Stuff I like :)

So I'm maybe just a liiiiiiittle obsessive, and I wanted to work out the timeline of the show, and figured I'd share it with you all. I can't quite figure out how to format this for tumblr, so I'm going to just c&p images of the tables and then dump all of it in unformatted text I guess under a read more? Please let me know if you can think of a better way for me to do this (without retyping it all!) and please let me know if you see any errors to be corrected.

ETA: I'm sorry, I added some info to ep 6 after rewatching and somehow deleted the table for ep 5? But it's back now!

Bonus: season calendar pics that are not accurate (since the

Boston/Montreal games don't line up)

Metros: 2015-2016:

Boston 2016-2017:

Hopefully some folks will find this interesting and/or a good fic resource!

The episode timelines in unformatted text:

SEBASTIAN STAN as JACK BENJAMIN

Americans:

From Wikipedia: A graham cracker is a sweet flavored cracker made with graham flour.

The next ingredient (which is also extremely traditionally American but slightly more variable) is typically Hershey's chocolate, but you could probably swap this out in the UK with any plain chocolate bar.

Last ingredient is big marshmallows, the kind you do the chubby bunny challenge with, like the size of your thumb and twice as thick.

A proper s'more, the most traditional possible variety, involves to graham cracker squares, two slab segments of Hershey's chocolate, and one to two marshmallows depending on your preference for filling and gooeyness. You put a slab of chocolate on one of the graham cracker squares. Your marshmallows should be toasted, usually over a campfire but if you're doing them at home over a gas stove burner is fine, but the fire part is critical. You can toast them to whatever degree you like, some people like them nice and golden brown but still kind of firm in the middle, me personally? I want that bitch to CATCH ON FIRE, I want it gooey and sticky as hell in the middle, crispy and burnt on the outside. Slap that motherfucker on your graham cracker and chocolate square, top with the other one so your marshmallow and chocolate are sandwiched together by graham cracker on the outside. You do this with your freshly toasted marshmallow because ideally it will be hot enough to start to melt the chocolate so it sticks to the marshmallow and the graham cracker and, combined with the gooey marshmallow, it keeps the whole thing together, and for that reason some people will let them sit for a hot second to let the melting process happen (especially if like me you have chocolate on BOTH graham cracker squares, not just one, because you're a sugar fiend), but if you are a young child you do not have that degree of patience and you eat that shit immediately, unmelted chocolate and all. Consume your summer camp delight like a tiny club sandwich, get gooey sticky marshmallow and chocolate all over your hands, and enjoy.

The first is that you don't pull the marshmallow off the roasting stick and somehow put it on the chocolate. Your staging area will look something like this, with the graham crackers and chocolate already set out (though not usually on the fire like this, for us it was always someone's lap or a picnic table or something)

And when your marshmallow has reached appropriate roasting perfection, you use the graham crackers to slide it off the stick.

and ideally, as a CHILD you are using a literal stick. Like you walked around and spent time looking for The Perfect Stick off the ground while the adults set up the fire. It has to be thin enough the marshmallow will fit, sturdy enough that it won't bow, long enough that you won't burn yourself roasting your marshmallow. And preferably doesn't have a lot of bark that's sloughing off, OR so much bar sloughing off you can peel it all back and get to the clean stick under it. If you're smart, you might stick the tip into the fire first to "wash" it/burn off anything that was still lingering, but. well, most kids don't.

When you bite in, the marshmallow and chocolate SHOULD ooze out all over you. If you don't kinda look like this eating it, you've probably done it wrong:

You find a spot, not above all the logs where everyone sticks their marshmallows by default, but at the heart of the fire. Ideally between a couple logs already glowing gold. Something like here:

Below the leaping flame. Near the logs. There's probably only one or two spots good enough for this on any given fire, but that's okay because everyone else is up above. They will get their marshmallows faster. They will be either firm or burned or both. That's not your goal.

Rotate the marshmallow slowly. Ideally come in at an angle so the part closest to the flame is the side, not the tip. The spot closest to the fire is the spot that turns a crispy golden brown, and you want that everywhere, on the tip and around the circle.

You keep going, slowly turning, for several minutes. Several people will rotate in and out of the higher sections, getting their fast delight. Eventually, your marshmallow will start sagging badly, risking falling. Maybe it does fall and got start over. But eventually it will be golden brown all over, and so liquid it no longer clings to the stick. It is ready, finally.

You say "who hasn't gotten one yet?" And deposit it onto their waiting graham crackers and chocolate. You've made an excellent marshmallow. It isn't for you. Get another while you're over by the bags and go back to the heart of the fire.

That's your evening. One, slow, perfect marshmallow at a time, given to whomever still wants s'more. You're making art for children to stuff into their mouths cheerfully. You're watching the movement of the fire and the heat of the logs, like you would if you were maintaining it — maybe you would be, maybe you were the one who built it — but right now that's not the goal. Let someone else put more logs on, while you take only the one stick and find the best spot for it to live.

You will, eventually, finish a marshmallow and find that nobody moves to accept it. Maybe they're all eating right now, or maybe they've gone through so many they're hesitating. Eat your masterpiece then. Enjoy it, the hardest and most perfect result from a fun and beautiful moment. Go back in for another, until you've run out of marshmallows and the fire is too low or until even you are done with s'mores, until you have made enough.

Live in the US?

Need to call your representative or senator, but nervous about making the phone call?

Do it at 2 am!

I'm not kidding. It will go to voice mail and you don't have to talk to a human person, and your call still counts!

Signed, someone with major phone anxiety who has pushed through it to do this several times now.

Ilya has his feet buried in the sand with Shane leaning under his left arm, his back against Ilya’s side and head resting on his chest as he stares into the fire quietly. He’s holding onto Ilya’s hand that is over his shoulder, idly playing with Ilya’s wedding band.

The last few of the centaur players left from the long evening are scattered around the beach bonfire. Harris has his feet in Troy’s lap next to Shane and Ilya. Wyatt and Luca are side by side on the opposite side of the small fire, and Dykstra is to Ilya’s other side.

“Oh here we go…” Harris says, rolling his eyes over his shoulder to look at Ilya.

“Shuddup,” Wyatt says.

Ilya snorts and catches Shane’s fingers with his, lacing them together when he replies, “Yes, Wyatt, what is it?”

“How’d you—get the, like, those lines, on your like, hips, the fucking—what are they called the fucking V thing—”

“Cum-gutters.” Luca finishes.

Everyone goes quiet.

And even though there’s a fire five feet in front of them all, Luca looks more bright red than he did five seconds ago.

“Cum-gutters.” Wyatt finally breaks the silence by repeating what baby Luca just said to the adults.

“How do you know that word?” Ilya asks Luca with wide eyes.

Luca looks like he could dig a hole in the sand and hid his head in it.

Shane is vibrating from trying to hold in his laugher, it makes Ilya vibrate from holding him. He turns his face into their intwined hands to hide his smile. Harris is slapping at shock at Troy who is staring equally wide eyed as Ilya at Luca. Dykstra has a hand covering his mouth in shock.

“Uh—” Luca begins but gets cut off by a slurring Wyatt this time.

“Cum-gutters. Is that—is it because they catch the cum? Like gutters?” He muses. “Is that true, Roz? Wait, Hollzy, is that true?”

“Oh my god.” Now it’s Shane that is the one turning bright red, and not from the fire.

Ilya leans down a little to kiss the top of Shane’s head and looks back up at Wyatt.

“Yes, Wyatt. It is like gutters on house for the storm of cum that is ejaculated onto me daily.”

“Ilya!” Shane exclaims, moving slightly to turn his head around to look at Ilya in exasperation.

“Woah. Imagined if it rained cum.” Wyatt says, now staring into the fire.

Harris starts moving to their left, getting up with a sigh, “Alright, I think that’s enough drunk hockey players for me. Babe. Bed.”

Troy gets up without argument.

“I agree,” Shane says, getting up. “Ilya, time to go.”

Ilya looks at Wyatt, Luca and Dykstra and shrugs, “Sorry, boys, have to go, the weathman says there is big storm tonight. My gutters are going to get so full.”

Luca is hiding his face in his hands as Wyatt cackles and Dykstra leans over to high five him.

I might've done Ilya a little bit dirty by putting that version of cottage hair on the poll, so here's my apology gifset to the cottage hair truthers <3

And then, suddenly, Shane's voice behind him: "Um, Ilya? What are you doing?" and Ilya realises he's swapping their pillows, like he always does when he's sleeping in a bed that Shane has vacated. Reaching for the pillow that Shane was using, however briefly, bringing it briefly up to his face for a quick sniff of the residual smell of Shane's hair, that distinctive coconutty citrussy shampoo, before dropping it onto his preferred side of the bed so he can tuck his face into it and hold on to the little leftover pieces of Shane for a bit longer.

He twists around to face Shane, bashful and a bit shamefaced, and finds a look of complete and utter understanding. Like maybe Shane, too, is used to scavenging, to rooting for the crumbs of Ilya he's allowed to hold on to.

But tonight they don't need to. For the next two glorious weeks, they don't need to. They can gorge themselves on each other, feast off each other's bodies like kings, find out just how far the limits of their hunger go.

hang it in the louvre