have a thing for markers). One of my dreams is to see them in Machu Pichu (the alpacas, not the markers). I loooooooove travelling. It's the one thing i could never get tired of. I have an endless list of places i want to visit. My goal is to visit every continent before i turn 30 (the earlier, the better). So far i've been to North America (the USA, twice), Africa (Morocco and Egypt) and i've visited most european capital cities (London, Paris, Berlin, Madrid, Luxemburg, Bruxelles, and many other). As of right now there's Singapore on top of my list, immediatly followed by Peru. Travellig is such a unique experience. Every where you go there's always something new to learn and to discover. Different culture, different food, different languages. I adore languages of all kind. I'm fluent in italian (duh) and english (even tho i make tons of mistakes - i'm sorry), advanced in french and currently learning spanish.

7. I'm writing a book. Let me rephrase that - I'm writing a trilogy. It's actually a little more complicated than that to be honest. When i started high school i started writing this fairly awful teen-fiction-like novel and than i though to myself: why not make another book where i write the same exact story but from a different point of view and with a totally different style with no reason whatsoever? Five years later, i'm still not even halfway done with a first draft of any of the three books. I mostly use them as a creative outlet, something i do when i'm bored, just for the fun of it. But as stupid as they can be, they're still my creatures and i love them. Even though i'm sort of embarassed of them - no one i know has ever read them. I once tried to show the first few chapters to a group of friends and they still make fun of me for it (but they do it in that friend way that doesn't really offend, you know what i mean?). I just love words so much. I even have a list of favourite words written in my journal. Some exemples are "scrosciare", which is the italian word for the noise of heavy rain falling, and words that are what they mean, like obsolete and cacophonic.

8. if i were to write this last year, i'd tell you i don't believe in friendship. Now, my mind hasn't change that much, i still believe to have no friends in the way i consider a friend is supposed to be. And i know i talked about my friends quite s few times throughout this letter but i usually use this word in absence of something that better explains what i really feel. I'll try to make this as clear as i can. I struggle to make a connection with people. i always feel like people click with each other in misterious ways i have yet to understand. Most of those i identify as my friends are just the people i hang out with. There is no...spiritual connection? It's a little complicated to explain. As if at the beginning of times we were handed some instruction booklets on "human interaction and realtionships" and i lost mine, while everyone else carfully guarded theirs. The word that best describes what i think of most people is afecionado. I don't know where i read it but it pretty much explains it all - someone i feel affection for, but nothing else. I do have a best friend tho. I mean, best friend is quite a big word. I have a human being i feel more connected with in comparison to others. I’ve known him since forever and i hate him. I dont hate hate him as in i want him dead. I love him as a friend, he's a great friend. but i hate him as a human being. He's so goddam perfect it bothers me so much. Have you ever met someone that is just so annoingly good at any thing? well that's him.

9. I have never fallen in love. Not once. The last time i had a crush i was 11. This is what happens when you are an hopeless romantic who grew up reading love stories and at the same time a creepingly logical human. You have incredibly high expectations. And the only time i kissed someone it was more of a lips-touching-for-a-second kind of experience and we were both very much drunk (it was actually the first out of the three times in my life i ever got drunk, the third being the wine experience in october) When i first met said best friend everyone we knew shipped up ("shipped" as in the fandom term meaning two people should date) and there was a moment this summer when i thought i was developping feelings for him but it was just a second. And i may or may not have dreamed of dating this french guy i saw twice at a drama festival.

10. I love quotes. I think it's part of the memorising thing - learning quotes by heart. Songs, books, speeches, vines, stand up comedians. I also have a very weird sense of humor, basically anything makes my laugh like bad puns and dank memes. Anyway, i have this thing on my door where i write all the quotes i like. Mostly they're from songs, but i also have two from Dante's Divine Comedy. In italy we study it our third year of high school and my teacher is so obsessed with it that she made us learn over 200 verses by heart.

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biofunmy · 5 years

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Dogs Can’t Help Falling in Love

TEMPE, Ariz. — Xephos is not the author of “Dog Is Love: Why and How Your Dog Loves You,” one of the latest books to plumb the nature of dogs, but she helped inspire it. And as I scratched behind her ears, it was easy to see why.

First, she fixed on me with imploring doggy eyes, asking for my attention. Then, every time I stopped scratching she nudged her nose under my hand and flipped it up. I speak a little dog, but the message would have been clear even if I didn’t: Don’t stop.

We were in the home office of Clive Wynne, a psychologist at Arizona State University who specializes in dog behavior. He belongs to Xephos, a mixed breed that the Wynne family found in a shelter in 2012.

Dr. Wynne’s book is an extended argument about what makes dogs special — not how smart they are, but how friendly they are. Xephos’ shameless and undiscriminating affection affected both his heart and his thinking.

As Xephos nose-nudged me again, Dr. Wynne was describing genetic changes that occurred at some point in dog evolution that he says explain why dogs are so sociable with members of other species.

“Hey,” Dr. Wynne said to her as she tilted her head to get the maximum payoff from my efforts, “how long have you had these genes?”

No one disputes the sociability of dogs. But Dr. Wynne doesn’t agree with the scientific point of view that dogs have a unique ability to understand and communicate with humans. He thinks they have a unique capacity for interspecies love, a word that he has decided to use, throwing aside decades of immersion in scientific jargon.

“Dog Is Love” is one of several new books on dogs out this year, and one of a flood of such books over the last decade or so. Brian Hare, an evolutionary anthropologist and researcher of dog behavior at Duke University, who founded the Duke Canine Cognition Center, recently wrote that there are 70,000 dog books listed on Amazon.

Since 2000, around the time dog research had a resurgence, a small but significant number of those books are written by scientists for a general audience. Like Dr. Hare’s “The Genius of Dogs,” published in 2013, the books address what is going on in a dog’s heart and mind. Most emphasize the mind.

Dr. Wynne’s book runs counter to Dr. Hare’s when it comes to the importance of dog’s thinking ability, which Dr. Hare sees as central to their bond with humans. By using the L word, Dr. Wynne may well appeal to the many besotted dog owners. But he may also disappoint. The reason dogs are such “an amazing success story” is because of their ability to bond with other species, he said. Not just humans.

Raise a dog with sheep and it will love sheep. Raise a dog with goats and it will love goats. Raise a dog with people … you know the rest.

Some now extinct wolves attached themselves to humans 15,000 years ago or longer because we had good leftovers, or so the dominant theory goes, although what actually happened is lost to time. Apparently, humans liked the renegade wolves quite a bit and eventually started controlling their breeding and letting them sleep on down coverlets.

Now, as Dr. Wynne said in a talk at the International Canine Science conference in Phoenix in October, dogs are an astonishing evolutionary success. Wolves, not so much. “For every one surviving wolf on this planet, there are at least 3,000 dogs.” On the other hand, nobody puts a silly Halloween costume on a wolf.

In the early 2000s, when Dr. Wynne began research on dogs, one of his experiments was a follow-up on the work of Dr. Hare who had concluded that dogs were better than wolves or other animals at following human directions. In particular, dogs followed human pointing better than other animals. Dr. Wynne and Monique Udell, an animal behaviorist at Oregon State University, expected to confirm Dr. Hare’s findings.

The wolves they chose to work with were hand-raised and socialized at Wolf Park, in Lafayette, Ind. Dr. Wynne said he found the wolves were as good at following human pointing as the best pet dogs.

Dr. Hare and his colleagues responded by questioning whether the experiments were really comparable, maintaining that dogs have an innate ability to follow human pointing without the special attention the wolves were given. The debate continues.

The second part of Dr. Wynne’s argument has to do with how social dogs are. There is no question that they bond with people in a way that other canines do not. Dr. Wynne recounted an experiment showing that as long as puppies spend 90 minutes a day, for one week, with a human any time before they are 14 weeks old, they will become socialized and comfortable with humans.

Interestingly, the experiment found no genetic absolutism about the connection between dogs and humans. Without contact with humans when they are young, dogs can become as wary of humans as wild animals. Wolves are not so easily socialized. They require 24-hour-a-day involvement with humans for many weeks when they are puppies to become more tolerant of human beings. They never turn into Xephos.

Admittedly, Xephos is at the tail-wagging, face-licking, cozy-cuddling end of dog friendliness. Anyone who knows dogs can call to mind some that are not friendly at all, or are friendly to only one person. But in general there is no comparison in friendliness between dogs and wolves.

“O.K., she’s not every dog, but she’s not radically atypical,” Dr. Wynne said of Xephos as she snuggled up to me. “Are you sweetie — you’re not completely untypical of your kind?”

The evidence of dog affection for humans goes beyond the observable actions of Xephos and those like her. Gregory Berns, a neuroeconomist at Emory University, who himself was drawn into animal study by wanting to understand what his own dog, Callie, was thinking, used magnetic resonance imaging machines to watch what was going on in their brains.

Among his findings is that the part of dogs’ brains that light up when they hear their owners’ voices is the same part of the human brain that lights up when we are fond of someone or something. His first book was “How Dogs Love Us.”

By looking at the lemon-sized dog brain, he has shown, for instance, that, based on how the reward center lights up, a dog likes praise as much as it likes hot dogs. In testing outside of the M.R.I., Dr. Berns has also found that, given a choice, some dogs prefer their owners to food.

He agreed that the hypersociality of dogs is what makes them special rather than particular cognitive abilities. “It’s hard to demonstrate any cognitive task that dogs are superior in,” he said. But he pointed out that “ultimately the difficulty is in saying what is a cognitive function and an emotional function.”

Alexandra Horowitz, head of the Dog Cognition Lab at Barnard College, and a prolific writer on dogs, also addressed the question of love briefly in her new book, “Our Dogs, Ourselves.”

Without doubt, dogs have feelings, she wrote, but she cautioned that just as certainly, those feelings were not the same as human feelings. Nor, she argued, should we assume that dogs are in between robot and homo sapiens on an emotional spectrum. She wrote in her book, “For all we know, dogs’ emotional experience is far more elaborate than ours.”

Central to that experience, although unknown in its complexity, is the pleasure a dog experiences in the presence of humans. The intensity of that pleasure and the ease of triggering it, Dr. Wynne said, is built into the dog genome.

He found this in his research with Bridgett vonHoldt, a molecular biologist at Princeton University. She and a team of researchers identified genes in dogs that in humans are associated with Williams-Beuren syndrome, a rare genetic disorder. One of the many symptoms of the syndrome is indiscriminate friendliness. Dr. Wynne and Ms. Udell worked with Dr. vonHoldt on a subsequent study of wolves and dogs that tied behavior and genetics together. They concluded that the genes associated with Williams-Bueren syndrome in humans underlie the friendless of dogs compared to wolves.

Humans, they suggested, may have selected friendly dogs over thousands of years of domestication and the Williams-Beuren genes may be one of the results. Other scientists have been cautious about the results, seeing the work as presenting an intriguing hypothesis that requires more research.

Whether these are the genes involved, humans appear to have molded dogs to be friendly to other species beyond humans. Apparently, puppies introduced to any other species when they are young enough, form a strong bond with that species.

This hasn’t been tested with all species, of course. But consider the sheep and goats. Ray Coppinger of Hampshire College, who died in 2017, had documented that puppies of certain breeds kept with sheep bond to the sheep. They stay with the flock and guard it. The same thing happens when puppies are kept with goats and other less likely creatures, like penguins.

Dogs have “an abnormal willingness to form strong emotional bonds with almost anything that crosses their path,” Dr. Wynne said. “And they maintain this throughout life. Above and beyond that they have a willingness and an interest to interact with strangers.”

How and when this free love, or hypersociality evolved in dogs is up for debate. Dr. Wynne is betting that after some ancient wolves began to associate with humans 15,000 or more years ago and became dogs, and humans began to live in settlements and farming took off about 8,000 years ago, humans began to breed dogs for friendliness, causing the genetic differences that Dr. vonHoldt found. With luck, future research on modern and ancient dog DNA will show if he is right.

For now, we humans can at least enjoy the amiability of dogs. Looking at Xephos as we wrapped up our conversation, he said, “It’s not strange that she wants to interact with me. What’s strange is that she wants to be friends with you. Right?”

Well, I don’t know about that. I’m a pretty good ear scratcher. “Right, Xephos?”

Sahred From Source link Science

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