#(yes I know oliver said that about buddie edits but THE POINT STANDS)

[outrunningthedark]

I don't know why people are blaming Oliver? Whatever the man has said has ALWAYS been so vague. The buddie shippers as cool as most of them are were looking at his words & evweyone elses words through their Buddie glasses.

I didn't start using tumblr for 911 until literally last year. I didn't watch interviews, look at edits. None of it. So for me all I saw was 2 dudes on my screen that were best friends and sometimes yes I'd joke they'd be a fun couple. But nothing ever screamed at me that they were in fact secretly in love. Nothing screams queerbaiting.

I hate to be rude but it's the shippers own fault for being upset. They're the ones claiming the show baited them when THEYRE the ones who took the words and twisted it into buddie, they take every scene, every interview and every word someone says and twists it into a buddie narrative. This isn't fanfic lol

Ask the general viewer who doesn't really use social media or follow the show online not one of them would say "oh yeah I'm upset those 2 didn't end up together after the show basically hinted at it" if I didn't use tumblr I'd have ZERO clue this whole couch theory even existed

Idk where I'm even going with this anymore, I just think it's unfair to hate on the show, the actors and the shownrunners for an idea they conjured up in their heads

(First of all, I get your points and I agree!) My biggest thing about the criticism after that episode is that the show runner and Oliver did what they could to NOT suggest Buddie canon this season and the fandom's response was to say "They're not gonna give it away before the episodes!" Even when Kristen takes a question and uses the opportunity to stress the platonic bond or did exactly like Oliver re: Eddie reacting to the lightning strike by explaining that Eddie was always meant to be the one standing the closest to Buck, the fandom can't help but recycle the "Sure, Jan" mockery. Like, no. She told you you're free to headcanon them however you want, she's a supporter of a fanfic and shipping, but how she saw them this season was never going to end up coming close to what the fandom anticipated. And in Oliver's case, he literally said nothing of substance, I'm sorry. The couch theory would be at play right until his final scene. Okay. That told us nothing about who he'd be with in that moment. (Natalia wasn't on my radar, but I thought it could have been a firefam gathering.) Ftr, Oliver made that comment after 6x11, not 6x12, so the fandom couldn't connect any dots about what he was suggesting when it hadn't happened yet. AND, you know what, the fact that he specifically referenced the end of the season was the best thing he could have done. Had he said "You might even see more developments with the couch in the coming weeks *wink wink*" then, YEAH. That'd be fucked up. But he bypassed all of that to emphasize the scene at the very end being the most important. What was he gonna do? Say it was about Buck's new gf when we hadn't even met her yet? And still had a month to go?

[allthe-queens-men]

Day One - Children

John and Roger have been dating for almost a year. They decide to introduce each other to their kids.

………………………………………………………………………………….. 

“Where are we going, Daddy?” Sophie asked, squeezing herself out from between her bickering brothers.

John smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Well, the plan is to go for ice cream, but I don’t think we can go if Junior and Oliver keep poking at one another.” And at the threat of missing out on a treat, the boys were suddenly thick as thieves once more. “A friend of mine is going to be joining us, as well.”

“What friend?” Junior took his sister’s place, leaning forward against the passenger seat.

John gave himself a moment to answer. This whole plan had been equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking since its inception. Roger was the one to bring it up first –“We’ve been together almost a year now. Maybe it’s time we let the kids know.” But he didn’t want to go ahead with that idea without John being onboard with it. And John was. He really was, and really is still now. But, as well as he knows his kids, he doesn’t know how they’ll react to someone special being in his life –and, more importantly, theirs. “Well, he’s been a very… good friend for some time now. And I thought you might like to know who your dad’s spending time with, you know?”

That answer seemed to satisfy Junior’s curiosity for now. John couldn’t see the boy still watching him intently.

Roger was already there when they pulled up to the little storefront. He waved to them, a big grin on his face and a shopping bag at his feet. John smiled softly to himself and put the car in park.

“Is that him?” Oliver asked.

“Yes, that’s Roger. Would you like to go say hello?”

Whether they did or not, they would have to overcome that hurdle first to get into the ice cream parlor. Fortunately Roger came bearing gifts, and after friendly hellos started handing them out to Sophie and Oliver while Junior lagged far behind the group. John hung back a few steps to keep pace with the young teen.

“You okay?”

Junior stubbornly shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you dating him?” he asked with a slight grimace. John sighed inwardly but took the reaction in stride.

“Yes. He and I have been dating almost a year now.”

“Why?”

“Because I like him. Very much.” He forced a smile and a playful nudge. “Sort of like how you like that Anna girl in your maths class.”

Junior hid a blush in his hand, still scowling at the stranger talking excitedly with his little brother and sister. “So what about Mom, then?”

It was an accusation, full of hurt, but one John had been expecting. “He’s never going to replace her. And he has to intention of trying. And I understand this is going to be difficult for you—”

“So then why are you doing it?”

That sent a jolt through John’s chest, like a lightning strike through the heart. “Because… Because he makes me happy. And I hope that, once you get to know him a bit better, he’ll make you happy as well.”

“I don’t want to get to know him.”

“Daddy! Junior!” Sophie called back to them, holding up a stuffed bear too large to hug all the way around. “Roger got us presents!”

Inside they waited in a short queue to order their treats. Sophie reliably chose a rocky road waffle cone; Oliver went for one scoop of pistachio and one of strawberry; Junior got a cup of chocolate peanut butter. Both dads got milkshakes. They gathered around a little brightly colored table in the corner. Junior pushed himself so far back that he could’ve fallen right into the drywall. For a few minutes they made pleasant conversation, except for the eldest child, who just wanted to shoot laser beams from his eyes right through the intruder’s skull. But Roger didn’t seem fazed.

“Oh! I didn’t give you your gift yet, did I?” He reached down into his bag and pulled out a clumsily-wrapped box. “I hope you like it.”

Junior snatched the parcel away, quite confident he would hate it until he tore into the paper. A limited edition Star Wars Lego set. “… Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you get me Legos?”

“Oh, your dad said he got you something similar for your birthday, but that you didn’t have this kit specifically.” He laughed. “Almost fought a soccer mum for it in the middle of the toy store.”

Junior stared down at the box clutched tightly in his hands. His birthday was nine months ago. “… There are more pieces to the collection. This is just the main kit.”

“Wanted to have something to give you for your next birthday.” Roger gave a little wink.

“… Yeah. Okay.” He put it down in the seat next to him. “But now you promised. So now you have to get it for me.”

Roger nodded and took a sip of his shake, eyes smiling discreetly at his boyfriend. John felt the skies clear in his soul, even for just this small victory.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

“I promise, she’s going to love you.”

The assurance was genuine, and John knew it. But he also knew that, sitting in Roger’s car outside the daycare center, no reassuring words could put him at ease. “I’m alright,” he said, letting Roger run in to pick up his daughter. They were going to the zoo –“Hazel’s favorite place in the world”— John dared to hope it would go at least half as well as Roger’s first time meeting his own children, but the doubt sat like a large marble in his stomach.

Hazel said nothing to him when she got in the car. She had her face buried in the zoo brochure, carefully studying it and telling her father where she wanted to go. They were halfway there when Roger decided to introduce them. “Hazel, baby, this is my friend John. Can you say hello?”

She looked up at John, who gave her a nervous smile. “Hi.”

“Hello, Hazel. It’s very nice to finally meet you.” He wanted to talk to her more, but any other words were blocked by the lump in his throat. Hazel’s nose was buried in a picture book, anyway.

They arrived to the zoo and the little girl was immediately tugging on Roger’s hand in the direction of the reptile house. “Snakes, Daddy!”

He laughed softly and let himself be dragged. “Yes, we’ll go see the snakes. But we’re passing by so many interesting little critters in the meantime –why don’t we give them a chance to impress us?”

Hazel’s face bore all the skepticism a four-year-old could muster, but did change course to detour via the red panda exhibit. John trailed behind them with a tight smile on his face, feeling very much like an outsider and wondering how he could win Hazel over, or at least make sure she was comfortable in his presence without having to cling to her dad’s leg.

Roger was seamlessly dividing his attention between his excited little girl and his anxious boyfriend. He picked Hazel up so she could get a better view of the animals, and gestured for John to come stand next to them, Hazel between them on his hip. “Do you have any red panda facts you can share with John?”

She let out a long “um” as she thought. “They’re not actually pandas!”

Roger gasped. “Really? Could’ve fooled me!”

“And this one’s name Mica!”

John laughed softly. “Well, if they aren’t pandas, then what are they?”

But Hazel didn’t answer, watching as one in the enclosure moved from one tree branch to another. John knew enough about children that he didn’t feel ignored, but he couldn’t exactly count it as a win, either.

They saw the skunks, the beavers, and the otters before Hazel grew too impatient to put off the reptile house any longer, but Roger made it clear to her first that they were here to see all the animals, even if they spent the most time looking at the snakes. Hazel gave an excited nod as she pulled him toward the building.

It was dark inside, and filled with unique little habitats behind glass, as well as some larger tanks for larger creatures. Hazel darted excitedly from one to another to another. Roger kept an eye on her but let her run about, so long as she wasn’t causing trouble, and helped her read the plaques when she asked for assistance. John kept himself at some distance, watching the two read about various snakes and what the zoo had named them.

“Daddy, do you think there’s a snake with my name?”

“There might be. Let’s keep looking.”

The wheels started to turn in John’s head. He sought out a keeper of the snake house. “Hello, may I ask a favor?”

The woman greeted him with a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

John pointed back in the pair’s direction. “The little girl right there is looking for a snake that shares her name, Hazel. Is there anything we can do to give her that?”

The zookeeper kept the smile on her face. “Every hour we bring out a docile little corn snake for the guests to touch. I think today we can call her Hazel.”

John grinned and thanked her at least three times before rejoining the others. On his return, Roger gave him a questioning look at the huge grin he was barely suppressing (of course happy that John was happy, but curious as to what caused the sudden change in demeanor). John just chewed his lip and let the surprise stay a secret for now. Roger didn’t have the chance to ask questions, anyway, as he was tugged along by a small and unusually strong child.

At three on the dot, the zookeeper called around for anyone who would like to come pet the corn snake, and Hazel was immediately bee-lining for the opportunity. Roger had to jog just to keep a step behind her. John followed at a brisk but casual pace. There was already a line by the time they made it over, and Hazel was whining as she stood on tiptoes to spot her goal. Roger laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her balanced, and to pull her gently against his thigh. “We’ll get a turn. I’m sure they won’t put the snake buddy away until everyone’s gotten a turn to see him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I do believe so. Why don’t we tell John what we’ve been learning about the snakes we’ve seen so far?”

She looked up at John and huddled closer to her father’s legs, burying her face in his jeans. Roger gave John a sympathetic look. John was still all smiles.

After five minutes that felt like an eternity to Hazel, it was finally her turn to see the snake up close. “I know a lot about snakes,” she told the zookeeper.

“Oh, really? Well, do you know what this little girl is called?”

“It’s a corn snake!”

“Very good!”

Hazel ran a few fingers down the docile creature’s back, giggling. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Hazel.”

Hazel (the girl, not the snake) stood there in rapt awe, mouth hanging open so far one might think she was the one who could unhinge her jaw. “That’s—… That’s my name!”

The woman feigned surprise. “Is it really?”

“Yes! That’s really my name, my daddy can tell you! Daddy! My name’s Hazel too, right?”

Roger laughed softly. If anyone might’ve been more elated than Hazel herself, it was her father at her reaction. “Yes, your name’s Hazel.”

“So I share a name with a snake! A little corn snake!”

His eyes flash to John, for just a second. “You do?”

She’s bouncing on her heels but is still very gentle with the snake. She enjoys every second of the minute she has before it’s the next person’s turn, but even when she has to leave the smile remained on her face. “Bye bye, other Hazel!” she called as Roger led her out the back, John coming alongside them. There was an ice cream stand just outside, and John, high on pride, offered to buy some before realizing he had only two pounds in his pocket. Roger laughed, pecked him on the cheek when his daughter wasn’t looking, and ordered two vanilla cones.

They sat at a picnic table to eat their snack. They some a few minutes in pleasant quiet, surrounded by the noises of other zoo patrons, and Hazel was slurping melted ice cream out of the cone she shared with her father before she spoke up. “John?”

John’s ears perked up. “Yes, Hazel?”

“Corn snakes look like copperheads, but they aren’t venomous like copperheads.”

He grinned brightly. “I didn’t know that, Hazel. You’re very clever.”

She smiled, tucked her chin against her chest, and handed the empty cone to Roger.

Hazel fell asleep in the car ride home, and slept through Roger carrying her upstairs and tucking her into bed with a little kiss to her head. He left the door ajar but headed back downstairs to where John waited to say goodbye.

John didn’t expect the goodbye kiss to be so passionate. But maybe he should’ve.

[dustedandsocial]

Little Steven vs. Paul Simon

From an interview on Kick Out The Jams with Dave Marsh. Little Steven ripping into Paul Simon for violating a boycott in South Africa during Apartheid.

Dave Marsh: I was with you the first time you saw Paul and talked to him about this, at [entertainment attorney] Peter Parcher’s 60th birthday party.

Van Zandt: That’s right, that’s right, that’s right! I’m glad you were a witness, because wait’ll you hear the latest on that. Anyway, I said to them [the U.N.], “Listen, this is not gonna help anybody if you knock off Paul Simon. Trust me on this, alright? Let’s put that aside for the moment. Give me a year or so, you know, six months,” whatever I asked for, “to try and do this a different way. I’m trying to actually unify the music community around this, which may or may not include Paul Simon, but I don’t want it to be a distraction. I just don’t need that distraction right now; I gotta keep my eye on the ball.” And I took him off that assassination list, I took Paul Simon off the U.N. blacklist, trying to… You mean you convinced them to take him off…

Yeah, because this was a serious thing…

Because this was gonna eat up the attention that the movement itself needed.

Yes, and the European unions were serious about this stuff, man. You were on that [U.N. blacklist], you did not work, okay? Not like America, which was so-so about this stuff, man. Over there, they were serious about this stuff, you know? Anyway, so yeah, this was in spite of Paul Simon approaching me at that party saying, “What are you doing, defending this communist?!” What he said was, “Ah, the ANC [African National Congress, the organization of which Mandela was President at the time of his arrest and imprisonment], that’s just the Russians.” And he mentioned the group that [murdered black South African activist Steven Biko] had been in, which was not AZAPO…

Was he PAC [Pan-Africanist Congress]?

It doesn’t matter [for this story], but [Paul Simon] said, “That’s just the Chinese communists.”

Yeah, yeah. And he says, “What are you doing defending this guy Mandela?! He’s obviously a communist. My friend Henry Kissinger told me about where all of the money’s coming from,” and all of this. I was, like, all due respect, Paul…

I remember it very vividly, because it was aimed at everybody standing in the general direction.

Yeah, but mostly he was telling me.

Well, yeah, you were the one… Everybody knew who to get mad at first. [laughter]

He knew more than me, he knew more than Mandela, he knew more than the South African people. His famous line, of course, was, “Art transcends politics.” And I said to him, “All due respect, Paulie, but not only does art not transcend politics… art is politics. And I’m telling you right now, you and Henry Kissinger, your buddy, go fuck yourselves.” Or whatever I said. But he had that attitude, and he knowingly and consciously violated the boycott to publicize his record.

Well, to make his record. That’s the violation of the boycott — to make his record.

Yeah, and he actually had the nerve to say, “Well, I paid everybody double-scale.” Remember that one? Oh, that’s nice… no arrogance in that statement, huh? [laughter]

Now, the punchline. Cut to 30 years later, or whatever it is. He asked me to be in his movie [Under African Skies, the documentary on the making of Graceland, included as a DVD in the album’s 25th anniversary boxed edition]. I said, “Alright, I’ll be in your movie, if you don’t edit me. You ready to tell it like it is?”

He says, “Yep.”

“Are you, like, uh, apologizing in this movie?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. I’m not gonna be a sore winner. I’ll talk to you.”

I did an interview. They show me the footage. Of course, they edited the hell out of it to some little statement where I’m saying something positive about Paul. [laughter] And I see the rest of the footage, where he’s supposedly apologizing, with Dali Tambo [founder of Artists Against Apartheid and son of late ANC leaders Adelaide and Oliver Tambo]. He says, “I’m sorry if I made it inconvenient for you.” That was his apology.

In other words, he still thinks he’s right, all these years later! You’re the only person who’s ever met Paul twice who thinks that’s surprising. [laughter] I mean, at this point, you still think you were right?! Meanwhile, that big “communist,” as soon as he got out of jail, I see who took the first picture with him. There’s Paul Simon and Mandela, good buddies. I’m watchin’ CNN the other day. Mandela dies, on comes a statement by Bono and the second statement’s by Paul Simon. I’m like oh, just make me throw up. You know, I like the guy in a lot of ways, I do; and I respect his work, of course. He’s a wonderful, wonderful artist, but when it comes to this subject, he just will not admit he was wrong. Y’know, just mea culpa. Come on, you won! He made twenty, thirty million dollars at least, okay? Take the money and apologize, okay? I mean, say “Listen, maybe I was wrong about this a little bit.” No. Well…unfortunately we live in a country where the money means you don’t have to apologize, and let’s leave that there.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - For the baby sisters

(edit by victori96572376 on twitter) 

“I like it here.”

With a content smile on her lips, Emmy leaned back against her father’s chest. She rested her head against his shoulders, lifting her hands to frame his face and stroke her fingertips through the short stubble. Oliver ducked his head a little and winked at her, and Emmy beamed back at him in response.

“I like it here, too,” Tommy said eventually, looking up from the picture he was drawing and adjusting his position by pushing his feet under his butt, so he sat higher. Then he let the pen fall to the tabletop and grabbed his glass of ice tea with both of his hands. “And I like the ice tea.”

“It’s a great one,” Oliver replied and took a sip of his own ice tea as he looked at his son, smiling at him. “Do you want another one?”

Tommy shook his head, continuing to draw. Oliver leaned back with a low sigh, wrapping his arms around Emmy and pulling her closer against him. Emmy dropped her head against his shoulder. Oliver turned his head and looked over at the ocean.

He felt like he couldn’t thank Felicity enough for planning this vacation on Bali. The last years had brought a lot of stress for them. Apart from their already stressful nightly activities, two pregnancy depressions and raising four kids really hadn’t made anything easier. Then Felicity had been leading and improving the company which had taken a lot of work, too. There had barely been time for them to go on vacation or maybe they just hadn’t taken the time. Either way, they had needed something like this.

“Daddy?” Tommy asked after a while, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“What’s up, Sweetie?” Oliver asked back.

“When’s Millie’s birthday?”

“The week after we come back home,” Emmy replied and turned her head back over her shoulder to look at Oliver. “Right, Daddy?”

Oliver nodded. “Right. First there is daddy’s and mommy’s anniversary and then-“

“What’s that?” Tommy asked. “Annivary?”

“An-ni-ver-sa-ry,” Oliver said slowly.

“It’s like the birthday of mommy’s and daddy’s wedding,” Emmy explained and looked at Oliver once more. “Right?”

“Right,” Oliver replied with a smile and a nod of his head. “How do you know?”

“Mommy told me.”

“Of course, she did.” Oliver smiled. “Why do you ask about Millie’s birthday, though, Buddy?”

“We need to buy her a present,” Tommy replied. “For her birthday.”

Oliver nodded. “Absolutely. Why don’t we wait until mommy is awake after her nap, so we can ask her to come with us?”

“But then Millie is coming, too,” Emmy told him. “She can’t see her present before her birthday.”

Oliver nodded. “You are absolutely right.”

“Can we go now?” Tommy asked.

“Oh, yes!” Emmy exclaimed excitedly. “Let’s go now, Daddy! Please.”

Oliver chuckled at the pleading expression in both of his children’s eyes. He nodded towards the boardwalk with its little shops. “Let’s take a look at the presents Bali offers for your little baby sister.”

“We buy a present for the baby, too?” Tommy asked as he closed his coloring book and handed it over for Oliver to take.

“Yes, a plushy animal for the baby to have,” Emmy agreed with her little brother, nodding her head furiously. “Like I have my pink giraffe. Maybe she can have a purple elephant or something.”

“A blue Pegasus.”

“But, Tommy, the baby is going to be a girl!” Emmy replied.

“Woah, who said that?” Oliver asked, looking from Emmy to Tommy and back at Emmy again. He and Felicity hadn’t told anyone that the baby was going to be a girl. Felicity had wanted to keep it a secret, and Oliver had agreed. Telling the kids would have made the information spread like wildfire. “Why do you think that?”

Emmy grinned cheekily. “I heard you and mommy talking and you called the baby ‘sweetheart’ like you call Millie and me sometimes, but never Tommy.”

“Maybe mommy and I just don’t know whether it’s a boy and a girl, and that is why we call the baby ‘sweetheart’.”

Emmy cocked her head, giving him a look like only Felicity could do usually. Oliver had to bite his tongue to keep himself from chuckling. Emmy was so much like her mother that it never failed to amaze him. Yet, there were moments when Felicity would swear that Emmy was just like him. He could only guess that that had to mean she had the right amount of both of her parents.

“The baby is going to be a baby girl, right?” Emmy asked.

Oliver hesitated. He had promised not to tell anyone about the baby being a girl, but now that the kids knew already, he felt it didn’t make any sense to lie to them. Emmy and Tommy looked at him expectantly, their big, blue eyes.

“Don’t tell your mom I told you,” Oliver said with a sigh. Emmy clapped her hands happily, while Tommy made a face. Oliver cocked his head at his son. “What’s wrong, Buddy? You don’t like the idea of having another sister?”

“Does it have to be a girl?” he asked.

Oliver smiled sympathetically. Tommy had had so many troubles when Millie had been born, the fact that he was now only complaining about the baby being a girl felt like a huge step forward. What three-year-old would prefer a baby sister over a baby brother? Yet, he felt sorry for his son. Having to be put through having another sibling when he had just gotten used to the last one that had joined the family couldn’t be easy.

“I think it does,” Oliver said, nodding his head, and Tommy sighed in response. Oliver puckered his lips. “Bad?”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “The next is a boy then.”

Oliver mumbled to himself how he had never thought his little boy would actually want a fifth sibling after everything he had been through when Millie had been born. Then he took the last sip of his ice tea and clapped his hands.

“Let’s go shopping?” he asked the kids.

“Yes!” Emmy and Tommy replied in chorus.

Oliver grabbed Tommy’s coloring book at the set of pens before he dropped some money on the table and got up. The kids were running ahead, Emmy holding Tommy’s hand in hers tightly to make sure she wasn’t losing her little brother at the boardwalk. Oliver followed a few steps behind them, enjoying how content and happy they were here.

As much as he and Felicity had needed this vacation, he felt the kids had needed it too. They had sensed that something had been wrong with their mother and they had worried about her. The little distraction and the quality family time to spend here was good for them. Besides, Oliver had always wanted to show the kids more of the world. If it hadn’t been for his and Felicity’s responsibilities, he might have actually spent the last years traveling with his loved ones. As long as they didn’t have to go to school, it would have been the perfect opportunity. He probably wouldn’t have met William then, though, so it had probably been better the way it had been.

“Daddy, look!” Emmy suddenly said, pointing at one of the small shops.

Oliver turned his head and smiled at the sight of the baby store. He had thought they would have to leave the beach, but today seemed to be his lucky day.

“Come on, let’s take a look if we find something for Millie and the baby there,” Oliver suggested, nodding towards the store.

When they entered the store, Oliver smiled. The store seemed to be small and intimate, hence, just what he needed. When Emmy was about to run ahead to one of the shelves, Oliver quickly caught her hand to keep her from running. She looked at him with questioning eyes and Oliver gave her a look, making sure she knew that he didn’t want her to run in here. Emmy nodded, so when Oliver let go of her hand, she walked over to the shelf slowly. In the meantime, Tommy reached out his hands for Oliver, so he picked him up into his arms.

“You okay, Buddy?” Oliver asked.

Tommy nodded and whispered, “Don’t want to break something.”

Oliver smiled and kissed his boy’s cheek. “That’s good. Shall we see what Emmy has found?”

When Tommy nodded, Oliver went over to where Emmy was standing in front of the shelf with the stuffed animals. She was looking at the toys so focused that Oliver actually wondered if she even realized that he and Tommy had joined her. He moved his hand over the top of her head and Emmy leaned back against his leg, angling her head back to look at him.

“Did you find something you like?” he asked her.

“Maybe the sheep,” Emmy replied, pointing at one of the stuffed animals.

“You mean this one?” Oliver asked, taking the plush toy from the shelf. “It looks more like a cloud than a sheep, but-“

“No, Daddy, I want the donkey!” Emmy interrupted him.

Oliver put the lamb back into the shelf and took the donkey from it instead. There was barely a face visible under all the grey plush, but once Oliver moved his hand over the stuffed animals face a little, he uncovered two big eyes. The pleading expression in them in addition to the long ears made it the most adorable thing he had ever seen. Well, most adorable apart from his children and a peacefully sleeping Felicity of course!

„That is what you want?” he asked Emmy with a smile and the young girl nodded. Oliver looked at Tommy, playfully pinching his side, when he realized that the boy wasn’t paying attention. What do you think, Buddy! Will your baby sister like this?”

Tommy grabbed the plushy animal and held it to his face. “It’s plushy.”

“So you like it?” Emmy asked.

Tommy nodded his head. “The baby will like it, too.”

Oliver smiled and kissed his son’s check. “Thanks for your help with the decision, Tommy. Day is really happy that you helped.”

Tommy smiled proudly and leaned his head against Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver rubbed his hand over his son’s back and winked at Emmy, who watched her brother and father with a for her quite unusual smile of insecurity. When Oliver reached out a hand for her to pull her closer against him, her smile grew more relaxed, though.

“So, let’s try finding something for Millie, right?” Oliver suggested. “We don’t want to let mommy wait, and I am sure she and Millie want to spend time at our beach today after their nap.”

“Maybe we can-“

“I know what to get for Millie!” Tommy interrupted his older sister.

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. “Shoot.”

Tommy pointed at something behind Oliver, so he turned around to look at what his son suggested.

“Cool,” Emmy replied. She grinned at her dad. “Can we get that for Millie, Daddy?”

Oliver looked at the zebra rocking horse. Emmy and Tommy had both used the old rocking horse Oliver and Thea had used already. Tommy had used it to exhaustion until it had literally fallen apart right under his diapered butt. Millie was slowly getting into an age that would allow her to have fun with a rocking horse, so replacing it was probably a good idea.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s a perfect gift for Millie.”

“Mom my think so, too?”

Again, Oliver nodded. Yes, I am sure of that. Mommy will love it. And do you two know what else mommy is going to agree over with daddy?”

“What?” Tommy asked.

“You two,” Oliver started and tapped the tip of his finger against the tip of his kids noses, “are the best older siblings your two baby sisters could have wished for.”

“Tommy, me and William,” Emmy corrected.

“Right.” Oliver smiled and nodded. “Let’s pay and then get back to mommy and Millie, yes?”

“Yes!” both kids agreed in chorus, making Oliver chuckle.

“Good, then let’s do this.”

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[uterusclub]

I can’t say for sure how we initially stumbled upon the brilliant idea of having a ‘clown party’ but approximately three years ago, it’s magnificence was born.

If I had to guess, I’d hypothesize the concept spawned from a casual night of sitting around discussing terrible horror movies featuring clowns which (naturally) snowballed into designating an all-clown movie marathon of sorts. But that wasn’t enough. We needed elaboration. But how? With what? Food? Yes, of course, food! And so, it was decided, traditionally speaking, that ‘clown food’ would be incorporated into our parties. Last year we got a little overly-ambitious and made the entire day a marathoning of clown foods included pancakes, burgers, pizza and cake which we discovered to be too much a. time b. effort and c. food. So now we stick to the basics: pizza and cake. Generic party food? Yes. But not in the way we fashion them…

Clown Cake | Year 1

Clown Cake | Year 2

The pizza. The first year we arranged our clown party, I used my expert, investigative skills and discovered a pizza place called Little Clown Pizza. I was in awe. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Or could it? Because in our minds this still just wasn’t enough. What if . . . what if we requested they make a clown pizza? Yes! Each and every year, we fatefully ordered a ‘clown pizza’ from a nearby restaurant and awaited the potential horror or delight of their interpretation. First year? Our pizza was practically inedible. I recall there being mustard and ketchup involved (dear god, why?). Last year? Last year was a slight step up – although they did incorporate black olives which is a huge no-no for us. But it was definitely progress.

Clown Pizza | Year 1

Clown Pizza | Year 2

And as for this year…

Friday the thirteenth. We had been looking forward to this day for weeks now and our game-plan was set. First, start the cake – then, walk to Rex Tavern down the street to take a photo (explanation on this soon), after that – order pizza while cake cools, then – start movies and finish decorating cake during intermission. Solid plan.

Having already, anxiously accumulated our baking gear earlier in the week, Sharon began making our clown cake utilizing some freshly bought skull pans she’d purchased. Our shit was going 3d this year! I had my doubts, though. I honestly felt this was just way too ambitious for a bunch of amateurs. I mean, fondant? Yikes! This was a whole other playing field of baking. But Sharon was convinced we had this in the bag. Or rather, she did. I was mainly planning on watching (and drinking).

As the cake pan came out of the oven to cool, we headed out down the street to a nearby bar called Rex Tavern in Jefferson Park. Now this is generally not a part of our clown party tradition, however, we had both seen (on several occasions), the bar’s elaborate Halloween decorations which entailed a huge, creepified clown hanging in their front window. This was a must for our party! Walking over, our Moscow mules were in full effect. Perhaps I had made our drinks a tad bit strong earlier. In any case, there was no way we were sitting down for a drink – especially when we could as easily walk back home and have more, free drinks! So instead of actually going inside Rex’s and being good patrons, we skulked outside for a couple, quick pictures before heading back to the apartment at which point, we happened upon an additional window display featuring a clown. What are the odds? And with a snap, snap – bonus photo!

Rex Tavern | Chicago, IL

Jefferson Park | Chicago, IL

Back at the apartment, we began that most pleasant of activities: the ordering of the clown pizza. It was, conveniently, at this point when Sharon’s PTSD from last year kicked in.

“It’s your turn to call” she insisted.

I obliged immediately – for I have no shame. And for added dramatics and pleasure, we video recorded the entire phone exchange – although thanks to Sharon’s mom calling mid process, the recording cut out after being placed on hold. But to summarize, we called the Bacci’s Pizza joint down the street from us and explained our ‘situation’ before placing the order which, as anticipated, was met with delightful silence. Shortly thereafter, I was asked to be placed on hold to run our request passed the restaurant manager. Ten minutes later, our request was underway! Apparently the ten minute delay was the result of waiting on several cooks attempting to pull up clown images on their phones for artistic reference. We laughed, requested no olives, and were charged the price of a pepperoni pizza.

Now back to that cake.

Having finally cooled, Sharon commandeered the cakes from the skull pans with minor difficulty and coated them with a crumb layer of frosting for further refrigeration before covering with fondant. So, what now? It was movie time! On our agenda this year was Killer Clowns from Outer Space and a more recent flick simply titled, Clown. We began with KCFOS for no particular reason but I’m sort of glad we did. If you’ve never seen it, first off, how? If you have, well, you probably know where this going. Killer popcorn, cotton-candy cocoons, the excessive usage of ‘buddy’ and ‘pal – I mean, this movie has it all, really – not to mention the pizza-delivery scene! What perfection!

Once pizza arrived, I suggested to Sharon we video record the reveal to which she enthusiastically agreed. For dramatics, I slow-motioned the entire thing which tech-savvy Sharon said she could just edit on her phone. She’s fancy.

In any case, this year’s pizza was, I’d say, par from last year’s. It wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t anything impressive either. I feel fairly confident that if the tables were turned, I could knock out some super impressive clown artwork. But, that’s all in the fun – the not knowing. Perhaps next year we’ll brief the restaurant with images from past years – give them some idea as to the type of standards we’re working with. Wouldn’t take much to up the ante at this point.

After pizza was consumed and KCFOS was over, we reverted our attention back to the clown cake. Sharon rolled out some white fondant and covered the skull head quite impressively while I covered a cake ball with red fondant for a nose and two additional balls with white fondant for eyes. And while our clown cake was only loosely based on the ‘It’ clown, Sharon had come across some vampire-teeth candy corns to use and as such, found herself doctoring up a mouth hole. We then skewered the cavities into the mouth using toothpicks – all the while knowing we had no actual intention of consuming any part of this sugar-coated death-trap. Sharon smeared on some red lip coloring while I attached a jumbo red nose and two ridiculously bulky eyeballs topped with gummy pupils into the eye sockets.

“Ah, I think the balls are too much” Sharon replied.

“Yeah, it’s a little ‘AHHHHHHHHHHH'” I laughed.

So, we removed the eyeballs and reattached the gummy pupils. Much better. And now for the eyebrows. Fortunately, I had already decided earlier that morning to wear my ‘It’ t-shit so I was Sharon’s point of reference. As she stenciled along, drippage began – followed shortly by panic. Luckily, the drippage was short-lived but unfortunately, my suggestions were not.

“Are you going to do anything under the eye?” I asked.

“You think I should?”

“I mean, I think it’ll stand out more.”

And that was the beginning and end of my terrible ideas. Sharon did her best to outline the entire eye but ended up dripping into the pupils which had to be replaced with fresh gummies. By the time all was said and done, I had much regret. But the project was still not finished! Hair! This clown needed hair! Since day one Sharon had been going on and on about buying a cotton candy machine so we could make hair for this but I outright refused. Total waste. And cotton candy is awful. Regardless, I had gifted Sharon a bag of cotton candy last Easter that she had apparently forgotten all about. Poor guy had just been sitting in our cabinets collecting dusk and dreaming of the day his destiny would fall upon him – dreaming of becoming clown hair. Several toothpicks later, we had hair-plugged the shit out of this cake and it looked . . . well, actually, pretty decent. Still – there was no way this thing was being consumed.

“What should we do with it?” I asked.

“We can throw it in the river?”

I busted into laughter.

“What? . . . . what did you just say? This isn’t a dead body, Sharon!”

“No, didn’t they do that in the movie?”

“Uh . . . let’s just sleep on this one . . . ”

I later came up with an awesome master-plan of bringing the cake to a nearby restaurant I love called The Big Top and leaving it in the parking lot after hours as it would be super ironic and mysterious (not to mention creepy)! But after I called the restaurant to check their hours, it appeared the timing would have been quite impossible since there was no way we were going out after 9pm on a Sunday!

The night wrapped up with our final movie viewing: Clown. Now there isn’t really too much to say about it. Short synopsis: guy finds old clown suit in his house and puts it on for his kid’s birthday party ; guy can’t get clown suit off and finds out it’s stuck to him and eventually turns him into a demon (hate when that happens); guy eventually gets killed by his wife. And that’s about it. It was pretty gory, to say the least. It was also unamusing since we were both super exhausted that late at night and barely paying attention anyway. When we finally did turn in for bed, Sharon bid me adieu.

“I’m probably going to dream about clowns tonight” she proclaimed.

Scuffling off to bed I wondered if the Bacci cooks were all anticipating the same.

Clowning Around I can't say for sure how we initially stumbled upon the brilliant idea of having a 'clown party' but approximately three years ago, it's magnificence was born.