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thecoleopterawithana · 5 years

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Knowing That Love Is To Share

It’s common knowledge within the Beatles fandom that those four Liverpool lads were an acquisitive bunch. And who could blame them, having grown amidst the financial insecurity of a war-torn Liverpool? Even John Lennon, who had inarguably the most comfortable upbringing of them all (middle rather than working-class) didn’t hide his thirst for wealth. In 1963, he was singing this out in their cover of ‘Money (That’s What I Want)’.

John coveted so much the freedom and power afforded by money that he even had dreams about it.

[I once had] one really big one about thousands of half-crowns all around me, and finding lots of money in old houses and just as much of the stuff as you could carry. I could never carry enough. I used to put it in my pockets and in my hands and in sacks, only I could still never carry as much as I wanted.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Alan Smith for New Musical Express: Beatle dreams (22 July 1966).

Curiously, in an early example of John and Paul “sharing in each other’s minds”, John had this dream of finding riches around the time he met Paul, who himself had an incredibly similar one.

The teenage Paul McCartney would love the idea of fame. That’s what he was trying to do, that was the dream. But it’s funny – life gives you minor premonitions. You don’t think of them as premonitions until the dream comes true and then you think, ‘Hey, I wonder if that was a sign.’ I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream, I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream.’ So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true.

— Paul McCartney, The Big Issue: Letter to my younger self (16 February 2012).

Of course, the love for the craft itself was there, but they never hid the thrill they got from being able to finally write their wealth into existence.

Somebody said to me, ‘But the Beatles were anti-materialistic.’ That’s a huge myth. John and I literally used to sit down and say, ‘Now let’s write a swimming pool.’ We said it out of innocence. Out of normal, fucking working-class glee that we were able to write a ‘swimming pool.’ For the first time in our lives, we could actually do something and earn money.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by David Fricke for Rolling Stone (8 February 1990).

I introduce this – their love of money – because it might have made them avaricious when they finally got it. That’s not what happened.

I'll give you all I've got to give If you say you love me, too I may not have a lot to give But what I've got I'll give to you I don't care too much for money Money can't buy me love

— ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ (1964)

Paul – used to making ends meet from early on – grew up to be fairly money-conscious. This kind of preoccupations had always been on his mind, especially since his mother (who was the main provider for the family) had died.

Being able to get by is a big deal for him.

That’s why I am always overwhelmed by the sweetness of his wonderment at John’s generosity. It is one of my most treasured facets of their relationship.

One day we walked into a sweet shop, and John bought some chocolate. He said, ‘would you like half?’ I said, ‘Wow, you’re willing to share your chocolate with me?’ What a dude! [laughs] The things that stay most in my memory are the smallest things, the ordinary things.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed for Readers Digest (November 2005).

And as good as this quote is, it omits the true significance of this episode. Paul reveals just how much it meant to him in private company.

[Bono’s] like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says ‘That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, ‘That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, ‘That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, ‘What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, ‘John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (8 July 2013).

“That’s why the Beatles started.”

I’ve seen it emphasised how Paul was drawn to John because he was impressed by his powerful charisma, his biting wit, his rough teddy looks. But Paul himself has stated over and over that what attracted him to John – what won him over in the end – was the underlying softness. It was the humour and intelligence, yes. But it was also that John’s favourite songs were “Close Your Eyes” (1933) and “Little White Lies” (1930). It was the fact that John gave him not a bit, not a square, not a quarter, but half of his chocolate bar.

I may not have a lot to give but what I've got I'll give to you

These giving gestures would continue on other treasured episodes, like the ‘61 Paris Trip.

And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just cancelled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Elliot Mintz (1 January 1976).

John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us, John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It's ironic, he was always very 'fuck you!' and he wrote the song Working Class Hero – in fact, he wasn't at all working class. Anyway, one of John's relatives gave him £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? 'Let's go on holiday.' 'You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I'm part of this windfall.'

[...]

We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

— Paul McCartney, in The Beatles Anthology (1995).

One night, they went to a concert by France’s only rock'n'roll star, Johnny Hallyday, paying an astronomical seven shillings and sixpence (35p) each for seats at L'Olympia theatre, little dreaming they themselves would soon top the bill there.

— On John and Paul’s trip to Paris. In Philip Norman’s Paul McCartney: The Biography.

Of course, Paul also gave what he could, and that rendered the gift extra special.

JOHN: Paul got me a wimpy [a hamburger] and a coke for my 21st.

PAUL: Mind you, that was back in ‘39!

JOHN: I know! (laughter)

PAUL: (jokingly) They were more expensive.

— Sydney press conference (11 June 1964).

And even later in 1966, despite being extremely hurt by Paul’s extramarital forays into film score composition, John still offered his financial support.

I copped money for ‘Family Way’, the film music that Paul wrote while I was out of the country making How I Won The War. I said to Paul, ‘You’d better keep that,’ and he said ‘Don’t be soft.’ It’s the concept - we inspire each other. We write how we write because of each other. Paul was there for five or ten years and I wouldn’t write like I write now if it weren’t for Paul, and he wouldn’t write like he does if it weren’t for me.

— John Lennon, interviewed by BP Fallon for the Melody Maker (1969).

While they were bound by name (and even before any official contracts were signed) Lennon/McCartney did live by “what’s mine is yours”, everything they created shared 50/50.

As Paul would put it in their beloved “Here There and Everywhere” – Paul’s favourite out of all his songs and the one John favoured most of all out of all the songs he’d heard since he’d been in the scene, as of 1966 – they knew that love is to share.

And even when the sharing stopped, the love continued.

#the beatles #John Lennon #Paul McCartney #McLennon #knowing that love is to share #That attracted me to him #I don't care too much for money #frankly i miss paris #here there and everywhere #the person I actually picked as my partner #macca #johnny #my stuff #meta #(I think about this to make myself happy sometimes when the angst becomes too much...)

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fancat-not-fangirl · 4 years

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It’s Not You Pt.4

a/n: okie dokie here’s part four

I honestly didn’t think that I’d binge write four chapters in one day but, hey, life’s full of surprises :)

Cas was never more glad in his life that he’d talked to Sam about their soulmate issue. After both of them decided that they’d just be friends, Cas’s life became much easier. And, he wasn’t going to lie, it also became much more fun.

Sam introduced him to some of his friends. There was Bobby, a senior at the college, who knew absolutely everything about every subject imaginable. Cas liked him, and they’d often spend hours discussing topics far more interesting than knitting and crocheting. Then there was Kevin, a sophomore. Cas and Kevin hit it off immediately, as both boys preferred the company of books than that of people. There was also Charlie, a freshman like Cas. Sam was obviously very close with her, and after a while Cas started viewing her as a younger sister. Unlike Cas, she was extremely talkative, and was very interested in gaming and computers, everything Cas was not. Despite this, she was very adorable and Cas enjoyed his time spent with her.

Sam himself was great. Once they got past the initial awkwardness of their situation, Cas and Sam became inseparable. They’d spend hours watching movies or just simply talking together. Cas told Sam about his mother and her love for crochet. He also told Sam about how lonely he felt back at home, and how glad he was that he now had friends at college. Sam, in turn, told Cas about his own family. How his mother had died in a house fire when he was still a baby, and his father had moved them around the country a lot, slowly becoming an alcoholic.

What Cas noticed Sam talked the most about was his brother. Dean Winchester. The brother who practically raised Sam. Cas’s roommate never had a bad thing to say about him. Sam would bring him up whenever he could. They’d be studying for a test and Sam would tell Cas about how Dean would help him make flashcards for tests when he was a kid. Then Sam and Cas would be eating in the cafeteria and Sam would launch into a story about a time Dean took a bet and ate seven hamburgers in a row, thus earning the Winchester brothers $50. Bobby would sometimes join into these stories, and Cas soon realized that the senior was a close family friend of the Winchesters. Bobby and Sam would go on and on about Dean, and Cas was starting to get curious about this famed brother of Sam’s.

Out of interest, Cas had asked Sam what his brother’s soulmate name was. Sam blushed and told Cas that his brother never showed him, preferring to keep it a secret. Cas for the life of him couldn’t figure out why he was disappointed.

When asked about his own family, Cas was a little reluctant to share. Unlike Sam, all Cas’s brothers did was fight and play pranks on each other. But, Sam didn’t seem to mind. To Cas’s surprise, Sam enjoyed listening to the drama that went on in the Novak house. He gaped, wide-eyed, when Cas told him about the time his two older brothers, Michael and Lucifer, got into it one night, resulting in a broken rib and punched out teeth. He was shocked when Cas told him about how Raphael walked out on his family as soon as he got to 16. He giggled and laughed when Cas told him about the time Gabriel had dyed their milk green for St. Patrick’s Day and videotaped the family as they simultaneously shrieked at the sight of the odd colored milk the next day.

If he was being honest, remembering those stories made Cas miss his brothers, who he didn’t think about often. It’s not as if he didn’t love them. No, Cas loved his family a lot. But he could do without the drama.

Which was why when Sam proposed that on Columbus Day (when there were no classes) they invite their families to campus, Cas hesitated.

“C’mon, Cas. It’ll be fun! I’ve been dying to meet your relatives!”

And because Sam gave him those big puppy dog eyes, and because Cas himself was curious about meeting Dean Winchester, he agreed. But, knowing that having his entire family in one room would be chaos, he convinced Sam to let him invite only one of his brothers. The obvious choice was Gabriel, who after the promise of free food agreed to go.

***

The day arrived, and Gabriel was late. Cas wasn’t surprised, though. Gabe never made it anywhere on time. Dean, on the other hand, pulled up to the college at 11am sharp in a gleaming black 1967 Chevy Impala. Cas admired the flashy car from the window of his dorm and tried to contain his excitement. He was finally going to meet this Dean Winchester. Sandwich Maker Extraordinaire. Professional Car Fixer. Best Big Brother in the Whole Entire World Dean Winchester.

Sam evidently was also trying to contain his excitement. But in his case, he was failing. Miserably. He was pacing the room, straightening and restraightening his books. The bed had been made at least seven separate times now, each time looking no different than the last. Cas saw Sam glancing at his half of the room every so often, and to ease his roommate’s mind, Cas remade his bed and reorganized his books twice. Just in case.

A knock on the door. Sam was grinning like a maniac and almost squealed with excitement as he bounced across the room.

“You’re gonna love him!” He mouthed to Cas and opened the door.

Well shit.

Sam might have been more right about that than he thought.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel novak #gabriel novak #college au #soulmate au #destiel fic #it's not you

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onlovestreetwithjimmorrison · 6 years

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The Doors 4th of July Story - 2018.

The Doors – Fourth of July 2018 story

It was fourth of July weekend and Jim sat on the balcony of the house he was renting with the other 3 Doors. His leg propped up on a chair. “OMG finally someone here to help me. I thought I was going to die out here alone!”, Jim said when he saw John. John responded, “Shut up Jim. You are not going to die out here. How is your leg?” Jim said, “What do you think? It hurts like hell. I can't believe I broke it. I'm suing the company who makes the kiddy pool I fell in.”

Just then Robby came out on to the balcony and looked at Jim, “Man you were drunk off your ass. That's why you have a broken leg. You tripped and fell over that damn plastic kid pool. Why the fuck did you buy that thing anyway? You are way too big for it.” Jim glared at Robby and said, “Quit calling me fat! How many times do I have to tell you I am not fat, I am hefty! Hefty sounds sexy.” John looked at Robby and choked out, “I think I just threw up in my mouth. I don't know which is worse that he calls himself hefty or that he thinks he is sexy.” Robby nodded, “For me its calling himself sexy.”

Ray appeared with bags full of food, “I got the cookout food. Jim, move you're blocking the grill.” Jim looked at Ray, “I can't fucking movie. Do you see this neon green cast on my leg?” Ray put the bags down and said, “Yes. I can't help but see it. Damn thing practically glows in the dark.” John scratched his head and said, “Um should we get back to rehearsals. We have to start recording our follow up to L.A. Woman when we get back next week.”

Jim glared at John, “Oh hell no. I can't sing. I am injured. I cannot rehearse and I cannot record either until my leg is better. I can't stand.” Robby said, “OMG Jim you do not have to stand to sing. You can sit. Hell we'll drag the fucking couch into the recording booth so you can sit and sing comfortably.” Jim responded, “My voice doesn't work as well sitting down. I need to stand to record and I can't because of my leg. Don't you people understand that?”

Ray ran his hand through his blonde hair and said, “Yes Jim, we know. You broke your fucking leg because you were drunk and tripped over a blue plastic kiddy pool.” Jim looked at Ray and said, “I can't wait until we go back on The Jerry Springer Show next month so I can talk about this and how insensitive everyone is being. Did you get my Burger King when you were out?” Ray stood up, “No Jim! We're cooking on the grill. I did get your liver and onions.” Jim clapped for joy.

John began grilling the burgers and hot dogs. Jim sat in his chair and said, “Do not burn my liver and onions.” Robby said, “Shut up Jim! If you can't cook your own food then don't complain.” Jim ran his hand through his messy hair and said, “I can't my damn leg is broken.” Ray sighed and said, “Jim, you are ruining this vacation for everyone. Your constant complaining is making all of us miserable.” Jim stroked his beard and said, “How do you think I feel? I am in pain, its hot as hell, and my fucking leg itches.”

Robby walked over to the grill and flung a hot dog at Jim. Jim caught it and said, “Not liver and onions, but it will do. Thanks man!” John said, “OMG he wasn't doing that to be nice. He was doing it hoping to hit you.” Jim threw the half of the hot dog he hadn't ate at John hitting him in the eye. John cried out, “My eye! You did this on purpose. Now I have to wear a patch over it.” Jim said, “And even then you won't get girls. I have a broken leg and yet girls still want me! Except I have my Sarah so I don't need any girls.”

Jim, John, Robby and Ray all sat down on the deck to eat their fourth of July dinner. Ray looked on in disgust as Jim happily ate his liver and onions. Robby said, “Can't you eat a hamburger like the rest of us?” Jim grunted, “No. If I can't have my Burger King this is the next best thing. What are we having for dessert?” John said, “We aren't even finished with the meal and you want dessert?” Jim smiled and said, “I am a growing boy. I need to eat. Besides Sarah lets me have all the dessert I want.” Ray said, “Well good for her, but we're not your girl so if you want something get it yourself.” Jim rolled his eyes and said, “OMG I fucking can't. I have a broken leg. Do you people not understand that?” Robby threw his fork down in disgust as he said, “Jim this is getting WAY out of hand. Every other thing out of your mouth is about that damn broken leg. I'm about ready to take Ray's steak knife and amputate your damn leg.”

Jim got up as quickly as he could and hobbled back into the house. As he closed the door he said, “I hate you Robby. I shouldn't have to live in fear like this.” The door slammed shut and immediately opened. Jim stuck his head out and said, “If you cut my leg off I won't be able to sing and this band will be up a creek without me!” John said, “What is that supposed to mean?” Jim rolled his eyes and said, “Well none of you can sing and honestly 5 year olds write better songs than any of you. And none of you are lookers so the girls sure as hell aren't coming to see anyone of you. I mean what girl in their right mind would want John? They are there to see me! Of course I have my Sarah so I don't want them, but its still nice they come.”

Jim hobbled back outside as Robby said, “I don't know why they come to see you. Your hair stinks and is so matted because you wash it about once every 3 months.” Jim ran his hand through his tangled hair and said, “It does not.” Ray spoke up, “Jim stop running your hand through your hair you just make the smell worse every time you do it.” Robby said, “Geeze I wish you'd shave your head or something. Maybe while you're sleeping we'll shave your head for you.” Ray and John grinned. Jim glared and said, “No one is shaving my head. I like my hair and so do the girls.” Ray pointed at Jim with his fork and said, “Yeah well with that receding hairline you've got going on you're going to have to shave it off one day or you're going to look really stupid. Get Sarah to help you when the time comes.”

John squealed, “What the hell is this white stuff on my food?” Robby leaned over and said, “Looks like dandruff from Jim's nasty hair.” Jim glared, “OMG I have a broken leg. What don't you understand about that? I can't wash my hair. I can't take a shower. None of you have any sympathy for me.” Ray slammed his fist on the table and said, “Jim, you haven't bathed in well over 2 months. Long before you broke your leg. Just admit it, you have poor hygiene. John can't eat his damn food because of your dandruff.” Jim said, “I want John out of the band. He doesn't contribute anything.” Robby said, “Explain?” Jim said, “Well you write songs, they suck but at least you contribute. Ray kind of holds us together and one time he filled in for me when I was in the hospital because I pretty much ingested everything that was given to me. So he can sing. John does absolutely nothing.” John knocked over his tea has he stood up and said, “I do more than you Jim. You show up late, you're dirty and you smell and now you're making a big deal about your broken leg which is you're own damn fault. Maybe if you weren't so hefty it wouldn't have broke!”

Jim threw his pudding at John, “That's it. Either he goes or I go and you know this band is crap without me.” Ray said, “Jim we'll discuss this after fireworks. I know you like those!” Jim said, “I do, but I'm not watching them with John. This 4th of July sucks. I have a broken leg and have a crappy band member who won't leave. And I have to sue the makers of that damn plastic pool. Its their fault my leg is broken. Stupid product.”

It was 11pm and Jim and The Doors had just finished watching fireworks. Jim pouted, “The didn't have any blue ones. I like blue fireworks. They match my eyes.” John rolled his eyes, “Are you kidding me? You like fireworks that match your eyes?” Jim glared at him and said, “Get packing. You're out of here. This band can survive without you, but it can't without me. Bye!” John said, “I am leaving. I want to be in a band where everyone does something. You don't do shit Jim. All you do is write songs, you can't even play an instrument. And the songs you write...like seriously Light My Fire, what the hell is that crap?” Robby screamed, “I wrote that song!” Jim threw his half eaten cookie at John and yelled, “You are so insensitive. You have not once told me you are sorry I broke my leg.”

John responded, “OMG you were drunk when you fell. And you had no business buying that damn kid pool. You're too fat to fit in it anyway!” Jim screamed, “I am not fat I'm hefty! Get out of this band. I don't want to see you again. If you don't leave I will.” John said, “How you can barely walk with that damn leg.” Robby and Ray started laughing hysterically.” Jim slammed his fist on the table and said, “I am serious. John leaves or I do and like I have said before this band is crap without me! Damn it John leave this fucking band!” John looked at Robby and Ray and they both just shrugged their shoulders. Jim grinned and threw his hands in the air as he said, “I win! This is the best 4th of July ever! I'm going to write a song about it and in 3 months when this damn leg cast comes off I can record it.”

The End.

This is how I pictured Jim as I wrote the story.

#Jim Morrison #my baby #The Doors #4th of July story #2018

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countrymadefoods · 5 years

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“Giardiniera. (Say it with me, "jar-din-air-ah.") It's the quintessential Chicago condiment, one that's as brazen and boisterous as the city itself.This fiery mix contains some combination of pickled chiles, celery, cauliflower, carrots and olives submerged in oil. Like an edible exclamation point, giardiniera adds instant heat, crunch and acid to many of our city's iconic foods, including Italian beefs, Italian subs and deep-dish pizza.

Chef Paul Virant, of Vie Restaurant in suburban Western Springs, who included a recipe for giardiniera in his 2012 book, "The Preservation Kitchen," says that he didn't know about the dish until he moved to Chicago. "Being from St. Louis, you just didn't see giardiniera," he says.

As important as it is here, giardiniera wasn't invented in Chicago. It originated in Italy, where it means mixed pickles. Giardiniera also is the name for a female gardener, which is helpful insomuch as it alludes to the vegetables in the mix...giardiniera is the Italian way of preserving vegetables from the garden.”

“Though impossible to know the exact date, giardiniera undoubtedly appeared in Chicago along with the wave of Italian immigration that came to the city in the late 19th century. That's around the time V. Formusa Co., maker of the best-selling giardiniera brand, Marconi, opened...the company was founded in 1898 by Vincent Formusa, an immigrant from Termini Imerese, Sicily. "At first, he was importing oil and Italian produce...Then he got into the Sicilian method of preserving vegetables in oil."

“Using vinegar versus oil makes a huge difference in the finished product. "When it's packed in vinegar, it's an antipasti thing," says Graziano, best served with sliced charcuterie, olives or cheese. Graziano thinks of the Chicago-style giardiniera as more of a condiment.”

Since no condiment stands by itself, giardiniera needed a partner in crime before it could catapult to fame here. It found a home as the topping for Italian beef, the classic Chicago sandwich of thinly sliced roast beef that's often served with its roasting juices (or jus). "It's the perfect accompaniment for the Italian beef...That brightness and acidity really cuts through everything."

“While the Italian beef helped spread the gospel of giardiniera, people eventually started putting it on other foods.One thing everyone I talked to agreed on was that giardiniera is surging in popularity. The companies I talked to didn't have exact data on sales throughout the years but say the numbers have increased dramatically in the last decade.

"In the past 10 years, it's gone from a really niche Chicago thing to a national one," says Jeff Johnson, who estimates that V. Formusa sells around a million pounds of giardiniera a year. "First we saw a growth in the southern Chicago area, and now we are really growing across the country."

The Best Pizza Topping That You’ve Probably Never Heard About

“Giardiniera is a blend of chopped vegetables (celery, peppers, carrots, cauliflower, and sometimes olives, although they are a controversial element) pickled in vinegar. You can order giardiniera on pretty much everything in the Chicagoland area, and from anywhere, even national chains like Subway.”

“Zagat calls it “Chicago’s condiment,” but it’s also a full-blown obsession for many Chicagoans. “It’s good on pasta, it’s good on pizza, it’s really good on breakfast sandwiches,” Tibensky said. “And giardiniera with eggs? So good!” Just as Lebowski’s rug tied the room together, Chicago’s giardiniera is the linchpin of its daily meals—and the unsung hero of its famous pizzas. “This is a product that should be in the pantry of every house in America,” Randy Formella, who runs giardiniera company E. Formella & Sons, told me.”

(via The Best Pizza Topping That You’ve Probably Never Heard About | The Ringer)

Why Koreans Eat Pickles With Their Pizza

“For many Koreans, pizza is best served with pickles. The trend seems especially true among those much closer to Western cuisine — Korean Americans, for example — yet prefer a hint of something “familiar.”Pizza originated in Italy, and while there’s no rule telling what comes with it, many are puzzled why Koreans find pickles, of all possible choices, the perfect fit. Conventional side dishes include salad, garlic bread, cheese fries, mozzarella sticks and Buffalo wings, none of which obviously seems to match with pickles.”

“I did notice though that when Americans (or Canadians) talk about Pizza in Korea, they always wonder why it comes with a container of pickles (never mind the chunks of potato and whole sausage links on them). Some even act like it’s disgusting and that the combo makes absolutely no sense.”

youtube

“Koreans have a hard time with cheese and butter and other rich Western foods. It goes down better for us when there’s something to cut through the richness. My parents and grandmother used to come home and eat kimchi after a pasta or pizza dinner out. So the pizza companies give out the pickles for this purpose.”

“Koreans really DO eat the pickles with their pizza.”

“Now, I don’t know if you like pickles in your hamburgers, but as you probably know, there are many people who love eating pickles with, well, anything. Kimchi, as pickled vegetables, has a similar effect but is much more common in Korean culture.”

(via Why Koreans Eat Pickles With Their Pizza | NextShark)

GIARDINIERA

“You could call this the Italian equivalent of kimchi or sauerkraut, a seasoned pickled condiment that is often served with rich or fried foods to aid digestion.”

Recipe by: GIADA DE LAURENTIIS

#giardiniera #italianpickles #chicagogiardiniera #koreanpizza&pickles #pizza&giardiniera #iloveitalianfood

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whereintheworldisclairerans-blog · 7 years

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Heyyyyyyyy

WOW Sorry it’s been so long you guys! I’m currently sitting in my now 100% furnished and decorated apartment in Madrid, listening to the numerous buses and people talking to each other in the street in Spanish and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been here a little more than a week now and it’s starting to feel like I’m here to stay. Just in time for me to leave again! Ha. We’ll get there though. So very much catching up to do, I don’t even know where to begin. Probably where I left off would be good, would’t it? That would be... Hamburg? I think so.

Our direct train did, in fact, end up being a direct train *hooray*. Jordan and I were both extremely productive and sketched a plan for my apartment (which ended up being pretty accurate) and wrote out goals, aspirations, etc. After waiting outside of our AirBnb for a while because we didn’t know which doorbell to ring, we found ourselves living in the land of luxury with a.... wait for it.... KING SIZE BED. After sharing full size beds (and/or mattress on the floor or just straight up floor) for the month, it was pretty exciting to starfish out and each have plenty of room. We made our typical dinner of pasta and wine and each hung out on our respective social medias, got caught up on emails, etc. We woke up around noon the next day and decided to treat ourselves to brunch. Jordan, being the TripAdvisor master of the trip, found us the perfect little place that was a brunch BUFFET. I honestly don’t know why more brunch places at home aren’t like that. You pay for the plate and a drink and then you just pick whatever you want. You can eat and eat and eat and ITS AMAZING. After stuffing ourselves to the brim, we decided to walk it off and spent the day rambling through the city center. It was lovely because Hamburg reminded us both remarkably of Denver, just with a lot more water. There was very similar architecture and the general vibe just felt like home. It was simultaneously comforting and a little bit heartbreaking, given that I don’t know when I will be home next. *cries a little* We decided to go shopping for some warmer layers, and I mooned over a backpack in an outdoors store. Which, despite the best efforts of the salesman, I did not end up buying. We ended the afternoon in yet another gorgeous park with warm chocolate and banana crepes before walking the three miles back to our AirBnb. That night, we decided to double check the check-in time of our reservation for Berlin, hoping that we could go into the city earlier to make the most out of our time there. And it was then that we had our first and only issue with any booking or accommodation. The AirBnb host in Berlin had canceled our reservation the day after we booked it (several weeks earlier) and we were never notified. So in a scramble, we had to book another one, that ended up being way farther outside of the city and nearly twice the cost. (AirBnb has compensated me a little, but to say it was inconvenient would be an understatement). We couldn’t check into Berlin until 4pm, so we decided to hit the brunch place again the next morning and properly stuffed ourselves before getting on the train.

And what a train ride it was. German trains are such a joke. We had become quite the pros at arriving on time, finding seats together and getting settled before departure. This time, however, the train just continued to sit there and sit there. We didn’t care, we had music and seats and that was all that mattered. Until everyone started to leave the train. We rolled our eyes, cringed and prepared for another travel day like the one from Zurich to Cologne. Luckily though, we asked the people next to us what was going on. They explained that the train route had been changed and that it was no longer going to the Berlin Central Station, but to the West Station. If we wanted to, we could run with the other 500000 people to catch a train leaving in 5 minutes, or we could stay on this one and arrive slightly later. SURPRISE we stayed on the nearly empty train, which ended up going to the central station anyways. Suckers. We did, however, get in much later than we had anticipated and we had booked tickets to this film festival that one of Jordan’s favorite bands did the score for. So we hustled to the AirBnb, dropped all of our stuff and then immediately left again to the complete opposite side of town. We followed the hipsters from the train, to the bus, to this cool set of warehouses, where we arrived half an hour late but nothing had started yet. Beers and popcorn in hand, we chatted with a super nice Spanish girl for a while before taking our seats to watch the movies. The theme for the night was on politics, with a specific focus on the nuclear bomb, so the first movie was Dr. Strangelove and the second was a documentary called The Bomb. 10/10 would recommend seeing both. It was very powerful and a cool experience. The next day was the day we had been waiting for the whole trip, the only thing that we had booked before we left, the Moderat concert! It ended up being Jordan’s big hipster day out, that started with her getting a tattoo, then some kombucha (and a coffee for me) and then we walked around the East Side Gallery (art that was done along the wall in the 90s), before heading home to get ready for the show. We had originally planned to get there early, but you all know how that goes... So we ended up arriving with the massive hoards of people getting off the train, then casually walking through a forest to get to the venue, where we promptly stood in line for two hours waiting to get in. We completely missed the opening band, and the first few songs of Moderat’s set, but it was worth it once we were in. We were able to make our way down to the front of the massive venue and danced our asses off. And then we got a snack before the looooooong trek home, where we literally squeezed into the metro with thousands of other people (where I met a very nice Spanish woman) and then onto a bus, and then a long walk back to the apartment. It didn’t matter though because we were both in incredibly good moods and it felt like we were in 7th grade again, dancing in the street and obsessing over how good the show was.

The next day was our “historical Berlin” day, where we saw more of the wall, learned about the failed and successful escape attempts, and what life was like on the East side. From there we went to a museum called “Topography of Terror” which was quite frankly the most depressing and terrifying thing we did our whole trip and maybe in my whole life. Without getting too into it, it was a museum about how Hitler came into power, and a very thorough documentation of what he did with it. The scary part, though, was in how many parallels there were in 1930s-40s Germany and 2017 in America. Food for thought. To get ourselves even more depressed, we went to the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe, which was hauntingly beautiful. Our spirits were lifted though hearing the peals of laughter coming from the small children to whom the giants stones were nothing more than a playground, something for them to play “hide and go seek” behind. We decided to treat ourselves to Asian food for dinner, and went to this beautiful restaurant, that was full of upper middle class couples and playing rather explicit rap. It was an interesting evening. Our last day in Berlin was a pretty mellow one, traveling for a month was catching up to us and we spent the day chilling in a park and in a cute little coffee shop. That night we made ourselves our last plates of pasta and wine and binged Grace and Frankie.

AND THEN WE WERE OFF TO MADRID! A 4 hour flight and 3 metro trains later we arrived at MY APARTMENT! I cannot even begin to describe the relief that I felt at realizing that it was a real place, I hadn’t been scammed and that I really did have a place to live for the next few months. Jordan really didn’t feel well, so I left her sleeping and spent the day getting the immediate things we needed (AKA sheets and my credit card) and signing my lease. We ordered pizza to properly break in the apartment, and though it was rather loud that night in the apartment, definitely a wake up call to the fact that I voluntarily chose to live in international student housing, it has since gotten much better. The next day was the second day that we had been waiting for the entire trip - IKEA DAY! We took a half an hour long metro ride and then a 15 minute walk and loaded me up with (almost) everything I needed. It was a hilariously exhausting trip back, but we managed to carry everything that we bought in our hands, trekked back to the metro and then to my apartment. I am the kind of mover that likes to get everything done in one day, so I dragged Jordan out again and we had the BEST TIME. All that we had left to buy were hardware (screwdriver, fan, etc) and home goods (laundry detergent, trash bags), so we did some google mapping until we found what we thought was the perfect place. And then it was closed. Dejected, exhausted and done for the day, we started to make our way back home. We had passed this little store selling coffee makers and specialty coffee, and Jordan recommended that we stop in, knowing how much I need my morning fix. The guy who helped us was unbelievably friendly, and pointed us in the direction of a store two blocks away that would have everything else we needed. We went there next, to be helped by two more incredibly nice guys and got EVERYTHING. Arms full of shopping bags, we went to pick up some takeout for dinner and I realized that I had forgotten the one thing that I actually really needed, trash bags. I left Jordan with all the stuff, ran back into the shop to grab some and realized I didn’t have any cash. The machine could only do credit card transactions over $5, so the guy just let me take them and told me to just pay him tomorrow. Can you believe that?? I love this place.

The next day, after a few more shopping adventures, we decided to tourist around a little. First stopping at Atocha (the train station) to pick up our train tickets for Barcelona the next day, then going to el Retiro (park) and around downtown to get back home. We tried to get to bed early that night because our train left at 8am the next day, but naturally only slept for about 4 hours. We dragged ourselves out of bed, managed to make it to the train station on time, and 2.5 hours later we were in Barcelona! It was incredible to be back in the city that originally made me fall in love with Spain and we headed directly for the beach, where we spent the whole day listening to the familiar anthem of “Cervezaaaaaa beer agua waaaaaater cervezaaaaa sangriaaaa.” Jordan was not a fan, but I felt completely at home. It alternated between being sunny and cloudy all day, which made it the perfect temperature for swimming and laying. I was thrilled. It was dinnertime before I knew it, and we treated ourselves to a Menu del Dia, where Jordan had her first paella, patatas bravas and crema catalana. We were so relaxed that we nearly missed our last train, but we did in fact make it back to the apartment nearly 18 hours after left. We slept hard that night, and then it was Jordan’s last day. We spent our last few hours together relaxing, packed up her things, went to the store, and then had one last dinner and gelato. I went with her to the airport, and we sat together and looked at photos to kill time before we parted ways. I fought back tears the entire way home and then was greeted by all the roommates heading up to the terrace for a free drink. I decided to join them to try to be social, but wasn’t really in the mood and after a polite amount of time went back to bed.

I’ve spent the past couple days on my own running errands and getting settled in. I went for my first run around el Retiro, caught a gorgeous sunset along Gran Via, opened a bank account, joined a gym and am basically 100% settled in. I have a few more things to get done today, and then tomorrow I’m to Sweden for the weekend to visit Hanna! I can’t believe it, I got to see her just a few months ago in Colorado and now again! WOOO Europe is the best.

I’ll be there until Sunday, and then will spend next week doing more exploring of Madrid and maybe taking an overnight trip somewhere (since I have two travel days left on the Eurail pass whooo whooo). I’ll try to do better keeping you all posted!

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darnedchild · 7 years

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 - Day Four

A/N : Sorry this is so late, had some Real Life Stuff come up (which meant going out to eat dinner because I’m not gonna eat Hamburger Helper at home when I’m dealing with drama, you know?). Might not/probably won’t post this on FF.net or Ao3 until tomorrow because I need a nap and some chocolate. Unbeta’d, as per.

OH, before I forget - this one is probably a hard PG 13/light M for a tiny mention of wanking. Sorry.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 – Day Four (Non-Canon – First Sleepover/Sleep Together)

Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?

The first (and last) time Sherlock sleeps on Molly’s sofa was the night he jumps from the roof of Barts. The horrid piece of furniture is far too short for him, and not nearly as comfortable as the one he’d been forced to abandon at Baker Street. Beggars can’t be choosers, unfortunately; and he was lucky that Molly was willing to put him up for the night at all. If anyone knew he was in her home after he was supposed to have plummeted to his death, she would be in serious danger.

She shuffles past him at half seven, clearly on her way to the kitchen and the coffee maker. “You kept waking me up all night, I could hear you tossing and turning. Next time just take my bed.”

They both freeze. They had never discussed the possibility of a ‘next time’. He doesn’t know what to say; so he simply says, “All right.”

Molly nods and continues her barely-awake shuffle toward the coffee maker.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time he sleeps in Molly’s bed, he has been “dead” for over six months. He uses the key she’d slipped into his hand moments before he’d left for parts unknown after his fall, the one he’d hidden in a safe space that no one would ever think to look for.

She isn’t home, and a quick glance at the calendar on her desk confirms that she is on shift at Barts. He crawls into her bed, dead on his feet, and tells himself that he’ll wake up as soon as she comes through the front door. The last thing he wants is for her to find a short-haired half-naked ginger wrapped in her blankets and to scream the house down before calling the police.

He wakes up roughly eight hours later, to the sound of the shower coming on in the en suite bathroom. There is a bottle of water and a sandwich waiting on the bedside table.

By the time Molly walks into the bedroom wrapped in a bright purple robe, hair wet and stringy around her face, he has already devoured half the sandwich and is carefully holding the plate under his chin to keep the crumbs off her sheets.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, when you came home and saw me.”

“Why would I be scared?” Molly asks as she sat starts to dig through her dresser for something to change into.

Surely that was obvious. “Strange man in your bed?”

She turns toward the bed with a pair of yellow pyjamas covered with cavorting kittens held to her chest. “I knew it was you. I mean, I know you’re strange, but you’re not a stranger,” she tries to joke.

He swallows the last bit of sandwich and washes it down with some water. “How? I saw John on the street today, and he never gave me a second glance.”

Molly laughs, as if she thinks he’s joking. “Who else would be sleeping in my bed? The big bad wolf? No one else has a key.” She wags a chastising finger in his direction as she moves toward the bedroom door. “And you shouldn’t be anywhere near John. Mycroft would have your head if he knew.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The second time he sleeps in her bed is only a few weeks after he’s returned to London and officially came back from the dead. He hasn’t quite adjusted to solitude and stillness in the night at Baker Street now that he is living there alone. Everything is too quiet, too alien. It even smells wrong, nothing like his years-old memories promised. Sherlock suspects that will correct itself the longer he is in residence, but that didn’t help him at the moment.

He knew Molly is working the night shift so he doesn’t have to worry about talking to anyone or pretending to be civil when all he wants was a familiar space to shut down for an hour or two.

The bed calls to him as soon as he steps through her door. He falls asleep the moment his head hits her pillow. When he wakes up four hours later he is in a much better frame of mind. A photo of Molly and the fiancé tucked into the vanity mirror catches his eye as he dresses. He glances back at the bed with an annoyed grimace.

When Molly comes home that evening, she finds that the bed had been remade with new linens and the old ones are waiting in the washing machine, cold and wet.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The third time Sherlock pauses in the doorway of her bedroom.

Something is off.

Wrong.

The room stinks of the fiancé.

A sweeping glance tells him what his mind had already subconsciously deduced. There is a dark, masculine catch-all container on her dresser, the kind that held wallets and watches when a man undressed for the night. It’s totally at odds with Molly’s bright and feminine décor. A second robe hangs off the hook on the closet door. Blue plaid, far too large for Molly’s small frame. Another phone charging cord waits on the far bedside table. A pair of men’s slippers haphazardly dumped at the foot of the bed.

He backs out of the room and immediately moves to the front door. His hand hovers over the table next to her door, her key dangling from his fingers. Surely the fiancé wouldn’t want Sherlock to have unrestricted access to Molly’s home now that they were practically living together.

After a long moment, his hand closes around the warm piece of metal. He sweeps through the door, locks it from the outside, and then carefully tucks the key into his pocket.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The fourth time isn’t even his idea.

He is in the lab at Barts, unusually irritable and snappish and so, so tired.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Molly’s voice makes him jerk and he nearly drops the slide he’d been about to load into the microscope. He hadn’t even realized she was in the room.

“After the Zucker double homicide and kidnapping the reporters have been camping out on the stoop again. I can’t get a moment’s peace.”

There is a long moment of silence, and he glances at her from the corner of his eye as he fiddles with the magnification on the scope.

“You know you’re always welcome at mine,” Molly offers. “Go get some rest.”

Sherlock leans back on his stool and watches her face. “Won’t Tom mind having you invite another man into your bed? I sure as hell would.” He has no idea where that had come from, or why he sounds so belligerent about it. “If you were . . . If I was . . . I would want to know who’s been sleeping in my bed.”

Molly frowns and opens her mouth to say something. He’s worried for a second that she is going to ask him a question that he won’t be able to answer. Instead, she pulls her mobile out of her back pocket. “He trusts me. I’ll let him know right now.”

Her thumbs slide across the small screen as she types out the text, reading it out loud as she writes it. “An old friend needs a place to kip tonight. Told him he could stay at mine. Is it okay if we go to yours?”

She hits send with slightly more force than necessary, and holds it up for him to see. “Done.”

The phone pings a few seconds later. Molly glances at the screen and frowns, then quickly tosses it face down onto the worktop without a word.

Fifteen minutes later when she gets up to get a cup of coffee from the vending machine up the hall, Sherlock sneaks a glance at her mobile. There is a message from Tom – “It’s Sherlock, isn’t it? We’ve got to talk. Tonight.”

Sherlock knows that spending the night at Molly’s is going to cause problems between the couple.

He does it anyway.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The fifth time is the night of the Watson wedding. He lets himself in and heads straight for the bed, strips down to his skin, and curls around her pillow.

He doesn’t care if Meat Dagger finds him. Part of him actually hopes the other man discovers him naked in Molly’s bed, but he refuses to examine that too closely.

She comes home sometime after one.

Alone.

Sherlock stirs at the sound of the front door being closed and the metallic jingle of her keys hitting the little table. He waits to see what she’s going to do once she realizes he’s there.

She grabs some clothes out of her dresser and heads into the bathroom. Minutes later, she quietly pads to the bed. “I know you’re awake. Budge over, you’re on my side.”

He does, without a word. She crawls in and turns onto her side away from him.

“I’m not wearing pants,” he blurts out.

“It’s okay. I won’t peek.” Molly rolls toward him and leans up just enough to plan a quick kiss on his cheek. “Night, Sherlock.” Then she flops back over and quickly falls asleep.

She’s gone when he wakes up the next morning. Her scent surrounds him, and his cock is embarrassingly hard.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

He doesn’t remember the next five or so times he finds himself in Molly’s bed.

He’s never high when he comes to her home. He knows, without a doubt, that she’d eviscerate him if he dared to. Or worse, call his brother or Mummy.

But he’s often coming down, hyper sensitive, and desperate to get away from Janine’s cloying clinginess.

Molly is aware that he’s seeing someone, and that he’s doing something very harmful to his body. He’s seen the tight way she holds her lips, and he knows she wants to say something about it, but she doesn’t.

She insists he showers before she lets him fall into bed. She keeps a pair of men’s pyjamas hidden on the top shelf of her closet, out of Tom’s sight. He knows she’s worn them herself a few times, in between his visits, can read it in the way she looks away as she hands them over each time. He doesn’t mention it.

She shares the bed with him twice more, always curled away from him. The last time he lets his fingers softly touch her hair, careful not to wake her. It’s soft, just as he’d imagined it would be. He wants to rub his cheek against it, bury his nose in it.

Every one of those five times he wakes up with an erection that he can’t will away. The night he touches her hair, he rolls out of bed and straight into her shower where he jerks off, coming so hard his knees buckle under the stinging spray of water.

The only times he’s managed to get that hard when he is with Janine is when he’s ended up thinking of Molly. Molly’s hands on him. Molly’s mouth. Even then, he refuses to climax; telling himself that he’s being honourable for Janine’s sake, and that it has nothing to do with feeling guilty about using Molly’s memory in such a way.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The eleventh time is two nights before Christmas. Molly settles into bed next to him, careful not to jostle him too much as he’s still recovering from being shot. She leans over to kiss his cheek, as has become their habit when she’s sharing the bed with him, and he reaches up to slide his hand under her hair against the back of her neck. He holds her in place as he slowly turns his head until his lips brush against hers. It is the softest kiss he has ever had, and it makes his heart ache. He releases her, and she draws back. Her eyes search his in the barely there light from the street lamps outside the curtained window.

“Why?”

“Because.”

She nods, as if it were a real answer, then lays down. She’s facing him for once. A moment later he notices that she’s brought her hand up to rest between them, and he puts his over it. His hand is large enough to completely cover hers, and once again he notes that her ring finger is bare. That knowledge makes him irrationally pleased, another feeling he refuses to acknowledge just yet. He laces their fingers together.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time Molly falls asleep in his bed, they’ve been babysitting Rosie. The child is barely old enough to sit up with assistance, and yet she’s run two of her godparents into exhaustion. Her spare cot is upstairs in John’s old room, but Molly doesn’t feel comfortable with putting her down for her nap so far away.

Sherlock suggests they all lay down in his room.

The three of them settle down on top of the covers, Rosie carefully positioned on her back between the two adults.

When he wakes up, his hand is on Rosie’s little stomach and Molly’s fingers are barely touching his where they curve over Rosie’s side.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The sun has risen by the time he hesitantly lowers himself into her bed for the twelfth time. She’s asleep, twisted in the blankets. He can see the dark circles under her eyes, the dried tracks of her tears. She stirs when the bed moves. As soon as she realized it’s him, Molly tries to roll away. He catches her, pulls her into his arms, presses his cheek against her hair. She’s crying again.

“Why?” she pleads against his neck.

He tells her about Eurus, about Sherinnford, about the coffin and the phone call. “I . . . I meant it, Molly,” Sherlock whispers into her hair, his voice rough and scared. “I love you. I didn’t understand it until I thought I was going to lose you, but it’s true. I swear it.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The first time he sits on the edge of their bed, he can’t help but fidget.

Molly’s old bed has been dismantled and moved into the garden shed. They plan to update several rooms now that Sherlock has officially moved in, the first of which is the bedroom. Replacing the bed with something larger and slightly less overtly feminine had been a priority. The bedding is completely new. His antique wardrobe has been brought over from Baker Street, and now stands across from Molly’s vanity. They are planning to trade several other pieces of furniture between Baker Street and the small house, merging the two locations until they both feel like home.

They’ve agreed that it is best for him to continue to rent his old rooms from Mrs Hudson for his work. The better to keep his private life separate from the public face of the World’s Only Consulting Detective.

He has no idea why he is nervous. He and Molly have spent more nights together than apart since Sherrinford, but this is different.

He wonders if he should turn off the light, but before he can reach for the bedside lamp Molly walks into the bedroom. She’s wearing a vest that has seen better days and barely covers the tops of her thighs. Her hair is loose, but still holds that little crimp from where it had been secured in a ponytail all day while they’d moved boxes and begun to unpack Sherlock’s things.

She is beautiful.

Sherlock thinks, once again, that this is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

He holds out his hand. “Come to bed.”

#sherlollyweek2017

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geneshaven · 7 years

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No More Secrets

Felicity was thinking about that day last year when Oliver moved out. It felt like they were inside an iceberg. Their life together had stopped moving and Oliver seemed like a stranger to her. Felicity’s feelings were raw and it took everything in her to keep from screaming. Oliver’s stuff was in boxes and both of them maneuvered around them like they were landmines. It was a horrible day.

Felicity walked into the kitchen and almost started to cry. On that day he left, Oliver told her he didn’t need his pots and pans, his spice racks and cutting knives. He left it all behind, probably thinking that Felicity could make better use of them. The whole year and a half they were apart, Felicity cooked no meals with those implements. In fact, she just avoided using the kitchen---except for the microwave and the coffee maker. It wasn’t because she couldn’t cook (she couldn’t) but because every time she went into the room, Oliver was still there.

There were so many memories here---good and bad. Felicity looked at the main counters of the kitchen and could still see indentations from the bullets Darkhe’s ghosts had fired. That had been a crazy night. Darkhe almost killed her mother. Curtis was nearly killed as well. She could only stand there, helpless and unable to protect those she cared about. If Oliver and John hadn’t crashed through the upstairs window and disrupted Darkhe’s intentions, he mother would have died.

Felicity moved out into the living room. Looking back on that time, she almost couldn’t recognize the person she was then and who she is now. Everything that came after: her father, Havenrock, Oliver being heroic and killing Darkhe, her decision to stay and continue to fight by Oliver’s side, that sweet time in the Bunker with him, her meeting Billy---it all put her on a downward spiral. Oliver was still an open wound in her heart, but she could not go back to him, she could not be a part of his life while she felt left out of it. Oliver wanted to talk about what happened between them, but it just didn’t feel right to her, even after they shared sex with each other. She told him she loved him, but it wasn’t enough if he did not trust her completely. It was about him not including her in the danger and turmoil and decisions of their lives, not as Overwatch, but as his partner and wife.

Felicity suddenly felt hungry. She thought about going back into the kitchen to make a sandwich but decided against it. It was Oliver’s kitchen again, and a little anticipation moved through her at the thought of listening to the sounds of him making them dinner again, something delicious. Tonight, maybe. And tomorrow---breakfast in bed perhaps.

Felicity picked up her cell and texted Oliver, asking him to stop on the way back from his storage unit and pick up something to eat. When she was done, Felicity moved over to one of Oliver’s boxes. It felt good putting his things back into place. She opened the box and saw a notebook lying inside. Actually, there seemed to be several of them. Curious, Felicity took the top notebook out and opened it. It was Oliver’s writing, and as she started reading the first sentences, Felicity realized she had stumbled onto Oliver’s private thoughts:

August, 2016

I don’t know if this journal is such a good idea. But Felicity told me that facing my demons, dealing with the horrors and the darkness they created will eventually bring closure. She told me to embrace our life together. I would not be the man I am today without her. So I thought about it and decided on this journal. I trust her. I always have.

Felicity wasn’t hungry anymore. She took Oliver’s journal over to the couch and went deeper into the mind of the man she loves.

Oliver pulled the U-Haul up in front of the building that housed his new/old home. The last of his stuff was in the back---about five trips worth up to the loft. On the seat next to him was a bag with their lunch---two Big Belly deluxe’s, an order of onion rings for him and cheese fries for Felicity. Over the last year, while they were apart, Oliver had changed his diet; more fruit and vegetables and less sloppy burgers. Yet when Felicity texted him suggesting he get something to eat, it seemed almost nostalgic that he get the burgers.

The moving could wait. He grabbed the food, made sure the truck was secure, and went into the building.

Felicity dug further into the box and took out the remaining notebooks. It was like finding a rare book, (Felicity was thinking Joseph Conrad’s Heart Of Darkness.) The value of Oliver’s writing was priceless. It told his story, raw and unfiltered. A small part of her felt guilty, as if she was spying on him. But he told her when they decided to move back in together that there were no more secrets between t them. Did that include this journal? Felicity reasoned that if he didn’t want her to read it, he wouldn’t have so casually left it out like this.

She turned another page:

Lian Yu

Slade told me to go into the tower and take out the radio operator. Kill him. Once the radio was secured, we could send a message to Slade’s people, coordinates to the island. I was still inexperienced in this kind of stuff. Yes, I killed that merc with a rock, smashing his head into unrecognizable pulp, but I was crazy insane when I did. This time, I would have my wits. I guess Slade’s plan was a good one---maybe if he had ten highly trained ops guys instead of a greenhorn ex-billionaire playboy.

Felicity was completely lost in Oliver’s words, turning the pages almost hypnotically as his life on the island unfolded.

“Felicity…”

She did not hear Oliver come into the loft. When he spoke her name, Felicity looked up from the journal and saw him standing inside the door, a bag of Big Belly in his hand and a look of being startled on his face. Guilt swept through her again.

“Oliver…I’m…I found…Oliver, I’m sorry.” She was in complete babble mode.

He put the hamburgers down on the entry table and moved over to the couch. “Felicity, it’s alright.”

Felicity got off the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oliver, I never would have pried into your personal stuff…I thought I would help unpack the boxes…but I couldn’t stop reading…”

“Felicity,” he spoke in the ear. “It’s okay. I told you I didn’t want to keep more secrets from you. I haven’t written anything in there since…well, since we broke up.”

She entangled herself from him and stepped back. “Oliver, these are not secrets. They’re…they’re you.”

“Yeah, I guess so. A part of me. But are your sure you want to know the person in those pages?”

“Oliver…yes. With all my heart and soul.”

He nodded. “Okay, but Felicity, we should eat first. You might need strength to get through them. But before you lose yourself in my words, can I ask you a question?”

“Oliver, anything.”

“How far are you in the journal?”

“Well, you and Slade just took over the radio in that tower. Pretty exciting, by the way.”

Oliver nodded but had nothing to add.

Felicity looked over at the bag of food on the table. “Did you get me…”

“Cheese fries,” he finished for her. “I did.” He shook his head with mock disgust. “Felicity, you do know that they’re not very healthy?”

“Oliver, after everything we’ve gone through all these years, cheese fries is the least danger to my health.”

Oliver chuckled. “Fair enough.” He nodded at the notebooks. “That might not be so healthy either; I mean mentally. There is a lot of disturbing and violent stuff.”

“Oliver, I’ve been shot, paralyzed, responsible for the death of an entire town, paralyzed again via EMP, almost killed in an elevator shaft and tortured by Chase---I think I can handle it.”

“Felicity, okay. I’m not saying you can’t. But there are some pretty brutal and graphic moments I’m not proud of.”

“Oliver you said at the beginning of this that you trust me. That is something I will never doubt again. But you need to trust me now. There is nothing in here that will change how I feel about you. I love you---darkness and all.”

Oliver smiled at her. “Felicity, I have an idea. Why don’t we eat first, then go upstairs and make love. I have a sudden desire to hear you call out my name in ecstasy. After, I will read my words out loud to you.”

Felicity took his hand. “Oliver, that’s a great idea. But forget the food---I want some of that ecstasy first.”

She marked her place in Oliver’s journal and they went upstairs.

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @lovelycssefan @tdgal1 @dmichellewrites @memcjo @it-was-a-red-heeler @wherethereissmoak

#fanfiction

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jerrytackettca · 5 years

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Latest Updates on Pink Slime

In 2012, ABC News published an exposé that revealed a beef filler product that looked eerily similar to pink slime could be found in upward of 70 percent of ground beef sold in the U.S.1 The moniker quickly took off, and ultimately cost ABC News a reported $177 million in settlement costs, after the pink slime’s maker, South Dakota-based Beef Products Inc. (BPI), sued them for defamation.2

The pink-colored sludge not only can still be found in ground beef but now, according to a ruling by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), can be labeled simply as “ground beef.” Most consumers in the market for ground beef would have a hard time stomaching the idea of creating a hamburger out of this pink beef product, so why has the U.S. government greenlighted its “ground beef” label?

The product apparently “meets the regulatory definition of ground beef under the law,”3 but there’s good reason why this “soft serve” ground beef product is still stirring up controversy more than a decade after the ABC News investigation.

What Is ‘Pink Slime’ Ground Beef?

The meat product that looks like pink slime is technically called "lean, finely textured beef" (LFTB), according to BPI. It’s made from beef trimmings once reserved for pet food, from the scraps of fat that are cut off bones. Those scraps inevitably have a bit of meat left on them, and BPI realized it could heat them up and then use a centrifuge to separate the bits of meat from the fat.

The resulting LFTB, sometimes referred to as “boneless beef trimmings,” is sterilized using an ammonia puff then sold to companies who mix the filler product with their ground beef. LFTB is a sought-after product by meatpackers because it’s 95 percent lean with only 5 percent fat.

In the U.S., ground beef must be no more than 30 percent fat, so adding in LFTB is a simple way to lower the fat content of ground beef products. It’s also a recipe for spreading foodborne illness, as meat and fat trimmings come from multiple animals.

According to Consumer Reports, this contributes to the high bacteria levels often found in ground beef, as “meat from a single contaminated cow can end up in many packages of ground beef.”4

Part of the original controversy centered around the fact that this highly processed beef product could exist in ground beef without being disclosed, and now the USDA will allow it to continue. Further, BFI could even sell LFTB directly to consumers, labeled as ground beef, although it’s unclear if they have plans to do so.

Beef Trimmings Labeled a High-Risk Product

LFTB is used in many commercial ground beef products sold at fast-food chains, grocery stores, hospitals and schools. Prior to 2012, LFTB was widely used in school lunches, with the USDA purchasing it in massive quantities.

Following the 2012 media coverage of pink slime, 47 states dropped out of the USDA’s option to receive LFTB for their school lunch programs. By September 2013, however, four of those states decided to opt back in, with cost being a major factor.

“Lean finely textured beef brings down the cost of ground beef by about 3 percent, which can add up quickly in a program that feeds more than 31 million school children each day,” Politico reported.5

Both BFI and the USDA claim the processed beef trimmings are safe, but microbiologist Gerald Zirnstein, a former USDA scientist who coined the term "pink slime," and food scientist colleague Carl Custer concluded in a study that the pink slime is a "high risk product," as the trimmings come from parts of the cow that are most likely to be contaminated with dangerous bacteria like E. coli.6

Government and industry records obtained by The New York Times found, in fact, that in testing LFTB for the school lunch program, E. coli and salmonella showed up three and 48 times, respectively, between 2005 and 2012, showing that the ammonia treatment is not foolproof.7

In testimony during the BPI versus ABC News trial, Zirnstein explained why he called it pink slime to begin with: "Because it looks pink and I already said the way to control it, the product is uncontrollable unless it's frozen on a drone or liquid nitrogen … The L[F]BT looked pretty weird, so I have to say yeah I didn't have a very good impression when I first saw it.”8

Zirnstein did not agree that the meat product should have been used in ground beef, especially without labeling, stating that it contains excess collagen, making it a lower quality protein than pure ground beef. He stated:9

“It's lost the functionality of meat. It has a different composition entirely of meat. Just a lot of different things that doesn't really meet the definition … It should not have been included in ground beef or hamburger unless you were going to be fair to the consumer and let them know there was something else in their with lower quality."

No Way of Knowing Which Products Contain Pink Slime

McDonald’s and many major grocery chains vowed to stop using the pink slime in 2012 after all the negative publicity, causing sales to plummet. But by 2014, sales began to creep back up, and BFI even had so much demand that they reopened one of its previously shut down plants.

As of 2014, production of LFTB doubled since its low in 2012, but, as the Los Angeles Times reported, no one was fessing up to using it. “As to who's using it now, that's a mystery. McDonald's said in May [2014] that it still wasn't using pink slime,” business columnist David Lazarus reported. “In fact, I couldn't find a single company that's admitted using it again. But obviously someone is. Otherwise production of pink slime wouldn't be up 100 percent.”10

Now with the USDA’s decision that LFTB can simply be called “ground beef,” despite its appearance as a strange, pink playing dough-like blob, it will be even harder, if not impossible, to know whether the ground beef at your grocery store or favorite restaurant contains it.

In case there was any doubt, it was BFI that asked the USDA to reconsider pink slime’s classification, which led to the USDA conducting a monthslong review and quietly changing its labeling requirements. In December 2018, BFI let its suppliers know of the change that the product formerly known to the public as pink slime could now be called ground beef.11

Prior to the USDA’s reclassification, BFI created a major advertising campaign called “Dude, it’s beef!” aimed at changing pink slime’s image. According to Modern Farmer, the campaign was promoted not only by BFI but also “by politicians in states with large cattle industries, like Texas.”12

Further, when LFTB was originally allowed to be called “meat,” it was courtesy of USDA officials once again, including one in particular who later went on to earn millions while serving on BPI's board of directors. Although the article has since been removed from the ABC website, it’s still “live” on YouTube.13 In it, ABC News reports:14

"The ‘pink slime’ does not have to appear on the label because, over objections of its own scientists, USDA officials with links to the beef industry labeled pink slime meat. ‘The under secretary said, 'it's pink, therefore it's meat,'’ Custer told ABC News.

ABC News has learned the woman who made the decision to OK the mix is a former undersecretary of agriculture, Joann Smith — a call that led to hundred of millions of dollars for Beef Products Inc., the makers of pink slime. When Smith stepped down from the USDA in 1993, BPI's principal major supplier appointed her to its board of directors, where she made at least $1.2 million over 17 years."

After the report was aired, BPI filed a $1.9 billion lawsuit against ABC for defamation, claiming the company had lost business over ABC’s depiction of pink slime as unsafe.

Had a jury returned a verdict in favor of BPI, the news agency could have faced nearly $6 billion in penalties under a South Dakota food libel law, but three weeks into the trial, Disney, which owns the network, disclosed that they had paid $177 million in a settlement with BPI.15

According to Fortune, the details of the settlement were confidential, but it appeared that Disney’s payment was an adjunct to an unspecified amount that insurers paid.16 In a follow-up statement, ABC said that they continue to stand by their reporting and that they had “accurately presented the facts and views of knowledgeable people.”17

More Reasons to Avoid CAFO Meat

Most of the ground beef produced with pink slime fillers comes from concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs), which themselves come with a litany of problems, not the least of which is the huge quantities of waste produced and how it’s managed.

The trickle-down of toxins from industrial agriculture affects all of us on the planet, from contaminated drinking water and produce to the spread of antibiotic-resistant disease, which is proliferated by the use of low-dose antibiotics in animal feed.

CAFOs are also directly contributing to the growing dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico, which is a serious and increasing threat to marine life, while pesticide usage and other industrialized farming methods may be killing off insects at an alarming rate.

All of these complex problems have a common thread, and that is that their solution lies in changing agricultural practices from industrial to regenerative. Choosing grass fed products like grass fed beef and bison over that raised in CAFOs is a solution that we can all take part in — and it’s also one of the best ways to avoid pink slime in your beef.

Where to Find Real, Filler-Free Ground Beef

As long as there are people willing to buy cheap, "imitation" meats made from beef trimmings formerly regarded as scraps, the industry will continue to produce it. The average American ate about 800 burgers’ worth of beef in 2018, or about 222 pounds.18 Where you get this beef, how it’s raised and, ultimately, the way it is prepared make all the difference in how it affects your health and the environment.

Source matters — greatly — and part of that includes knowing where your beef was raised. You’ll want to avoid getting your beef from so-called “hamburger central,” or CAFOs, instead opting for organic, grass fed beef that’s raised without antibiotics and produced without fillers like pink slime.

Sourcing your foods from a local farmer is one of the best ways to do so, and you can also look for the American Grassfed Association (AGA) logo,19 which allows for greater transparency and conformity20 and is intended to ensure the humane treatment of animals and to meet consumer expectations about grass fed meat and dairy, while being feasible for small farmers to achieve.

As far back as 2009, Zirnstein said he had doubts about “pink slime,” writing in an email, “I do not consider the stuff to be ground beef, and I consider allowing it in ground beef to be a form of fraudulent labeling.”21

Now, 10 years later, pink slime will be labeled as ground beef with the USDA’s approval. If you want to eat ground beef that’s just that — ground beef without fillers — find a local farmer near you — or at the very least call your supermarket and ask them if their ground beef products contain it.

from http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2019/03/05/pink-slime-ground-beef.aspx

source http://niapurenaturecom.weebly.com/blog/latest-updates-on-pink-slime

0 notes

paullassiterca · 5 years

Text

Latest Updates on Pink Slime

What Is ‘Pink Slime’ Ground Beef?

The meat product that looks like pink slime is technically called “lean, finely textured beef” (LFTB), according to BPI. It’s made from beef trimmings once reserved for pet food, from the scraps of fat that are cut off bones. Those scraps inevitably have a bit of meat left on them, and BPI realized it could heat them up and then use a centrifuge to separate the bits of meat from the fat.

According to Consumer Reports, this contributes to the high bacteria levels often found in ground beef, as “meat from a single contaminated cow can end up in many packages of ground beef.”4

Beef Trimmings Labeled a High-Risk Product

Both BFI and the USDA claim the processed beef trimmings are safe, but microbiologist Gerald Zirnstein, a former USDA scientist who coined the term “pink slime,” and food scientist colleague Carl Custer concluded in a study that the pink slime is a “high risk product,” as the trimmings come from parts of the cow that are most likely to be contaminated with dangerous bacteria like E. coli.6

In testimony during the BPI versus ABC News trial, Zirnstein explained why he called it pink slime to begin with: “Because it looks pink and I already said the way to control it, the product is uncontrollable unless it’s frozen on a drone or liquid nitrogen … The L[F]BT looked pretty weird, so I have to say yeah I didn’t have a very good impression when I first saw it.”8

“It’s lost the functionality of meat. It has a different composition entirely of meat. Just a lot of different things that doesn’t really meet the definition … It should not have been included in ground beef or hamburger unless you were going to be fair to the consumer and let them know there was something else in their with lower quality.”

No Way of Knowing Which Products Contain Pink Slime

As of 2014, production of LFTB doubled since its low in 2012, but, as the Los Angeles Times reported, no one was fessing up to using it. “As to who’s using it now, that’s a mystery. McDonald’s said in May [2014] that it still wasn’t using pink slime,” business columnist David Lazarus reported. “In fact, I couldn’t find a single company that’s admitted using it again. But obviously someone is. Otherwise production of pink slime wouldn’t be up 100 percent.”10

Further, when LFTB was originally allowed to be called “meat,” it was courtesy of USDA officials once again, including one in particular who later went on to earn millions while serving on BPI’s board of directors. Although the article has since been removed from the ABC website, it’s still “live” on YouTube.13 In it, ABC News reports:14

“The ‘pink slime’ does not have to appear on the label because, over objections of its own scientists, USDA officials with links to the beef industry labeled pink slime meat. ‘The under secretary said, ‘it’s pink, therefore it’s meat,'’ Custer told ABC News.

ABC News has learned the woman who made the decision to OK the mix is a former undersecretary of agriculture, Joann Smith — a call that led to hundred of millions of dollars for Beef Products Inc., the makers of pink slime. When Smith stepped down from the USDA in 1993, BPI’s principal major supplier appointed her to its board of directors, where she made at least $1.2 million over 17 years.”

After the report was aired, BPI filed a $1.9 billion lawsuit against ABC for defamation, claiming the company had lost business over ABC’s depiction of pink slime as unsafe.

More Reasons to Avoid CAFO Meat

Where to Find Real, Filler-Free Ground Beef

As long as there are people willing to buy cheap, “imitation” meats made from beef trimmings formerly regarded as scraps, the industry will continue to produce it. The average American ate about 800 burgers’ worth of beef in 2018, or about 222 pounds.18 Where you get this beef, how it’s raised and, ultimately, the way it is prepared make all the difference in how it affects your health and the environment.

from Articles http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2019/03/05/pink-slime-ground-beef.aspx source https://niapurenaturecom.tumblr.com/post/183234095856

0 notes

nchyinotes · 6 years

Text

What is to be done? Games for Social Impact (Cybersalon @ Newspeak House)

January 25 2018

http://cybersalon.org/what-is-to-be-done-games-for-social-impact-next-event/

Over 2.2 bln people world-wide will be playing games in 2018. A hit game is fun but also an opportunity for deep learning and transformative experience. As technology, politics and urbanisation makes our lives more complex, games can help us to learn faster about things we need to know to thrive in this new post-truth world. Cybersalon.org will host a panel on how game creatives and social innovators can put spotlight on real-world challenges like state and work surveillance, fake news and anti-democratic practices of modern governments while providing inspiring game experience.

Rich Metson – game designer and OFF GRID co-author. The game reveals the world of surveillance and invites player to explore the avoidance and defense techniques.

Amanda Warner –”Fake It to Make it” US-based web games author and interactive designer interested in fighting propaganda and confusion in Mainstream Media in US and beyond (joining via Skype from US)

Osmiotic Studios – Hamburg-based authors of “Orwell” game, sharing the key points from the development and potential of the game for impact

Ben Greenaway – Cybersalon’s games reviewer who will discuss Anders Norén’s Riot – Civil Unrest and also impact of AI and AR in Games for Change

Simon Sarginson – Senior UX Developer at Splash Damage will review the game “Orwell”

Chairing Rosa Carbo-Mascarell – London-based game designer and Corbyn Run game co-author , Creative Director for Game Jam and Games For The Many

THOUGHTS: I thoroughly enjoyed this event. Attended out of sheer curiosity, as I saw the listing on Newspeak House. I hear about video games everywhere and have heard/watched interesting video game analysis, but have never really played video games or seen the appeal. I’m always interested in different creative mediums used to reach people and engage them beyond just entertainment purposes (while also providing the entertainment, but not letting that dilute the message behind it). So I definitely appreciated being introduced to all these video games that hope to make social impact. I found them all fascinating - I even bought the Red Strings Club! I also got to play a bit of Off Grid afterwards, which was quite cool. Looking forward to when it comes out. The panel was the highlight for me though, I found the discussion about video games as a medium informative and thought provoking.

EDITED NOTES

Off Grid the Game (Rich Metson)

Hacking, data privacy

POV of a technophobe trying to understand political impact

End up doing malicious things for a good goal

Collecting data as you go along, to build a profile

Off grid is “simplistic” (ie. a solution in the game to distract a guard is to hack the radio channel to change it to a sports channel so the guy listens to the radio for longer) to make a point

Read more: http://offgridthegame.com/ and http://www.eurogamer.net/articles/2018-01-15-off-grid-is-about-the-principles-of-hacking

Fake it to make it (Amanda)

Targeting people who genuinely believed fake news

Higher level of skepticism + notice/fact check, explain to others/advocate how its spread

Don’t understand that it’s easy to

financial incentives (profitability of ad revenue)

Outcome map - Start with high level (what needs to happen in the world, what needs to support)

Best way for people to gain a deep understanding

Background in training and education

Skill development, behaviour change

Jeopardy: very typical game used in education, but game structure has very little to do with message - the challenge was not connected to learning goals

Game with a goal with defined set of rules to reach it

Power for people to struggle

Integrate skills, behaviours into mechanisms of game

Stories from teachers about impact

Read more: http://www.fakeittomakeitgame.com/ and https://kotaku.com/fake-news-video-game-is-a-little-too-real-1793660926

RIOT (Ben Greenaway)

RIOT, civil unrest (advocate)

Simulator

Real time strategist for police or rioters

Agency issue in games

Layer of AI/separation/representation (2D/3D)

First person = generally OK

Especially in RT strategy games

How does it feel like i’m actually there?

Model computes a reaction to your input for each game character based on different elements (training, adrenaline, etc)

Friction between intent + reality

Game is produced as response to real world events, testimony of what he experienced

Gamespot blogspot, leonard menchian

4 real world historic events (italy, greece, Spain, Egypt)

Simulation tool: how to have player agency in historical event

Key characters that were photographed in Venezuelan + chile events are baked in to the game

Not historic reenactment - fuzzy rean??, real world rules based

Is there ever a winning police/rioter strategy

Pilots use simulators

Experiments - protein folding, scientific testing

Simulation as prediction

Social change as a game (how its portrayed)

RIOT is documentary + offering new POV

Read more: http://riotsimulator.com/ and https://www.gamespot.com/articles/how-the-worlds-riots-inspired-a-video-game/1100-6405315/

Simon Sarginson

Visceral effects of digital in political engagement

Exploring ideas in games: 3 games of how we interact with governments

Accessible, not very deep

How we deal with influence + govt

Games used to ask qs or answer (how can)

1) ORWELL (Goal: to find terrorists)

How public info makes you easily identifiable

More invasive

1. You get kind of bored looking through people's lives, demotivation of subject its trying to portray

2. You have a lot of power. People's lives are highly ambiguous, where you choose to surface = hugely important

Uncomfortable tension ran there with narrative of game, you’re working for an evil government

Participating, not just watching (like other art). Your agency in this. You are a pawn of evil!

Politically slanted

More: https://www.vice.com/en_uk/article/bn3m35/orwell-is-a-game-about-surviellance-with-a-major-blindspot or http://www.surpriseattackgames.com/portfolio-items/orwell/ or https://www.theverge.com/2018/3/4/17062366/orwell-keeping-an-eye-on-you-game-surveillance-short-play

2) Papers, Please

Working as border worker

Tension: face horrible choices - if you do moral things, you pay out of own pocket

Mundane, you just want to get through it - it becomes an annoyance

Involved in process, goal: keep family alive

Very visceral way how people can be stuck in this system

More: http://www.papersplea.se/

3) Red strings club

Info broker influencing people with drinks, like big organisations (do?)

Social influence as personal vs traditional advertising

Role of influence in our lives - trans humanist slant

More: https://www.polygon.com/2018/1/22/16911206/the-red-strings-club-review or https://www.gamespot.com/reviews/the-red-strings-club-review/1900-6416838/

Panel

Lots of political engagement in other art forms, why not in games?

1930s in terms of timeline (where film was)

games come out of something inherently not political - the arcade, for entertainment, to disappear into something entirely different

language is still in development

only recently have video games been considered art, early times

pressure isn’t yet there from us - i need more from this game, i want you to address real issues, not just fantasy escape

reasoning, political will, game making power hasn’t come together in one package yet

when collabs happen, are often mismatched = entertainment game vibe, not in the most positive way

financial incentives, not well positioned to have independent voice. even movie industry while v large and organisational

you need scale to have political message

(young medium, the market, requires some certain independence from the way we make games)

Is there a way to speed up that process?

make better cameras (like lumiere brothers?)

unity engine didn’t think it would politicise game dev but it has (was to democratise), so much easier to do it.

we actually are able to focus on political content more, and have an ability to enter the market and compete commercially, given enough time.

comes down to tooling - access to toolkit to broader group of people

try to do too much ?

beyond confines of game just for entertainment

interaction = what makes games unique, can expose interesting ways of political process

if a game is not fun, no one will use it (unlike film, books)

harder to get entry levels/newcomers into making something interesting?

knowledge required to do a v complicated simulation = v extensive technical

games is difficult medium to use, bc hard to express politics through mechanics and not everyone can create simulations

How do you motivate existing game makers to do this?

game jams - melting point to do ideas, but nobody actually finishes them (a money thing, staying power needs financial)

paolo ?? short games on oil, drones

crowdfunding

consequence of democratisation of more accessibility to making games

if you have a broader set of people contributing content to the field (not CS people), you’ll have different stories told

ie. paperboy falling into pothole into street

politics comes from everywhere - more political games just cause you have more games

Why are society’s most vulnerable people never involved in games that comment on their lives?

south side of chicago - meant to try to engage community in grassroots led basis

maturity of the medium

indie developer without funding, hard to research communities on field (have to just do it on internet)

matty brice, nicky case (coming out) - there are people from marginalised communities making games

channels for conversations to get started

minimal toolkit to get involved, recognising that we need other input (ideation developers, modders, etc)

making games moddable ? modder culture

For Amanda: who is your audience? the people that need the information are not seeking it out

her relatives (lol)

middle of the road people, who are not so unreachable

students - digital literacy in schools

??? GTA ??

speaking up when you think something is a bit heavy handed, voice concern, pressure on studios to compete with you and make something more important / sensitive to issues

star wars battlefront 2 - in game payment system

v bad planning on EA, oversold on promise of game before release (beta & reddit)

debated in EU courts now

so much rooms for games like GTA to explore deeper in to ?? worlds ?? —> will sell more copies of they do

big boys and girls: they don’t absolutely own the market like they used to

#video games #social impact #digital society #london #2018 #tech #activism #event

0 notes

njawaidofficial · 7 years

Text

'Carpool Karaoke' Spinoff Premieres as Apple Content Ambitions Grow

http://styleveryday.com/2017/08/09/carpool-karaoke-spinoff-premieres-as-apple-content-ambitions-grow/

'Carpool Karaoke' Spinoff Premieres as Apple Content Ambitions Grow

The series, based on the popular ‘Late Late Show’ segment, premieres Tuesday, Aug. 8, on Apple Music.

On Monday night at Chateau Marmont, CBS Corp. CEO Leslie Moonves sat chatting with James Corden at the party to celebrate the premiere of the Late Late Show host’s newest show, a spinoff of his popular “Carpool Karaoke” segment. Later, as guests noshed on falafel and mini hamburgers — and after speeches from “Carpool Karaoke” producer Ben Winston and Apple executive Jimmy Iovine — Corden told everyone to drink up because “Apple’s doing quite well in the stocks.”

It was a true Hollywood outing for Apple, which up until 2016 when it began striking deals with producers such as Winston and Propagate Content’s Ben Silverman, spent years deflecting rumors about its entertainment ambitions. “Carpool Karaoke,” which premieres Tuesday on Apple Music, represents Apple’s second stab at original programming following the June premiere of Planet of the Apps, a reality series produced by Silverman that saw mentors including Jessica Alba and will.i.am help app developers pitch investors on their big ideas. The shows are meant to lure more subscribers to the subscription music service, which costs $10 per month and competes with products such as Spotify and Tidal.

Much like with Planet of the Apps, Apple is sticking close to what it knows with “Carpool” — in this case, music. The unscripted “Carpool” riffs on the popular Late Late Show segment by featuring pairs of celebrities, often musicians, as they drive around Los Angeles and other cities while singing along to the radio. The 20-episode series, which after its premiere will release two episodes per week, will show off groupings such as Billy Eichner and Metallica, John Legend and Alicia Keys and the entire Cyrus family fronted by Miley Cyrus. The show even comes with its own companion playlist on Apple Music.

“Obviously the connection with Apple Music is awesome,” says Apple senior vp Eddy Cue. Executive producer and showrunner Eric Pankowski agrees. The shows, he says, is “the perfect fit for their relevance in music and pop culture.”

Corden and Winston first began shopping the idea of a “Carpool” spinoff in 2016 after the segment’s early success, helping boost the profile of the Late Late Show‘s new host with videos that regularly went viral. To wit, Corden’s interview with Adele from last year is the show’s most-viewed video on YouTube with 165 million views. Segments with Justin Bieber, One Direction, Sia and Selena Gomez round out the channel’s top five. Though Corden and Winston pitched the project elsewhere, they say it was hard to say “no” to the prospect of becoming one of Apple’s first original series. “Yes, they’re new to television, but ultimately, they’re still Apple,” says Corden. “To be associated with them was just a dream come true for us. We were very excited about being one of the first shows they’ll ever do, probably the first of many.”

“Carpool” could also come to be known as one of the few projects developed before Apple made its first big high-profile Hollywood hire. In June, just days after Planet of the Apps dropped to Apple Music subscribers, the iPhone maker announced that it had tapped Sony Pictures Television co-presidents Jamie Erlicht and Zack Van Amburg to lead its programming push. The move was largely seen as a signal to Hollywood that Apple was ready to make a bigger investment in premium programming. Erlicht and Van Amburg will begin working for Apple in September, but in the meantime the company is continuing its original programming rollout.

Planet of the Apps drew audiences by playing up its big-name hosts. With “Carpool,” Apple can tap into an existing audience already familiar with the late night segments. “We don’t really have to tell people what ‘Carpool Karaoke’ is,” notes Cue.

But there are risks associated with adapting an already beloved property for a new platform. Corden, for example, won’t appear in every episode. He hosts the premiere and finale with appearances sprinkle throughout, but the remaining episodes feature guest hosts such as Chelsea Handler and Trevor Noah. “He’s an amazing talent at bringing stuff out of people and singing with them,” Winston says of Corden. “Of course when we were setting out to make this show, we were concerned with it. How do you make ‘Carpool’ without James Corden? But now, watching the show and looking at the 20 episodes we have, we’ve answered that in quite an emphatic way, really. The answer is to get really fascinating people, pairings you want to see, doing things you wouldn’t usually see them doing.”

That’s how “Carpool” ended up with pairings such as Game of Thrones stars Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams, and Shaquille O’Neal and John Cena. “You get great results and see interviews and moments with these people that you’d never see otherwise,” adds Winston. “That’s whether James is in the car or not.”

The episodes are also about double the length of the typical segment on the Late Late Show, meaning that there was more time to fill with conversations, songs and wacky adventures. But Cue notes that he didn’t ask for episodes to meet a certain length. “I never asked them for a half hour,” he says. “Our view around it was, create what you guys think is a great show. If one’s shorter or one’s longer, that’s fine.” Adds Pankowski, “They really embraced the idea of letting the creative dictate what the show would become. The idea that we didn’t have to hit arbitrary times like you do in broadcast and cable TV was liberating creatively.”

At one time, Apple had planned on premiering “Carpool,” but the debut was ultimately pushed to late summer. Cue says he wanted to release it once all the shows were finished because of a plan to release two episodes a week (excluding the premiere and the finale). And Corden explains that after their order was upped from 16 to 20, a delayed start gave them more time to finish shooting the additional episodes.

While Hollywood has been hotly anticipating Apple’s entrance into the original programming game, the $820 billion company is still a newcomer to the video space. But the “Carpool” team says it isn’t concerned about people finding the show on Apple Music, which reaches 27 million subscribers. “It’s a sign of how people consume content now,” says Pankowski. “As opposed to television where you have to wait for a certain day and time, with Apple it’s available on your phone, your iPad, your computer, your Apple TV.”

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ketocraft · 7 years

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OF WANTINGS, CRAVINGS, WILL, AND DESIRE

Warning: If you are triggered by reading about non-ketogenic foods, please do not read this post as I do describe some non-keto foods.

On Wednesday, March 8, I made my way to my parents’ house where I would be staying for two nights and going home on Friday the 10th… Today March 11th. Unfortunately, that is not how things worked out. I don’t say unfortunately because I don’t like being here or anything, I only say unfortunately because it really has been an unfortunate experience. My first week being ketogenic went swimmingly. No cravings no wantings nothing. I didn’t really eat much, and didn’t have anything pulling me to “cheat” at all. I felt I was doing great! Along with this greatness apparently came the hubris that I could not be tempted and I would be just fine at my parents house. All I can say is that I should have known better and I should’ve planned better for this experience. When I set off, in my Keto arsenal I had the following: F bombs, protein powder, um… yeah that’s it. I didn’t think that I would need anything else but bulletproof coffee and protein shakes to get me through my day. I was going to bring some pork rinds but thought better of it because I didn’t want them to get smashed on the way there and I figured I wasn’t really hungry most days. I love my family, but I absolutely have hated this experience.

Day 1: I arrived on Wednesday and that was a pretty easy day. I had my protein shake, my dad made me chorizo spam, I explained to him a little bit about my ketogenic diet, and for dinner he made chicken with deliciously seasoned skin. So when I got to the house and I put my protein shake in the freezer to cool, I immediately saw the Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake that they had purchased for him for his birthday. “We saved you a slice from my birthday party.” Great. Just flipping great. These are my favorite types of cake. That’s OK, I had already prepared for this, I put my shake in the freezer and didn’t even give the damn thing a second look. I had already decided that I was not going to break my budding ketosis over ice cream cake. I politely thanked my dad and never thought of it again. So I scraped by day One with my ketogenic diet firmly intact. Even though I knew there were old temptations there (The fruit I always ate, Hawaiian sweet rolls, ice cream, chips, soda, etc.) I was doing fine and I felt like just maybe I had prepared myself mentally enough to go into this war zone. I was greatly mistaken.

Day2: Every other morning that I have been at my parents house at some point in the early morning my mom will tell me that there’s coffee. Usually 15 to 20 minutes later I’ll stumble into the kitchen get my favorite coffee mug… “My” (as in I bought it for their house) coffee mug… pour myself a cup and go about my day. This morning was not the case. This was the beginning of every goddamn thing that could go wrong, did. I got up fairly early when people were still getting ready for school and work and walked into the kitchen. My dad said there was coffee but then kind of shook the coffee pot like well, there’s not much coffee sorry. So there went my first meal. I was already kind of feeling beaten down by all the things I had turned away from, so having a bulletproof coffee really would have helped that morning. As the house begin to clear I begin the first bout of the hangrys. I was acting like a child inside. Whining about all the stuff I couldn’t have, angry that there was no coffee left for me, angry that my mother threw out my coffee mug for no reason! I just had had it, but I couldn’t be angry at my family because it’s not their fault or their problem. Usually making another pot of coffee is no big deal, but I could not for the life of me figure out how to use their coffee maker. So after even more kicking screaming and tantruming in my head, I finally asked my dad just to make me some coffee. After a bulletproof coffee I was back on my game again. I hid out in my parents room most of the day watching movies while my dad and his friends hung out in the livingroom. That night, I heard my dad say something to somebody about making lasagna and I flipped out. I thought fast and called my mom and told her that Dad was going to make lasagna but I can’t eat lasagna. I told her not to tell my dad, because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I had explained keto to my dad already, but I don’t think he quite understood. My mom called my dad and told my dad that instead of making dinner we would go out to dinner. Music to my ears let me tell you! Went to a local place called Johnny’s Shrimpboat. It’s been a restaurant we have gone to for years, and I always get the same thing… A hamburger. This time however, I would keep it Quito and get it with out the bun wrapped in lettuce which I only ate some of. The burger was delicious and I had been wanting a burger for a while, so this was good. I thought I was going to go home at some point on Friday because either my mom would take the day off to take me to the station or home, or I would just Uber to the station and take the train home. I however found out that that was not to be the case because my train had been discontinued (this is a common Metrolink practice and I wish they would stop).

Day 3 Day three just seem like one folly after another. So let’s be perfectly honest here, so I have been dodging temptations left right and center and I live in California and occasionally, especially around my boys, get high. So I’ve been dodging all of this crap completely stoned sometimes and rather than eating I’ll just go to sleep because really there’s nothing else to do there. So most of the day I spent hanging out on my parents couch with my family (those who indulge in such activities) hanging out watching movies kicking back. Unfortunately, this was to be the day that I would be the most tested. Early in the morning I made my bulletproof coffee getting through my first meal. Well I was sitting on the couch, my dad came into the living room and asked me something about how to make cornbread. In the old days, I used to make it for him a lot for special occasions. It’s one of his favorite things to eat. This time, I think it was his first time making it. I didn’t make it, but I advised him where he needed advising, and went back to my happy little stoner land. Then, I found out that there would be lasagna for dinner. The expletives that ran through my head had to be made up because there weren’t enough to say all of the ones I thought. So here I am completely mellowed and sitting on the couch and my dad comes up to me with a napkin and what I knew was piping hot cornbread off of the oven pan. Without even hesitating I looked up at my dad and politely said “no thank you I’m good” kind of proud of myself, and kind a wondering how the hell I had just done that. We all set around and I worked on some of my sudoku for a while and then dinner time came around. For the past couple days I really haven’t had much to eat except for the occasional piece of turkey bologna which had no carbs. Mind you, I really hate bologna, but it was acceptable to my diet so I went with it. So even though I’m hungry most of the time, it wasn’t enough to throw me into a spiral… Until dinner. So there was a big pan of lasagna on top of the stove along with the cornbread and I think my dad had even made garlic bread to go with dinner. I thought it would be fine as long as I stay out of the kitchen so I relegated myself to the dining room because my parents were eating in the livingroom. By this point I was cranky, hungry, and really not handling things well. I was sick of being tested, sick of being tempted, sick of not being able to cook for myself and give myself a proper meal plan. I took full responsibility for my lack of preparedness and swore not to let it happen again (just for context, I started writing this at their house and I’m just finishing it now). I was hungry and I had to do something so I went into the kitchen, cut up a lemon, and decided I would eat that. Got three pieces into my lemon and then I decided to log it on MFP. I didn’t expect that a lemon would be any carbs, because the lemon juice that I use is zero carbs. Somehow however, a lemon is five carbs and that just really took a baseball bat to what was left of my resolve. I told myself if I went into the kitchen as long as I didn’t look at the stove I was fine just fine. At this point my hangry must’ve been showing like a battle flag because my mom pointed it out to me that I apparently had a problem. So as to not argue with my family and try to enjoy the last remaining hours there, I decided I would take a shower and go to bed. So I took a shower, and came out pretty relaxed, but still hungry. I had already had my protein shake for the day and couldn’t afford another. I went to throw my towels in the laundry room and I looked at the goddamn stove. I felt like I had turned to stone as I said fuck it and grabbed the piece of cornbread that have been offered to me earlier. It was a 2 inch piece of cornbread which I logged into MFP and it said 18 carbs, but I don’t know if that takes into account the fact that it was made with sucralose. I ate it, somehow felt vindicated, and went to sleep. I think I had had it and I was done. I woke up the next morning to my mom tapping me on the shoulder and telling me they were taking me home. I guess my hangry episode the night before gave them the hint that I needed to be out of there because when I open my eyes and looked around, they were both already showered and dressed and ready to go. I love my parents, I love going to their house. Being around my family gives me a sense of balance especially when I feel off kilter. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a horrible experience there, and I know that it was due to me being ill prepared. I don’t cook at my parents house because frankly I don’t feel comfortable. I didn’t really spend much time in that home and it doesn’t feel like home to me. I kind of feel like an out of town guest when I’m there and it’s not anything they’ve ever said to me, but more the fact that I’ve never felt that place was home. I take full responsibility for the hell that I had to go through there, and I know that next time I will be better prepared. I’m still a keto rookie, and I’m still going to make mistakes. I refuse to give myself hell for that piece of cornbread because it’s over and done with and it’s not like I make a lifetime habit out of cheating. I think the fact that I made it through as long as I did with as many old habits as there were laying at my feet is still something I am proud of. It has long been my motto that failing to prepare is preparing to fail and I should have heated that warning a little more closely. Since this incident, I have not had any extra cravings or anything, I just kept on with business as usual. Now, in the middle of my third week of keto, I still don’t have cravings for the things I used to eat, but I know now that when they are around me in droves I need to have something to combat them. I’m fortunate enough that I live in a home where I buy my groceries and so if I don’t wanted in my mouth it’s not in my house. I can’t control the food in other peoples homes, so I need to control myself in other people’s houses. It was a learning experience and I’m glad for it, I know more about myself now, and I know more about my will to stay on this diet. This experience was also full of distinctions: wantings versus cravings, between will versus desire, between mouth hungry and stomach hungry. There were so many lessons and distinctions rolled into this experience I really just needed some time to sort them all through. This is my first mistake, but it won’t be my last. I will write about another (totally keto friendly) mistake I made later. I hope this blog post can be a help to somebody somehow, because then maybe it’ll make this experience worthwhile. Thank you to everybody who has followed me thus far and thank you to everybody who is taking the time to read my blog posts. I really appreciate everyone of you!

#keto diet #ketogenic #keto #ketocraft #ketosis #ketofam #ketolife #ketonewbie #ketones #lowcarb #lchf #hflcfood #newtoketo #ketoonthego #Keto Craft

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kepesh-yakshi · 7 years

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Quickfic: Recovery

January 22, 2187 CE (EST 0515) Hi, diary, how long has it been? I told myself a long time ago that I would never keep us separated for more than a day, and if we were, I'd write on something else and insert them in with you in the right order. We started this three years ago, and I commited - and you know how committed I am to things I believe in. (scribbled out words) I think it's impossible that I'm even writing this, with all that happened almost a month ago. I was almost killed. Again... (more scribbled out words, a teardrop smudged the end of it)

I I don't want to talk about it right now. But I am alive, and that's really all I wanted to say. -- Marley Shepard closed the thick navy blue leather-bound journal, stuffed with pages of various sizes and colors, folded and stored as neatly as she could make them, put it at the edge of the rolling tray, and set the pen on its cover. It smelled of sweet things: rose, lavender, cinnamon, vanilla...just enough so that you could imagine some pages were deliberately scented. James Vega, who sat in the chair at the far corner of the hospital room, found it peculiar, as his Commander wasn't at all a girly girl. Sure, she had a knock-out body and she took great care of herself, and even wore makeup, but she never once gave any inclination that she was into scented paper. He pondered what kind of prank he could pull on her with that discovery. But to him, she always smelled like sweet peppery cinnamon...no, what is it called?

"Clove," he mumbled out loud. Marley, Doctors Liara T'Soni and Karin Chakwas, and Jeff "Joker" Moreau all looked at him.

"Oh," he backed away, verbally, stating "nothing, sorry." He revered his Commander. All five feet, six inches, 136 pounds of her. She was small in stature, but “tight” by muscular structure, with round rocks for shoulders and horseshoe triceps. Even her legs were well defined. She wasn’t cut like he was, but she looked like she worked out. She had a pixie crop of reddish brown curls, half wrapped away under bandages and burn cream, blackened but healing teal eyes that normally levied an understanding beyond someone of her age (32), soft curved cheeks and lips that seemed to edge upward in a smile. Even when she was frustrated, she always seemed to have a hopeful look about her. Her wide-bridged nose, currently taped due to being broken, sloped straight into a round tip that often wriggled when she spoke, which made his inner child giggle with glee. at how adorable she looked. He was thankful that she didn't know that he thought that way. He wasn't in love love with her, but he did adore her. She was his hero, and not for the things he was thinking about. In moments like this, he often wondered how someone of her background could keep her wits about her and be so compassionate and capable of doing the things she had done. After all, he still couldn't even talk about Fehl Prime.

"Nothing, Lieutenant?" Marley's inquisitive response was one he wasn't sure how to reply.

"Well, I can smell your journal from over here, and it reminded me that I notice you smell like cloves." There was a long pause, and Joker let out a chuckle. "I mean, not the cigarettes or anything like that...just...the clove things. Like cinnamon and pepper or something...nevermind." He chose to sit in the far corner of the room for a reason, primarily because he was too worried about her to be more than just present. He almost felt helpless for her. There in that hospital bed was one of the strongest and bravest people he knew, burned, bruised, and broken in so many places. And her half-bandaged head was hanging low. Until he said "cloves."

"I smell like cloves, huh..." She'd been told that, before, but wanted to make sure she heard him right, and that he was the one saying it. The big hulk of a man sitting noticeably far away from her, in a skin-tight faded red shirt and baggy black cargo pants, sitting with tension throughout his muscular body, was displaying every sign of awkwardness that she'd ever seen.

He owned his slip, to her amusement. "Yes, ma'am. And cloves smell very nice." "I've heard that before, and thank you for the compliment." She smiled and nodded earnestly at him. As simple as the exchange was, it was a desperately needed distraction. She savored the moment as it was.

"You're welcome...ma'am." He withdrew from the subject, turning his attention to the view from the second floor window. "I still can't believe you talked Admiral Hackett into letting some of the keepers come down here during the recovery effort."

"Yes, yes I did," Marley welcomed the unfolding diversion with open arms. "It was the second thing I said to him when his team escorted me from the station."

Jeff leaned forward in his chair, which was immediately to the right of Marley's bed. His curiosity was clear as he interjected, "I still can't believe you got them to communicate with us."

"What was the first thing you said, if I may ask?" Dr. Chakwas turned away from the three-dimensional x-ray images on the wall-sized screen across from the bed.

Marley's smile grew bigger. "I asked him if we were successful, and then I said 'let the keepers come, too, we're going to need them'." She reserved almost all of her emotions, save for when the time required it or if she absolutely trusted whomever she was talking to, always preferring actions to words, but she knew how to negotiate in tense situations. "When I realized I was alive I..." but she never felt so helpless than when she first woke after opting to outright destroy the Reapers. It was a moment she'd prepared for, finding closure with everyone she loved and every event she'd lived through. But the moments after all was done, though hazy, were still in her mind.

This was something she felt a desire to share, and the room hosted people she trusted with her life. It would be an emotional discussion, so she readied herself the best she could by taking some paper tissues out of the box on her tray. "My ears were deafened from the explosion. My eyes were light-blind, and everything was dark..." her voice, which she normally spoke with the deeper ends of her range, even macho according to James' interpretation, was shaky and soft. Still, but shaky soft. "I remember hearing creaking metal, the smell of dead bodies and electricity, my own burnt hair, my blood..." It was the first time in many years that she let more than one tear fall in front of people. She let one out earlier, but only one, and to Marley, that didn't count. One tear was a body function, not an act of emotion. This time, there were many. "I could breathe, but I was stuck. I had a re-bar pinning my leg down, and I couldn't move. Then this keeper shows up and says 'we see you, we will help' and starts sautering it in half right there. So I said 'you understand me?' and it said 'we understand you.' So I asked it 'what are you going to do?' and it told me 'we will rebuild. We always rebuild.' She sighed and looked down, 'then it said they could help rebuild earth, since the light beam still worked.' It pulled me out of the wreckage and to a spot where I could see why I was still able to breathe. There had to be a hundred of them - maybe more. They had turned on the environmental shield generator that cover the area that the beam to earth was around, so none of us would implode."

"But how?" Jeff asked. "That place was decimated -- especially at the center!" "You know their little backpacks? They carry generators in them." "Really?" Dr. T'Soni added. "That's quite amazing."

"I know, and there are so many of them that if the Citadel were to burn...well, like it did...they could keep the environment sustained and still have enough keepers left to administer medical help." Marley huffed in a half-laugh. "They really do take care of that place."

Dr. T'Soni was so curious about the keepers. They were a side hobby, next to the Prothean research. "Did you ask them why they have always been so quiet?"

"They weren't allowed to speak. It was the "old machine" that kept them quiet."

T'Soni paused for a moment, and then looked down and away. "Oh, that's very sad. I don’t think I could live without being able to communicate."

"Wait," Jeff again, inquisitive as ever. "Did they actually confirm this?"

"Yes. They confirmed it." The tears were gone, to Marley's inner relief. Her crew seemed to collectively avoid the hard parts of the events and focus on what might be dubbed 'cooler' ones. "Gentlemen," Dr. Chakwas spoke up, "The Commander's visitation hour is coming to a close, and I regret I must ask you to wrap things up." "No problem, Doctor," Jeff said, getting up slowly and safely. James popped up like a slice of toast out of a toaster. "Alright. Joker, Kadera's?"

Jeff grinned. Kadera's Cafe was his favorite cafe in that area of London -- a corner coffee house with rustic ceramic mugs and a real cappuccino maker from the turn of the millennium -- and great hamburgers with real Angus beef, none of that synthetic stuff. "Kadera's it is." He looked up at Dr. T'Soni. "Liara, wanna join us? They have that shrimp soup that you love..."

Marley gave Dr. T'Soni a permissive look, and the Doctor replied, "I believe I will, thank you."

The two men bade farewell to their Commander, and Liara hugged her gently before all three of them left the room, leaving Dr. Chakwas to finish a report she was working on.

"You've built a great team, Commander," she said. "Your dedication to them has reaped you a benefit unsurpassed, and that benefit is loyalty. They love you." She turned away from the images on the screen and looked Marley in the eyes. "And I love you. I am relieved you're still with us."

Marley could feel the emotions building up, but quickly checked them. "I am grateful for them, Dr. Chakwas. Grateful for you. Their being here isn't just on me, it's on them, too. They're a strong team." "And with that, I must go tend to other patients. Your progress is good, believe it or not. You should be able to remove those bandages, this week. It's ashame we couldn't get medigel on it, sooner, or you'd already be healed, except for that leg and collarbone. I expect three more week,s at least, for those breaks to be healed."

"Yeah..." Marley huffed another laugh. "I can do a lot of things, but supporting fifteen hundred pounds of cinder with my femur is not one of them."

Dr. Chakwas laughed. "I suppose you're right. It's good to see you finding a laugh, right now. It will help the healing." She turned for the door. "Get some rest, Commander." Then it was quiet. From her view in the bed, it looked mostly normal. Dr. Chakwas made a point to put her in a room not facing the remains of the Citadel, as she was aware that the emotional and mental trauma that the Commander dealt with may be affected by such a view. All Marley could see was a blue sky, treetops, and a couple of buildings that weren't physically affected by what happened -- and yes, some buildings were miraculously still in tact, for some reason.

She opened her journal, again, and began to write.

It was on fire And everything was trapped in the flames The globe glowing in bright orange trails To see it crawling with purple death machines, And to know that I could do nothing But that we could do everything And we got me there so I could end it And those overlooked salvaged my live So that I could go back to those who sent me.

#mass effect #mass effect fan fiction #is there a tag for this?#oc shepard #femshep #writing #fan fiction #marley shepard

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