#that’s what some of y’all sound like when you talk about plastic surgery

[quidam-sirenae]

God I hate the whole “well I think trans people should have medical access easier but cosmetic surgeries should have more hoops attached to them” because newsflash! It’s REALLY hard to differentiate what is cosmetic and what is medical. Boob reduction? Generally medical but classified as cosmetic. Reasons someone could be getting a rhinoplasty can range from “I wanted to look different” to “I cannot breath through my nose due to the way my body was made.” And also. Why should we restrict adults doing what they want with their own bodies? Even if they do want to change the way they look? Of course we live in a beauty oriented culture and that culture is disgusting but the solution to that is not “let’s limit what adults can do with their bodies” it’s “hey what if anyone could do whatever they wanted with their bodies regardless of stigma?” Dress how you want. Present the gender you’d like to. Wear your hair or lack thereof however you’d like. Yes, even get cosmetic surgeries to fit those bullshit beauty standards. Because believe it or not, any adult, cis or trans, should have full autonomy over their own body and what they do with it

[winterscaptain]

permanent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: just in case you missed it, i published a family tree for the hotchners! at this point, jack is married to bella and living in d.c. she’s a journalist for the washington division at the new york times and is generally pretty awesome. as always, lemme know what you think!

words: 3.1k warnings: language, hospital setting, canon-typical injury

summary: “write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble” - benjamin franklin. au!december 2035

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Come on, Soph! Go, baby, go!”

Your daughter is a vision. She streaks across the field, her green and yellow uniform almost melding with the grass as she keeps control of the ball. You can’t see her face too clearly, but you know she’s scanning the field with the same intensity you see in Aaron’s face beside you. 

Isaac plops down on the bench behind you, home from Los Angeles for winter break. “How’s she doing?” 

Aaron half-turns his head, keeping his eyes on the field. “Going for a hat trick - if she makes it, it’ll be her third this season.” 

“Excellent.” 

Caroline, down the field with her choir group, lounges happily between the legs of one of her friends, eating popcorn. When she sees you looking, she waves at you.

You wave back for a moment before your attention’s caught by a collective gasp and Aaron’s hand shoots to your forearm. You turn back to the field, but you missed it. 

Everyone’s moving and you don’t know why. 

With shocking agility for his age, Aaron all but leaps down the bleachers and onto the field. Your eyes search for Soph, but there are too many people on the field, all of a sudden. 

Caroline’s standing on the seat of the bleachers, her friends steadying her with their hands on her arms and ankles. 

There’s a hand, soft and scared on your shoulder. “Mom?”

You open your arms, and your nearly-grown son ducks under it, curling into you as you stand. “Do you want your earbuds?” 

You feel him nod and you pull them out of your bag. His trembling quiets a little after he fits them in his ears. 

There’s a clamber, and Caroline appears at your side. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching.” 

She exhales, shaky and worried. “Where’s Dad?” 

“On the field.”

But where? 

You find Aaron, his salt-and-pepper hair stark in the autumn light. He’s talking to the referee, his brows low. 

You hear sirens. 

+++

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Mom?” 

You almost hate to ruin his mood. 

“Jack, honey, can you get down to the house at any point tonight?” 

You try not to grip the handle above the car door too tightly as Aaron races through the suburban streets, following the ambulance. Soph was definitely lucid when they loaded her up, but definitely in a lot of pain. 

“Ye - Yeah...Why?” 

“Soph’s headed to the ER - something happened on the soccer pitch today and her knee…” You shake your head. “I dunno. Her knee looks really bad.” 

“Fuck. Okay.” You hear him shuffle around and click his mouse - checking his schedule. “I can get down there after my last meeting at four - I’m headed there in a few minutes, but won’t be able to swing any earlier. I’d cancel it, but it’s literally SecDef and the Joint Chiefs and -” 

“That’s fine - I just need someone at the house with the kids until one of us can get back. Elliot’s at baseball practice until six and I’m not sure if -” 

“I’ll be there. I’ll get El and then I’ll swing by for Isaac and Caro if they’re still with y’all down there.” 

You glance over at Aaron and nod. He heaves a sigh of relief and mouths Thank you. 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

“Yeah. See you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.”

+++

When you’re finally allowed in to see Sophia, her eyes are red and puffy with tears. Her right leg is braced and elevated at the knee. 

Her doctor explains the situation - dislocated knee and splintered patella with a torn meniscus and ACL. “This kind of traumatic knee injury poses a couple of issues…” 

He explains that the rehabilitation and surgery needs for both the ACL and meniscus are exceedingly different, and “It’s entirely possible Miss Sophia will experience permanent joint damage. However, we won’t know that until we have an orthopaedic surgeon look at it tomorrow.” 

“What about sports? Can I still play?” Soph tries to sit up farther, but Aaron’s arm shoots out, locking her against the bed across her shoulders. 

The doctor looks hesitant, and it’s all she needs to burst into tears again. Aaron moves, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms. He looks over her head at you and your lower lip disappears into your mouth as you meet his gaze. 

You shift your attention to your other children sitting patiently behind you.

Caroline’s practically bit her nails to the quick - her hands looking more and more like her Aunt Emily’s as the moments pass. 

Isaac’s been sitting in the wide windowsill for the entire afternoon, his headphones on, staring out the window, his mouth tight and fingers tearing into the foam stress ball you keep in your purse. 

We’ll need another one of those. Or five.

 You get a phone call, and you step out. “Hey, Jack.” 

“Hey. Just got Elliot. We’re headed over to the hospital now. How’s she doing?” 

You sigh and press a hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, shit. That bad?” He asks. 

You don’t comment on his tell pickup. It’s in his blood, at this point. “Yeah. She’s definitely out for the rest of the season, and we’re looking at some long-term stuff, too.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Hey! I’m still here and she’s gonna kick your ass if you keep swearing in front of me, dude.” Elliot shouts from the back and it almost makes you smile. 

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you, Jack. We’ve got a dislocated and splintered patella in addition to a torn meniscus and ACL. It’s going to be a long rehab.” 

You hear a deep sigh into the bluetooth system in Jack’s car. “Well, I’ll stay here for the duration.” 

“No, no honey it’s alright. Your dad is home full-time and you’ve got a huge project reaching critical stages. Your room is all ready for you, but you really don’t have to hang around if you can’t manage the drive every day. And Bella -”

“Bells is looped in. She’s fine. She’s more than happy to tag out if we need to. Her deadlines are really loose right now what with the whole ‘nothing going on in Arlington’ thing this week. She’s heartbroken for Soph and wants to help where she can.” 

“Alright.” 

“Hey,” He huffs, sounding a lot like his dad. “I’ll let you go. I’ll text when I’m outside.” 

“Okay. Thanks, bud.” 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Anytime.” 

+++

Sophia’s sleeping when Alice and Hank come to visit later in the evening. Aaron went home a couple hours after Jack, planning to tag out with you later so you could get some sleep in your own bed before work tomorrow. 

Alice immediately embraces you, all but falling into your lap as you hold her. She’s shaking.

“Is she okay?” 

You push her back, smoothing some wayward edges at her hairline. “She will be.” 

Alice’s dark eyes fill with tears, and you brush them off her cheeks as they fall. 

“She’ll need your help, though. It’s gonna be a long time before we figure out what’s permanent and what’s not.” 

Alice nods and retreats, sitting in the plastic chair by Soph’s side, folding her arms on the mattress and laying her head on them. “Hey, Sofa,” she whispers, though Soph can’t hear her. 

“I haven’t heard that one in a while,” you tell her. Sofa is a nickname Derek gave Sophia when she was little. No big meaning to it, but it stuck. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed there all night. 

Hank lingers by the door. In the shadow of the room, you could easily mistake him for Derek, but that concerned pull at the corners of his eyes screams Savannah. 

Eventually, he crosses the room and sits on the little lounger beside you. 

He takes your hand and you kiss his knuckles. “I bet this isn’t how you wanted to spend your winter break, huh?” 

A little laugh leaves him. “Maybe not, but little Miss Thing over here dragged me out the door before I could get two words in edgewise.” He gestures vaguely toward Alice and you actually smile. 

“Yeah. In my experience, Morgan women don’t fuck around.” 

“You got that right,” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Savannah, fresh off her shift and still in her white coat and scrubs. She scours over Sophia’s charts and checks on her before sitting on your other side. 

“Do you want the bad news or the good-but-also-kind-of-bad news?” She asks, almost inaudible. You glance up at Soph but Savannah shakes her head. “She’s out - those pain meds will leave this entire visit a blur.” 

You sigh. “Fine. Hit me with the bad shit.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Savannah rests her elbows on her knees. “I’ve seen a knee injury like this exactly once before. No matter what you do, they can’t and don’t always heal right. She could need a mobility device permanently, even after she’s healed, and I can tell you now she won’t play again.” 

That’s okay. She’s okay. 

Better soccer goes than her life. 

Soccer is her life. 

You only know that Alice can hear everything when her shoulders start to shake. She doesn’t make any noise as she cries. She’s like her dad that way. Hank stands and places a hand between her shoulder blades, but says nothing. 

“Is that the worst of it?” 

Savannah nods. “Yeah.” She takes a breath. “The kinda good news is that she’ll be totally fine no matter what obstacles she may run into. She’s tough. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hotchner.”

She snorts. “Hell, I watched you bounce back from crazy life-threatening shit with a quip and a grin.” 

You raise your eyebrows and shrug. “I do what I can.” 

+++

Caroline curls into her father’s side, her double bed big enough to manage the both of them. It feels a lot like when she was little - she’d have nightmares or couldn’t fall asleep and Aaron would come and sit with her until her breath was even and slow.

“Dad?”

“Mhmm?”

“What’s Soph gonna do about college?” Caroline’s voice is small, nearly smothered in Aaron’s shirt. “She already has scouting offers and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure. We’ll all have to figure it out together, won’t we?”

+++

Aaron steps into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him. Alice, just as you predicted, snoozes next to Sophia, her head pillowed on her arms. Sophia’s upper body almost arcs around her and she managed to snag one of Alice’s hands in her adjustment. 

Those two…

Maybe he won’t escape the inevitable after all. 

Morgan-Hotchner? Hotchner-Morgan? 

He really only ever prepared to lose his name with Caroline. Soph always seemed far too… herself to take on a new one. 

We’ll see.

You’re asleep in the pull-out chair, your brow drawn and arms crossed over your chest. He approaches you as quietly as he can, putting his go bag down and sitting beside you. 

Much to his chagrin, you startle awake. 

“Sorry,” he says in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” Talking through your yawn, you add, “Just had a weird dream is all.” 

Aaron pulls you close and you relent, tucking into his side with a hand pressed to his chest. 

“Did Savannah come by?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“What did she say?” 

You sniff a little, more from the antiseptic smell than any emotional response - that will come later. “Soph won’t be able to play again unless fuckin’ divine intervention or some shit comes along and fixes her knee from scratch, but she’ll be able to move around just fine with a cane or brace or something after a while.” 

Aaron can only imagine it now - fits and righteous anger about getting around the house, watching games from the bench - the list could go on forever. “She’ll hate that.” 

You hum in agreement. “Just another parenting challenge. Already have the rest of the gamut covered neurodevelopmentally, so we were bound to get a physical challenge at some point.” 

“Never more than we can handle.” 

Shaking your head, you note, “This one just might do us in.” 

+++

“I swear to God, if I see you in the office at all this week I’m gonna smash your kneecaps in.” Emily pauses. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You laugh a little and Soph sits up, her brow asking a question. 

You answer, pulling the phone away from your mouth. “Your Aunt Emily told me she’d smash my kneecaps if she saw me at the federal building this week.” 

Soph snorts. “Nice. We could match.” 

You reach over and tweak her nose. “We already match.” 

“Hey.” Emily grabs your attention again and you put your cell back to your ear. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to be here. Stay home for Soph right now and I’ll sign off on it and turn everything in for you.” 

You roll your eyes. “I can’t believe you turned into Rossi, Miss I’m Past Retirement Age But Twisted the Bureaus Arm to Let Me Work Myself to Death.”

She laughs and hangs up, leaving you and Sophia alone again in the hospital room. She tucks back into her Jello, taking bites that are way too big. 

“How are you feeling, bug?” You brush her cheekbone with your thumb and she shrugs. 

“Can you hand me my headband?” 

You reach over and dig around in her back until you find the wide swatch of colorful fabric. She takes it from you and shoves it over her head, pushing her hair back with practiced ease. 

She’s just like her dad. 

What? Loyal? 

Yeah. But also chronically avoidant. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

She huffs, playing with her fingers. “I’m fine. I think.” Her breath is shaky. “I can’t really tell with all the meds I’m on, but it feels… really bad.” 

When she looks over at you again, her eyes are glassy, tearful. “I know I can’t play again, maybe not even run.” 

You reach out for her hand, but don’t say anything. 

“Momma…” She pauses, looking down at her blanket. “Momma, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I feel like I only know how to play soccer. I don’t know how - I don’t know if I want to do anything else. I’ve never thought about it before.” 

You run your thumb over her knuckles. “Soph, you can do so much. You have a great strategic mind - you think in these big, creative webs. It’s such an asset.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not profiling you, baby,” you tell her with a smile. “I just know that about you because you’re my daughter.”

Her mouth twists. “Right.” She looks down when her phone buzzes. 

“Who is it?” 

The corners of her lips tip up. “It’s Alice. She’s asking me if I want anything from the drive thru.”

You mirror her little smile. “That’s nice of her.” 

“Yeah.”

+++

“Alright so you have twenty nuggets, large fries,” Alice digs around in the bag, taking things out as she speaks. “And… a vanilla milkshake.” 

“God, I love you.” Sophia wraps her hand around Alice's head and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Alice laughs, deep from her chest. “Shit, Soph, if all I have to do to secure your love is get you crap chicken, sign me up.” 

“You could get damn close.” 

Aaron watches the girls sit beside each other in the bed, taking turns dipping their nuggets in the sauce. They’ve always been this way, exchanging barbs and affection in equal measure. Symbiotic in the extreme, one is never far from the other. 

You’re home, getting everyone else in bed and settled for the evening. Isabella drove in a night early - Jack’s headed back to D.C. apartment for a series of days-long meetings at the Pentagon regarding his latest project. 

Aaron’s excited to see her. It’s been a helluva thing to see his son married, even more surreal to know and love his son’s wife like his own daughters. 

His phone rings. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Bella.” 

Sophia looks over at the mention of her sister-in-law, and Alice looks beside herself with delight. As well as being a hit among the parents, Bella’s a winner with the kids, too. 

Some days, Caroline likes her more than she likes Jack. 

“Hey, Pops. Want to tag out?” 

“Sure. I’ll switch with you. How long do you want to be here?” 

He can almost hear her shrug. “Eh. I’ll spend the night. My column isn’t due until the end of the week and I’ve got it covered. Don’t need to work, don’t really need to sleep. Win-win.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

She hangs up before Aaron can respond, so he just pockets his phone and takes the loss. Sophia, after taking a sip of her milkshake, asks. “Is Bella here all night?” 

“Yeah, bug. She’ll be here.” 

Soph and Alice share a look. 

+++

“Well, Bella has more patience than I do,” Aaron says, dropping his go bag at the bedroom door. “She’s stuck with H&M for the rest of the night at the hospital.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad the girls have company, and fun company, at that.” 

“Fair enough.” 

The two of you quiet for a moment, and you tuck further under his arm, placing your hand over his heart. 

“Aaron?” 

His hand traces up and down your back, slow and steady. “Yeah?” 

“What can we do for her? She sounded so… defeated today.” 

And it’s true. You’ve never seen Soph like that, even at her lowest. If you were honest, it scared you a little. 

“We can be her parents. That’s all. And she’ll figure something out. If she needs to take a gap year, she’ll manage. She and Alice can search for programs together.” He sighs before he continues, leaning back to look at you. 

“All we can do is ask her what she needs and support her as best we can.” 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower​ @hotchslatte​ @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[deliciousangelfestival]

xWicked Romance : Chapter 4 : He’s cute.

Character : Mob!Steve Rogers x Retired Assassin Female Reader

Summary : Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her. 

Warning : No smuts, since I don’t know how to write it. Peace y’all.

Steve woke up because he felt someone softly brushing his hair. He opened his eyes, finding her hand stopped. Both of them are lying on his bed.

Her head still laying on his arm, he move her body closer to feel her warmth. He bury his head into the crook of her neck and mumbled "Don't stop."

“That’s a nice way to wake me up.” His voice sounded deeper and raspy. 

(Y/N) chuckled softly when she heard his voice. “You’re too excited last night.”

She suddenly turned her body and jumped off the bed. 

“Where are you going?” Steve was surprised that she's easily escape from his arms.

“Stay there; I’ll be back.”

When she left the room, Steve noticed she was wearing his shirt and boxer. 

The smell of bacon and pancakes made him look at his door. She came in, bringing a tray filled with food, a glass of water, egg, bacon, pancake, and coffee. It's been a while since he had breakfast in his own house. 

Steve is confused if today is his birthday or not? He never got pampered like this. Usually, it was him the one who did this kind of thing. Not the other way around. 

He sat up, the blanket only covering his waist this time. (Y/N) gently put the food tray on his lap. She saw Steve had a confused expression on his face.

“You need a big breakfast to start your day.” (Y/N) said.

“How did you manage to do all of this?” Steve asked after he finished drinking water. 

“Because I woke up too early. I made breakfast for both of us.” (Y/N) said, walking in with another tray of foods. She sat beside him and kissed his side lips. “You completely tired me out last night.”

Steve gave a loud laugh; he never could imagine a girl like (Y/N) not just brave but also good at cooking. He didn’t notice she was able to slip out from his arm. Because of his habit he got from the military, Steve could get awake so easily even with a small voice and movement.

Both of them enjoy their breakfast together, a few dirty jokes there but not much since it’s still early in the morning. After that, they have another hot session in the bathroom. (snu snu time.)

The time they spent together (Y/N) told Steve he is free to ask anything from her. She’s pretty sure if she tells him everything about how she grows up, he wouldn’t believe any word that came out of her mouth. 

Steve doesn’t mind it; he prefers her life to be mysterious. She never failed to give him a surprise. He likes her spontaneity. Perhaps some day she could give him a heart attack. 

While they put on their clothes (Y/N) phone vibrates with a pop message from Peter saying he’s downstairs to pick her up. 

“Do you have to go?” 

Steve felt the time was not enough when she told him that she needed to go. 

“Come on, just stay a bit more,” Steve asked her with a pleading tone. He holds her wrist when she is ready to go out. (Y/N) saw his puppy eyes couldn’t help blurting out, “So cute.” 

Steve get worried; no one would dare to call him the mafia boss cute. At the moment, he questioned his masculinity. In which part she saw him cute. 

“I have too.” Her finger caressed his cheeks and touched his beard. “Let’s have dinner tonight. Okay?”

Steve answered, “Alright, see you tonight.” Before he released her, he gave a surprise kiss on her lips. 

With hazy eyes, he pulls away while (Y/N) is still shocked with the kissed “Wow.”

Steve chuckled and winked at her. “That’s a sneak peek for tonight.”

(Y/N) smiled, she doesn’t want to light a fire from Steve. She closed the door and left the house. 

When she walked out, (Y/N) saw two older couples get out of a car. She knew who it was. They are Steve’s mother, Sarah Rogers, and the former mafia boss Joseph Rogers. 

She looks at them as a couple; they look lovely together. But (Y/N) noticed when Sarah looked at her, she became a scary mother in law like on the TV. 

Sarah walk like a lady and stop infront of her. She told (Y/N), “Listen carefully. Regardless of what happens between you two. I can’t accept you. I know you are different from any other woman. Even if you can stop Brock with just one bullet, I’m not going to let some girl use my son again.” 

After she said her words, Sarah turned and left (Y/N) alone while Joseph finally followed her. 

Sarah walks too fast; she turns and talks to her husband, “Is she still looking?”

Joseph glanced through his shoulder “Yeah, and she’s waving at us.”

Sarah was bewildered. “What kind of woman Steve got into this time?” She thought the woman would get angry, but it turned out she’s still there and waved at them. 

“First, it’s a C.I.A then a journalist. Now what?” Sarah sighed. 

Joseph also feels the same way as his wife. Their son picks a girl that always reveals their business. It’s pretty funny seeing his wife getting so worked up. 

“Alright, don’t get mad. Let’s meet our son.” Joseph hugged his wife's shoulder. 

When the bell rang, Steve hoped it's (Y/N) the one who stands in front of his door. He didn’t even check the monitor; he quickly opened the door. 

"You're back…." Steve didn’t even finish his speech. His smile dropped when he saw his parents.

"Stevie." Sarah hugs him. 

"Mom? Dad? What are you- AHHH!!!” 

Steve hissed when his mother pinched his chest. He looked at his father with a look of ‘What’s all that about?’

Joseph answered, “We met her when we arrived.”

Steve finally understands why his mother became moody this morning. 

“I can see why you like her. She seems different.” Joseph whispered at his son while Steve nodded all the time. 

Sarah suddenly jumped in. “Are you sure she’s good for you? What’s her job? Please don’t tell me she’s a lawyer or a judge?”

Steve patted her back to calm her down. “Mom, calm down; I’m not dating from that side this time. She’s an analyst in automotive for a private company.”

“Ooh, that explains the nice car,” Joseph murmured. Sarah glared at her husband. 

“I hope you don’t get a heartbreak this time.” Sarah felt pity towards her son, Steve could be scary when he’s mad, but when he’s sad, he looks like a golden retriever puppy. 

He understands why his mother asked him this cause she saw how broken he was when his relationship ended with Peggy. 

####

From day one, they have obstacles because of their jobs. Peggy stands to abide by the law while he already saw how corrupt and hypocritical the government is. He saw his comrade die for nothing. 

His world almost crumbled when he found out that Peggy was ready to put his family into jail. And the most hurtful thing is that she did that to get a promotion. 

'What am I to you?' He asked her this question. She was unable to give him the answer.  

####

But behind the thunder, there’s a rainbow; his mother, Sarah, she used to not give a damn about what Steve and her husband did in mobster stuff. When she found out her son got used, she went livid. 

She told her son to make them regret treating him like that. Sarah knows her son is a mobster, his life is always related to dark stuff, but he always makes sure to treat his own woman like a queen. 

And right now, he knew he moved too fast with (Y/N), but he felt like she shares the same value with him. 

.

.

.

In the afternoon, Steve is in the car with Sam and Bucky. They’re heading to the hospital right now. 

Steve was looking at the window; he could see his reflection. He suddenly remembered what (Y/N) said in the morning, “Guys.”

Bucky and Sam ‘Hmmm’ at the same time.

“Do I look cute?”

Sam stops the car abruptly. Suddenly everything became silent. While Bucky cursed, “What the f#%* Steve?”

“Alright, the answer is pretty clear.” Steve scoffed, he doesn���t want to continue; their reaction is enough for him. 

Sam and Bucky are confused because their friend just asks them nonsense questions. 

“Well, we have arrived,” Sam said; he looked at Bucky. “You follow him; I will stay here. Make sure he doesn't get plastic surgery.”

Steve rolled his eyes and got out of the car with Bucky. 

“Is she the one who said you’re cute?”

Steve nodded.

“Hmm, you completely whipped. Well Steve, I completely understand,” Bucky tells him they’re in the same position since he’s with Natasha. 

Both of them stopped at the V.I.P patient room. They saw two bodyguards standing in front of the door. The bodyguard steps away when Steve approaches them. One of the bodyguards opened the door for him. 

Steve turns to Bucky. “Wait here.”

“Sure.”

Steve walked into the room; he thought Brock still fainted. It turns out he’s awake and eating. 

Brock was wearing a neck brace, his two legs wrapped in a cast, his left arm also wrapped in a cast, and his elbow fractured. 

Brock lifted his head when he saw Steve. He clicked his tongue. 

“Your girlfriend almost killed me.”’

“Huh?” Steve responded. 

Steve didn’t know that (Y/N) visited Brock before him. 

####

What happened 4 hours ago 

It was Peter who picked up (Y/N) at Steve’s place with her car.

She gets into the car and puts on her seatbelt. “Let’s go back to my apartment first; I need to change my clothes. I have to meet someone later.”

“Who?”

“A friend, he got into an accident last night.”

“Hmm.”

When they arrived at her place, Peter asked, “Let me guess your sick friend is Brock?”

“Yes.”

Peter shook his head. “Poor guy.”

.

.

At the hospital.

Brock is feeling drowsy because of the painkiller. Because of the car crash, his neck got the impact. 

He saw a shadow figure in front of him, “You!!!”

“Good afternoon Rumlow.”

“Hmph!!!” Brock wants to strangle her; he remembered her from last night. 

(Y/N) walked closer to his infusion bottle; she took out something from her pocket. 

“Wha--”

“You see, Rumlow, I kinda like Steve, but the Tom & Jerry fight between you and him has to stop. I don’t want you to appear and ruined the romantic moment like last night.”

Brock finally could see what she’s holding in her hand. (Y/N) notices he is looking at the syringe that she has.

“What inside this syringe could put you to sleep forever. You know what I’m capable of, right?”

Brock cursed, “#$%^*!!!”

(Y/N) nodded. “Correct, so if you still want to leave, just stay 1 million km from us, okay?”

Brock defeatedly answered, “Okay.”

“Great, go back to rest.” She opens the cap of the syringe and injects it into his infusion bottle.

“Bi*$#!!”

“Relax, it’s just another painkiller for you.” After she said that, Brock eventually fell asleep. 

When he woke up, his bodyguard gave him a food container with a small note 'I'm sorry, she’s pretty scary.'

####

Back to the present

“Really?” Steve was astounded.

“Your new girl is crazy.” Brock clicked his tongue. He can’t imagine having a girlfriend like (Y/N).

In Steve’s mind, her threat towards Brock is nothing. His heart fluttered when he knew what she did for him. Never in his life, a woman would threaten his rival for him. He never get spoiled like this. 

Steve chuckled; he got up from the chair and mumbled on the way out of the hospital ward, remembering what (Y/N) had done for him “My cute devil.”

He finds it cute, though; he never had a brave enough girlfriend to threaten his rival. He used to be the one who protects his girl. 

Steve wants to meet her again; lucky for him, she texts him first and gives her location. 

.

.

.

Steve arrived at the high-end restaurant that, even for him, it’s difficult to book a table. She won’t stop giving him a surprise. He saw her wearing a dress that fitted her figure. She looked beautiful and confident.  

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) raised her face gently, the corner of her lips moving upward when she saw him. 

Steve felt like he could drown in it. Both of them had dinner together. While they’re eating, he needs to say something important to her. They were having wine when he grasps her hand. It made her look at him. 

He has to say it to give her the chance to walk away “(Y/N); I like you. I feel a connection between us. But being with me means sometimes you will be facing unexpected things. I know you are strong, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

She tilted her head a little and looked at Steve in front of her. She pinched his chin lightly. “Steve, I don’t care how many enemies you have.”

“I will kill them one by one.” 

She wasn’t saying a flirty line towards him instead of a deadly one. Everyone said she’s scary, but for him, she’s a great blessing in his life. 

“You know that I’m capable. I don’t mind working as your partner. Not just as your girlfriend.”

‘Thump!’ Steve's heart fluttered when he heard that word.

“Girlfriend?” 

“You don’t want to?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows. 

Steve quickly answered, “Please be my girlfriend.” It would be crazy to decline it; he wants to show the world that she belongs to him. He’s afraid if he’s too late, she will slip away from his finger. To put it more plainly, Steve may not have met another woman like (Y/N). 

A/N: Thank you for the likes and reblogged my post. 

To my followers and people who liked my post, I hope you don’t mind if I tag your name:

Tag:

@samwinter09

@colorfulpeachpurseghost

@marce170018

@stepheewdgirlie

@juliealma1

@valhalla-kristin

@fivebefore21

@iloveshawnieboi

@sarahbellesaurus

@kesyakesh

@xkarmenvlx

@jemimah-b99

[drshojo]

The World, My Childhood And My Hero Academia: Vigilantes

Hello friends!  

Its Dr. Shojo coming at you with a post that will be divided into three parts!

Part One: The world as we know it! 

The world has changed a lot since we last connected. For starters, TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN HAS NOT ONLY A PHYSICAL RELEASE BUT A GORGEOUS ANIME! And not only that, but MY NEXT LIFE AS A VILLAINESS: ALL ROUTES LEAD TO DOOM! IS GETTING AN ANIME AS WELL! The last time I wrote about Katerina there wasn’t even an official English translation of that long-ass light-novel-title. And now?

A WHOLE ANIME. A BISEXUAL HAREM AWAITS! I am JAZZED!

Do you think it’s my fault? No matter, I’ll take all the credit. All the manga I talk about are getting anime adaptations. I’LL DO MY DUTY AND TALK ABOUT SOME MORE!

But first. Let us address the Covid-19 shaped elephant in the room

I deeply regret that it took a whole-ass pandemic to get me back to writing. In my defense, I bought an iPad and started drawing like 900 kokichi oumas. I was really busy with that. And then I started reading fanfiction. Then that got me thinking about how fanfiction such an interesting look into how people interpret fandom, use it for wish fulfillment and escapism, and good god is everyone OK cause that bulimia fan fic was super detailed....and I am officially on a tangent. Off track. Ahem.

We are all staying inside a whole lot more which means y’all probably need some reading material and Dr. Shojo has your back! Go read “Horimiya”! It’s amazing! Ahhhh, my work here is done! I'm serious, if you’re here for a Shojo rec, that’s it! There's also like 8 million more Otome Isekais to check out now. It’s like they’re multiplying like rabbits..............

As a Doctor, I must advise you to stay inside and read some manga and practice social distancing. Embrace your inner hikikomori. 

Allright? All good? Okay now one final disclaimer:

This post is going to be talking about something a little different than usual and I want to start by giving you some context about who Dr. Shojo is in real life. 

Part Two: Dr. Shojo Exposed 

You see, when I was little I was obsessed with Japanese media. This doesn't surprise you at all I can tell. Probably because I walk around calling myself Dr. Shojo and shout about manga that you should read.

Anyways, the reason why I was obsessed wasn’t because of the big eyes or the spikey hair or the interesting new culture. It was because it tended to have more character development and overarching plotlines than the media I was used to in Canada. Dexter’s Lab, Magic School Bus, pretty much everything I saw on TV was episodic in nature, so imagine how much my mind was blown when I saw Naruto and Card Captor Sakura, heck, even Pokémon had the Indigo Plateau! Here were kids that were learning more and more each day and got to see enemies become friends and vice versa. They lived and grew older just like me. Except they were cooler than me. And had more interesting lives than me. I gotta tell you, I was so sad when I was 12 and Kero didn’t tell me I had latent magical powers. But there was magic in my life and it was the magic of a complex narrative story. And not only that, it had a sense of movement and had cool costumes. I was hooked immediately.

Also, fun fact, at that age I happened to be a complete and utter tomboy! I loved pretending to fight my friends in the playground and was really worried that puberty would ruin my life because being a girl sounded so CUMBERSOME.

Which leads me up to my confession. Before I became Dr. Shojo, I was in fact......Dr. Shonen.

Bleach? Naruto? One Piece? I've read every single chapter there is.  

Hundreds of hours of watching fight sequences. Another fun fact, I only got into shojo because my aunt bought me volume 7 and 8 of Fruits Basket thinking “all mangas like the same right? Kids love comics?” It’s a tribute to how episodic western media was back then that she thought buying volume SEVEN and EIGHT was a REASONABLE PLACE TO START READING.

Now you might also say, Hey! Dr Shojo! Cardcaptors was a shojo! And you are right! but back then the anime was marketed to boys over here in the west and they actualy like, edited out episodes that they thought wouldn't interest boys?! Second fun fact, Once when I was in Grade 3 I was told I was not allowed to join a club under the stairs cause I was a girl and it was BOYS ONLY. The point of the club? To talk about how great Cardcaptors was! I Kid you not!

So anyways, your pall Dr. Shojo loves Shonen manga to this day!

The only reason I made this Dr. Shojo blog specifically about shojo is because, being a tomboy with no female friends, reading shojo manga was the first time I really thought about what it meant to be a girl and fall in love. And y i k e s. Shojo manga, like most media, fails miserably most of the time in displaying real world relationships. Or at least, it  doesn't prepare you for how disappointing everything can be. When I had my first kiss, I was thinking about how it didn’t feel at all like how I felt reading Zen and Shirayukis kiss in Akagame No Shirayuki Hime. Those were formative years, and shojo was one of the only places I saw romance being talked about for younger audiences. I liked reading romances where no one had any sexual experiences and were figuring out what love meant to them. But let’s shelve this topic for now.

The point is that gender roles are dumb and if you have an open mind there's a world of stories out there for you. Take this time inside to read something you wouldn’t normally. Critically think about the ways that the worlds you see in stories and how you experience the world differ. What are the messages a story is trying to tell you? And why do you like the stories you do? Reflect on how the stories you tell yourself color your view of the world. Even mindless entertainment leaves an impression on us. Anyways.

Whilst you're doing that, I'm going to absolutely lose my hecking mind over the Shonen Jump series MY HERO ACADEMIA: Vigilantes!

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Part Three: I downloaded the one month free trial of the Shonen Jump app and made you read all that, so I can tell you that today Dr. Shojo is going to rant about a spin-off of a shonen manga

THAT’S RIGHT, OF COURSE I READ HERO ACA AND YES I DID PICK UP THE SPIN OFF SERIES. SHONEN JUMP LETS YOU READ ALL THE NEW CHAPTERS FOR FREE ON THEIR APP. KIDS, IF YOU LIKE SHONEN AND YOU’RE PIRATING ON A SCANLATION SITE STILL GET OUT BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE THOSE WEIRD PLASTIC SURGERY AND DENTISTRY ADDS ANY MORE.

SHONEN IS HERE AND ITS LEGAL AND ITS FREE FOR YOU. GET OFF MANGA FOX OR MANGA ROCK OR WHATEVER THE KIDS ARE USING THESE DAYS.

OK, so by this point in the article you have learned two very important things about me: 1) I love Shonen manga and 2) I read a lot of fanfiction.

Specifically, I read an absolutely biblical amount of My Hero Academia fan fiction and let me tell you, A solid chunk of it is vigilante/ Deadpool / criminal with a heart of gold themed.

So when I saw Hero Aca had a spin off, and it was about vigilantes, I was NOT SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ao3 sure is powerful.

Now, if you will permit me a tangent in a post full of tangents—HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE TOO MANY VIGILANTE AUS. I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF EM. IT’S THE ISEKAI PROBLEM ALL OVER AGAIN. I GET AN EMAIL A FIC HAS UPDATED AND I’M LIKE IS THIS THE FIC WHERE DEKU HAS AN ABUSIVE MOM OR THE ONE WHERE HE HAS SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER OR THE ONE WHERE HE’S VIGILANTES WITH HITOSHI. OH WAIT, nvm, it’s the one where deku has a healing quirk.

OH WAIT WHICH OF THE 6 DEKU WITH HEALING QUIRK VIGILATE AU FICS IS THIS ONE?! ARGH WHY DIDN’T I WRITE A DESCRIPTION IN THE BOOKMARK FOR THIS!

My gripes aside, there's a reason why there's such an abundance of vigilante story telling—

Deadpool made like an absolute buttload of money and people love sass and memes.

People have a desire for a story in which they see themselves. Or, how they think of themselves.They like a story about someone who maybe came from nothing. Someone who has less money, maybe someone who is unlucky and had some bad breaks. Someone who never learned they had magic, never got their Hogwarts letter, never saw Kero, someone who never got that God-level quirk from All Might. And if your on Ao3 They want someone who also has seen a lot of memes and kind of wants taco bell and is also questioning their sexuality a bit?

Enter our new hero VIGILANTE DEKU.  

But the cannon can't do this, cause hey, Deku is the chosen one. Albeit, chosen by All Might, He’s got his own thing to do. But how can we still cash in on a vigilante story?

And thus enter our New-New hero KOICHI HAIMAWARI—code name Nice Guy and then later The Crawler. True to his relatable roots. He’s just a dude in an hoodie who can go about as fast as a bike.

First off, I love Koichi. He wants to be a hero and fight crime, but most of the time he has to run away because at the end of the day he's just a dude.

He’s cute but not wildly good-looking, A bit of a nerd but not like an extreme okaku. He’s got a part time job and hates violence.

And this is where Koichi really shines—in every day stuff. He helps out wherever he can. Often, that just means listening to people complain and maybe helping his friends out with whatever they’re going through. He’s the kind of guy who smiles, not because he's especially brave, but because he just takes things one at a time and doesn't sweat the past. I think it’s really telling that he missed getting into hero high-school because he skipped the entrance exam to help someone. He’s the kind of person who lets us experience the superpower of human decency and empathy. And you know what? That’s something the world need desperately.  

This theme of human decency is really the driving force of Vigilantes—it’s a manga about how the laws are there for a reason but sometimes they unfairly impact the poor and vulnerable. It's about how a lot of criminals are just people who fell into bad social circles or on bad times. People have the capacity for cruelty and violence but that’s never all they are.  

Now, speaking of crime, the entirety of Hero Aca falls into some murky water when it comes to its evil doers. Much of the fandom has a huuuuuge problem with how much the franchise is willing to sweep under the rug in the name of redeeming their baddies. RE: people getting mad about forgiving Endeavor’s child abuse, or Bakugo’s suicide baiting. Or Mineta’s blatant sexual harassment.

But this theme is in Vigilantes even more than it ever was in the main series. To start off with, there’s this guy who tries to rape Pop Step early on, and the later he later winds up befriending everybody. It becomes a running gag that each new villain winds up befriending the other villain guys and then they all open a cat café together.

Using jobs as a way to lift people out of lives of crime is great and all but in the story there is no nuance or consequences for past wrong and well.....it feels very weird.  It's like Vigilantes plays at having an opinion about moral ambiguity and the complexity of human existence and then just.......lets everyone get along because who has time to get into all that. Make of that what you will but it sits weird for me personally.

Anyway, let's move on and talk about POP STEP our main girl!

I love pop stars and I love vigilantes and a guerrilla performer is defiantly a character I could get behind. And I think they do a good job with Pop. She is actually kind of shy, but has this secret edgy persona she puts on when she performs. She is every girl on tumbler in the early 2000s. I also looooove that they make her not that great a singer. SHE’S GOT PASSION AND CHARISMA and maybe not born talent but like why should that stop you! Talent can be earned through practice and this is a great lesson to show people.

Unfortunately, Pop is also a great example of everything wrong with romance in Shonen.

It’s established early on that Pop loves Koichi because she is the girl he rescued all those years ago and yada yada yikes we’ve heard this one before. Many times before.

Sure, it's fine that they’ve met before, but gosh am I sick of damsels in distress. It's like she can't love him just because she respects what a great guy he is in her life and in the community at large, no no, she just needs to be rescued on top of that. And LOLOLOL isn't it funny he never noticed she was a girl because she was a child with short hair?! Once he realizes she has boobs now they will for sure fall in love! That’s how love works!

She's just with him all the time—nothing romantic ever happens she just gets a little tsundere.

I am never ever going to believe Koichi likes Pop because he spends like sooooo much time with her and they never have like, a moment. The first time he considers her is when Makoto is like, ‘hey I would love to get together with you, but have you thought about if you are crushing on Pop’. (Also this entire plot point is suspect—she's arbitrarily falling for Koichi cause he.......is the protagonist?)  

Say what you will about shojo, they give you the emotional conversations, the moments where you think.....ahhh I can see why she is falling for him. They give you context! Shonen likes to just say HERE’S A GIRL YOUR AGE. YOU CAN DATE LATER WHEN THE ADVENTURE IS DONE.

Just when they might get together, Pop suddenly turns evilllllll. The evilllll beeeees made her eeeevilllll (and more sexy).

*Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

Because why on earth would they get together if Koichi didn’t get to rescue Pop one more time?

I’m tired. These troupes are tired. I’m sure you are too. HOWEVER! If your still with me, Let’s move into why I'm really writing this post. Let’s get to the part that got me screaming to my friends, who by the way, don’t even care bout Hero Aca….but listened anyways. May you all find nakama like these my friends.

Anyways,

HOLY FUCK ERASERHEAD’S ENTIRE BACK STORY IS IN THIS AROUND CHAPTER 60 AND IT IS WONDERFUL AND ABSOLUTLY HEARTBREAKING AND IS ONE OF THE BEST CHARACTER BACKSTORIES I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IS THE REASON WHY THIS SERIES IS A MUST-READ FOR MAIN SERIES FANS.

AND BY ALMIGHT.  

WHY. IS. IT HERE.  

I present to you my late night text messages to my friends

ALSO, AIZAWAS TEACHER IS PRINCE?!?!?!

AHEM, so as you can see, I kinda lost my shit.

And now, I would like to formally defend my claim that DESPITE HOW AMAZING IT WAS, ERASERHEAD’S BACKSTORY HAD NO BUISSNESS BEING IN THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF MANGA.

Eraserhead, aka Aizawa Shouta, is a side character who is working with the police on some crime stuff. He is not a main cast member in this spin off. He’s a guest character that fans of the main series will be like OH COOL. GRUMPY CAT MAN LIKES CATS ON HIS OFF HOURS TOO. LOVE THAT FOR HIM.

So, my imagine my absolute surprise when Aizawa runs into Koichi and the following happens:

It starts to rain, so, like in any good manga, this means some great FORCED BONDING TIME

Except no. It doesn't because rather than start talking, Aizawa JUST STARTS REMEMBERING—ABSOLUTLY SILENTLY TO HIS OWN PRIVETE SELF—HIS ENTIRE TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

AND THIS GOES ON FOR CHAPTERS.

THIS GOES ON LONGER THEN ARC ONE IT FEELS LIKE.

I LOVE IT, BUT KOICHI IS ABOUT TO JOIN ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA IN THE DUBIOUS CATEGORY OF “PROTAGONISTS THE SERIES FORGOT ABOUT IN LIEU OF COOLER SIDE CHARACTERS”.

AND LO IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE REST OF THE PLOT, CHARACTERS, OR STORY

What the ever-loving-just WHY?

WHY?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

SURE, IT’S A COOL TIE-IN.

YES, OF COURSE I LOVED IT. I SHIP ERASER MIC, I DREW THIS FOR HECK’S SAKE:

AND YET I AM ANGRY.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE MY FRIDAY WAS RUINED BECAUSE VIGILATES SUCKER PUNCHED ME WITH AN AMAZING STORY THAT REALLY WASN’T PLOT RELEVANT AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE.  

IS THIS WHY THEY TOOK LIKE NEXT-TO-NO CARE WITH POPS ARC?!?

I mean its ongoing, so it’s too early to say but—

In conclusion—

Excuse me one more,

AIZAWA WAS TAUGHT BY PRINCE!?!??!?!?!?!? PURPLE RAIN PRINCE!?!??!?!?!? WHAT!??!?!?!

It’s so ABSURD that I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I HAD TO WRITE PARAGRAPHS TO JUSTIFY YELLING ABOUT THIS ONE THING. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE—

Ahem,

Anyways, I hope you liked this weird rant/personal-story/random-diatribe in three parts.

If you’re reading this, thank you, stay safe, and I’ll be back with more shojo manga next time.  

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

(aka Dr. Shonen)

[monaisme]

Day 17: field surgery

Day 17: field surgery

“I can’t believe that Mr. Harrington thinks this can make up for the whole MOMA thing.” Flash whined. “Seriously, guys? Camping?!” He spit out the word with a disdain Peter hadn’t heard from Flash since before The Blip, and that had been when he was talking about Peter.

Huh. Maybe things were finally starting to normalize?

“You didn’t have to come, you know that, right?” MJ replied to his complaint. “Seriously, Flash. It’s been five years. Can you maybe stop being so—“

“Hey! Look, everyone,” Mister Harrington interrupted before they could find out what MJ was going to say. “I know we’ve all had an interesting stretch with everything that’s happened over the last while, but this is an opportunity for us to all get to know each other outside of the chaos and distraction of the world...”

Mr. Harrington continued to drone on, but Peter was distracted by what he’d said. It went without saying that the world was definitely a place of chaos—Homeless rates were up all over the globe, domestic violence was on the increase, and suicide rate were... well.  After the fourth stumbled upon attempt, Peter had taken a couple of training sessions with a Sam to better be able to deal with all of the sadness out there. And there was so much sadness.

Yeah, Peter really needed to be back in the city. This was frivolous! He should have put his foot down—

But Ned wanted him to go.

May wanted him to go.

And then Mr. Stark had insisted that he go. “C’mon, Roo,” he’d urged. “You deserve a break. It’s hasn’t been that long and already we can all see you’re over-stressed. With the Junior Avenger training and helping with Morgan and then my physio plus working on my prosthetic for when my arm heals... and then school, homework and decathlon ON TOP of Spider-Manning!? Go on the damned trip Peter.”

Peter had still been hesitant and then Mr. Stark tossed in the whole, “Hey! It’s a Friday morning to Monday night. Only four sleeps, kiddo. If nothing else, this can be a practice trip for when you do Europe in a few months, right?”

’Cuz, yeah. Peter was worried about leaving behind all of the things he’d already left behind for five years...

“Buddy, it’s just a little break. A chance to take a deep breath, enjoy time with your friends... rest. It’ll all be waiting for you when you get back. I promise.”

So he went, against his better judgement, and now, here he was—in a van with his best friend, plus MJ, Flash and a mix of old and new faces, like Brad. Ugh. Mr. Stark was going to owe him big time for this.

He tuned back into the present, “... new members combining with old! Or old combining with old new? Or...” Mr. Harrington sighed and gave up that line of thinking. “Let’s look at it this way. The world is different. Let’s all find our place as team together—here.”

So Peter looked around to see exactly where ‘here’ was, which coincidentally coincided with Mr. Harrington pulling over onto a small patch of gravel and a small sign reading ‘Seneca Lake Survival Camp.’

“Alright, group! Here we are! Right on schedule!” Their teacher called out brightly, “Our guide will be meeting up with us shortly, so let’s unload our gear.“

It took only a few minutes for them to empty the vehicle of their own bags plus the food and gear they’d be bringing in. It took maybe a minute more for the drama to start.

“Um, guys? Did anyone else know there wouldn’t be any cell service out here?!” Flash panicked.

A chorus of ‘What?!” and one ‘We’re DOOMED!’ came from the group.

Mr. Harrington had it all in hand. “Settle down, everyone!” He gestured for them to calm. “First, if you read the permission slips, it mentioned that you were to leave all electronics at home.” Mr. Harrington made his way to his own bag and, with a flourish, pulled out a large zippered plastic bag. “So thanks for reminding me about that, Flash. Alrighty then, into the bag, folks.” The groans were audible as the phones were turned off and collected. “Second,” he called out as he zipped up the bundle of phones, “This is a “wilderness excursion,”” Yes, he’d air quoted. “You’re all smart people here! We cannot have wilderness if we are bringing the noise with us!”

More groans came from the small group, and then Betty gasped. “What happens if someone gets hurt while we’re in there?” She clutched at her chest and gestured to the woods. “We’d be trapped until the guide comes back to find us—unless we’re all dead!”

It was funny to see Ned rolling his eyes at Betty, especially since he’d been mooning over her for the last couple of weeks, but Peter couldn’t blame him as he’d done the same.

Mr. Harrington, however, had a solution to her concern. “Calm down, Ms. Brant, I promise we’re going to be absolutely fine. I have experience with the great outdoors from back when I went to university in Virginia, and the guide will be providing us with a sat phone for emergencies. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

That had the two friends sharing another eye roll—and Peter worrying that their entire weekend had just been jinxed with his declaration.

Flash had another thought and raised his hand, “Sir, I have an emergency.”

Mr. Harrington shut him down right away, “Flash, not having internet or wifi does not count as an emergency.”

Flash lowered his hand and scowled.

Sometimes Mr. Harrington could be just a little bit of a badass.

“Now I’m going to keep the phones with the van so that nothing happens to them at the site... and no, the van is not being parked at the side of the road for the duration of our getaway. The company will be driving the van to a garage for safekeeping, and then will drive it back at time of collection, so they’ll be nice and safe, okay?”

They were all just processing what an actual electronics free weekend would mean, so Mr. Harrington headed over to the van.

A rusty old pick-up truck pulled up behind them just as Mr. Harrington had finished storing the cell phone stash in the glove compartment. A middle aged man wearing red plaid, well worn jeans, and hiking boots jumped out the passenger side of the vehicle, and with an unnatural excitement, he introduced himself. “Greetings, y’all! I’m Cody...”

Peter looked down at his Midtown Aca-Dec hoodie, brand new jeans and the yellow converse Mr. Stark had insisted on buying him. He exhaled slow and tried to listen.

This was going to be a very long weekend...

* * * * * *

Peter would be the first person to admit that he was wrong because, in this case, he was.

The hike out had been ridiculously interesting. They’d examined tracks and foliage and all sorts of cool, outdoorsy stuff. Cody had even explained what to do in the event you needed to, well... #2 in the woods. The jokes afterwards had been hilarious—and they could absolutely joke about it because the campsite proper had an actual outhouse. Yeah, it wasn’t a bathroom with running water, but a seat is a seat when you need to have a private moment.

Setting up camp was even uncomplicated.

Cody had lingered after making a production of handing over the sat phone with instructions on how to use it so they had expert advice, though Mr. Harrington hadn’t been joking when he said he had some experience with camping.

By the time Cody had left to head back to the road, the tents were set up, the food was secured in a safe place, and a water/wash station was ready to go.

The fire took a little coaxing, but that was more the fault of the rain the area had been getting over the last few days—but it eventually caught, so they were good. The ghost stories told around said fire, however, were the best.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ned interrupted the story Mr. Harrington was sharing. “You’re telling me that the call was coming from inside the house, but how was that even possible back in the 80s? Like- I could see it if VoIP had been a thing back then, but it wasn’t so...”

MJ cuffed Ned in the back of the head. “Why do you overthink things, loser? Honestly. I’m afraid you’ll also believe the metal hook jammed into the trunk of the car was an actual thing!”

Ned looked confused, “It wasn’t?”

Peter took his turn to cuff Ned in the back of the head, and shook his own head in disappointment. “Dude.”

It wasn’t too long after that the group decided to hit the sack.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

* * * * * *

Mr. Stark had been right.

As a boy born of the city, Peter was pleasantly surprised by what a good night’s sleep he’d gotten there in the woods. He’d expected hours of staring up into the darkness, but the wind through the trees and the clean, fresh air worked better than any sleeping pill—if he wasn’t an enhance spider-kid who couldn’t take sleeping pills. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d waken up feeling so rested and refreshed.

The plan they’d made the night before was pretty loose. Mr. Harrington had wanted the weekend to be as unregimented as possible so on Saturday morning, they all woke up when they woke up. Breakfast would be granola bars and apples with a bagged lunch for the road so they could get going once breakfast and clean up were done. Once they were ready, they’d head for a hike to one of the tributaries leading to Seneca Lake and have a little science fun.

It seemed that after the success of yesterday, everyone was pumped and set for an adventure. In fact, the lot of them were ready and on their way out of the camp by nine o’clock—which had shocked and horrified them all. The only hitch was that it looked like the day was calling for rain, and from how the sky looked, this wasn’t going to be a drizzle either. They’d all brought jackets and other essentials in their backpacks though, and Peter was sure that Mr. Stark would get him a new pair of sneakers, so they were up for anything.

Mr. Harrington was in his element, and if it wouldn’t have sounded so weird, Peter would have told him how nice it was to see him so happy. (Everyone had heard about his wife faking her death during The Blip and all, so...) Anyways, it didn’t always work out that a field trip would be such a rousing success, but this one definitely was, so far.

The rain started about half an hour into their hike, not that it had made any sort of difference. Even Flash was being a good sport about it all.

They’d been discussing the effects of deforestation on the stability of river banks when it happened. Mr. Harrington had turned to walk backwards while pointing out a red-tailed hawk that was perched and watching them from the trees He’d stopped to mention the plumage, something about spots, and then he was... gone.

Honestly, in any other scenario, Peter would have laughed at the similarities between this and the old Looney Toons episodes he and May used to watch on Saturday morning when she hadn’t worked an overnight or double. The problem was that this wasn’t Daffy Duck, and Mr. Harrington was not going to magically pop back up and keep talking like nothing had happened.

No one moved for the split second it took to process and then they were all rushing forward.

The word rushed from his mouth before he’d even thought it, “STOP!”

Everyone froze.

“We can’t all go rushing to the edge! It’s not stable and if we do, we’ll all end up down there!” Peter’s brain was going a mile a minute. “’kay, I’m really light so I’m gonna head to the edge and see what’s up.” Then he’d pulled off his backpack and was on his belly, shimmying to the edge before anyone could argue.

He could hear Flash’s grumbling, “Why does Parker need to be the hero?”

There was more coming from behind him, but now it was time to focus. He’d gotten close enough that things could go wrong in a split second... and then he was looking over the edge.

“Shit.”

Ned was the one to call out, “What’s happening, Peter?”

“Hang on!” he called out impatiently, then looked at the fifteen foot drop that Mr. Harrington had just managed thanks to river bank instability. He wondered if Mr. Harrington would ever see the irony of it, but before he could do that, Peter needed to figure this mess out. “Mr. Harrington? Can you hear me?” he called down.

He showed no signs of response.

Double shit.

He looked back at the group. They’d all been taking turns carrying the extra backpack and he hoped... oh, how he hoped that one of them was carrying it.

“He’s unconscious, guys, and I think he’s hurt his leg. Whose turn was it to carry the phone and kit?”

No one answered.

Triple shit.

Peter’s thoughts went to his Starkwatch—the one that never came off, like ever. Mr. Stark had made sure of it when he’d gotten back from being dusted. Peter would never be untraceable again. It would be so easy to just press the emergency alert, but doing so would unleash the hellfire of a thousand suns... or the Avengers... and that would give Mr. Stark a heart attack.

“I’m gonna have to climb down there and get the sat phone, guys.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that both Brad and Flash had stepped forward, like Peter would let them go in his stead.

Ned was on top of it, though. “Nah, man, he’s got this. Just let him do his thing.”

The idea of Ned speaking up at all about something so serious brought them up short, and gave Peter the time he needed to get over the ledge and partway down the steep wall of the riverbank.

The rain that had been barely a bother was starting to come down more heavily. The rocks and roots Peter was using as hand and footholds were slippery and becoming more of a hindrance than a help. He took a look up to see if anyone was watching. Then, seeing no one, made a final leap to the muddy bank and starting assessing.

The first thing Peter did was make sure that his teacher was breathing.

He was.

Peter called up to his friends, “He’s breathing!”

They all cheered in relief.

Mr. Harrington had landed on his side, when all was said and done. His head was literal inches from the water’s edge. His head had obviously impacted, made obvious by the furiously bleeding head wound. His neck looked good, but he didn’t have x-ray vision or anything so he would only be guessing. The thing that made Peter’s stomach turn was Mr. Harrington’s leg. It was broken, plain and simple. The thin branch that had pierced through his thigh, most likely on his way down, was gonna be an issue though. Yeah, Peter had to take a few deep breaths for that one.

And then Peter pulled himself together and said a quick prayer of gratitude to whatever deity was in charge of small favours ‘cause he’d only just finished his Avengers level first aid training and if you’d asked him, he was feeling pretty confident that Mr. Harrington would be okay. He just needed to find the sat phone that must have been tucked in the torn backpack hanging loosely off of his arm.

And then Peter heard it.

One of the things Mr. Harrington had mentioned as they’d hiked along was the constant changes in the speed and depth of water levels during weather events. “You never know what’s happening further upstream, kids,” He’d said. Thanks to his enhanced senses, he knew that they were about to see an example.  

“Dammit!”

“Pete?” Ned called down, “What’s going on?”

One of the major points the Avengers kept hammering into Peter during his first aid training was that sometimes, even when everything thing tells you that they shouldn’t be moved, a victim has to be moved.

Mr. Harrington’s hair was suddenly floating in the water.

The victim HAD to be moved.

Ned and the others were now all peeking over the ledge. There was no way he could do this without...

Now he really felt nauseous.

But maybe they wouldn’t figure it out?

With a sigh of resignation and determination, he did a final assessment, and then, “Ned, we’re coming up! Get away from the ledge!” Peter yelled. “Move now!”

Ned immediately ushered his classmates back. “You’re clear, Pete!”

It was barely a moment before Mr. Harrington was slung over his shoulder and Peter was scaling the unstable riverbank. His classmates, already back from the edge, jumped back further as Peter and the body of their teacher moved effortlessly up and onto the grass.

And then the water came.

Betty and MJ were the first to approach the water’s edge, but MJ was the first to speak. “Good save, Pete.”

Peter barely gave her a smile before he was carefully positioning Mr. Harrington on the ground under a tree and out of the worst of the rain. He disentangled the bag from his body.

“Ned, c’mere!” Peter called him over and tossed him the bag after fishing out the first aid kit. “Find the satellite phone and call Cody! Mr. Harrington can’t wait that long.”

Peter opened up the first aid kit with its bandages, tongue depressors, and tensor bandages and froze. Mr. Stark would shit bricks if he saw this set up. He couldn’t use this. He scanned the area and then saw it, “Betty! Pass me my backpack, please!” He had started pulling away the denim of his teacher’s jeans from the wound.

She moved from her spot by the edge and grabbed the bag that she’d been closest to. She was already opening it for him. “What do you need from it,” she asked.

“The blue and red kit at the bottom.” Yes, Mr. Stark had a sense of humour.

She rushed to find it, but they were all distracted from their tasks when Ned uttered a meek, “uh, Pete?”

Peter turned to Ned and paled. Oh, boy. Mr. Stark was gonna buy Seneca Lake Survival Camp and turn it into a paddleboat rental and picnic area. Satellite phones were made to last beyond a tumble down a riverbank—and this one was in pieces.

Peter closed his eyes and took in a centering breath.

He was grateful that Mr. Harrington was his favourite teacher. If he was about to throw his secret identity to the wind, at least it would be for a good and kind-hearted person.

He released the breath, nice and slow, opened his eyes and saw Ned watching him. Yeah, Ned understood and gave an encouraging nod of support. He only hesitated a second, and then pressed the emergency button on his Starkwatch.

Yup. Hellfire was coming. But until then, he pulled himself back together and got back to business. “Betty, the first aid kit, now.”

She pulled it from the bag and handed it to him.

“Ned, come help me. You helped me study for half of this...”

Ned dropped the bag and phone to the ground and rushed over, kneeling beside him as he pulled out scissors to cut away Mr. Harrington’s pant leg.

Now Brad had something to say, “Wait a minute, why are we listening to Parker all of a sudden? I’m the oldest one here, I should be in charge.”

MJ wasn’t having any of it and stepped in front of the boy before he could cause a problem. “Look, Brad, I’m gonna have to ask you to bring your Lord of the Flies shit to another island, okay?”

Peter snorted at her response. Geez, he loved her so... wha? Nope. Not the time, brain. Pack it away...

And then Flash piped up, “He needs a tourniquet, right?”

“Only if you want him to lose his leg,” Peter replied as he rifled through the gloriously stocked kit. He found the supply of gloves and snapped on a pair. Before anyone watching knew it, he was also creating a ring out of a cotton sling. “Ned? Get gloves on. You need to hold this.” Ned was on it like lightning, then placing the fabric ring around the branch protruding from the front of the unconscious man’s leg. Peter made another, brought it to the second side of the man’s leg and guarded the branch there. With a quick, secure wrap, the puncture was dealt with.

The splint was a little more effort, but MJ had found some branches for him to use as a splint when she realized what they’d need. He hadn’t wanted to mess with it too much just because, but he felt confident that it was as stable as they could make it for the situation.

That done, Peter rested on his heels for a second. He’d been most worried about the branch—first because it was just gnarly to look at, but second because...

Mr. Harrington groaned and started to writhe—weakly, and Peter was grateful for prioritizing the leg. But then the man gasped out, “sick,” and Peter was back to work.

“Help me, Ned!” The two boys quickly positioned Mr. Harrington into the recovery position and watched as he vomited into the grass. Once Mr. Harrington was done, the still gloved Peter carefully wiped away the worst of the sick so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t fall into his own mess and discarded his gloves.

If that wasn’t a reminder that the head wound still needed to be dealt with...

Peter looked up at his classmates, feeling torn. Mr. Harrington needed stitches. Leaving the wound open wouldn’t kill him, but leaving it open could put him at risk of all sorts of nasty infection.

But that part of him was hoping that, for all of the panic, they hadn’t noticed him scaling up a crumbling fifteen foot river bank. No one had said anything so maybe? Even the Avengers could be explained, right?—and Flash would finally give the whole intern thing a rest. But how do you explain away a sixteen year old knowing how to do field medic quality stitches?

He gave Mr. Harrington a quick visual assessment, saw the bandages stabilizing the wound, and then laughed. Okay—maybe it was a little too late to worry about that.

Peter grabbed the hand sanitizer from the kit, using it before grabbing a new set of gloves. He dug around and found the rubbing alcohol and stitch kits, then grabbed one and looked over to his classmates. “Um, guys! If you’re squeamish, you may want to look away, okay?”

No of them moved, seemingly captivated by the scene playing out in front of them.

He grimaced. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” and proceeded to clean the gaping wound on Mr. Harrington’s forehead before he pulled out the pre-threaded needle and got to work.

Peter smirked as he heard Brad gag and rush off into the trees. There went their mighty leader.

Ned had stayed next to Peter, his trusty ‘Guy in the Chair,’ and held Mr. Harrington’s hair away from the gash. “Peter,” he whispered, “You are a beast.”

“Thanks, man.” He whispered back as he tied the last of the stitches off. “There.” He’d done it. And now he’d wait and see.

Peter put the needle into the little sharps container also found within the kit and cleaned up all of the bloody gauze and gloves he’d tossed aside as he’d gone.

Brad was just stumbling back to the group so Peter called out to him, “You doin’ alright there, Brad?”—not at all intending to sound smug so if it had been misconstrued, that wasn’t his fault at all, was it?

Brad flipped him the bird and chuckled. “Bite me, Parker.”  

MJ stepped away from the others, “So what’s next, Peter?” Yeah, she totally knew who he was.

He simply lifted his hand to show the Starkwatch on his wrist. “Now we wait.”

* * * * * *

It was forty-five minutes later that Iron Man came rocketing into their small patch of clearing.

Peter was on his feet before the man could land. “Mr. Stark, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the cabin! Does anyone even know that you’re here?”

Mr. Stark stepped out of the suit, and ignored the gasps from the kids behind them. “My kid set off a distress call. Do you think I’m gonna sit on my ass and wait for someone to fill me in after all the fun is over? Try again, kid.” He looked around and caught sight of Mr. Harrington lying still on the ground. He looked back at his boy, “I’m guessing this is the reason...”

“Yeah, the satellite phone was busted and we had no way to get help so...”

Mr. Stark walked over to the man and crouched down to assess. “Your stitches?” he called over to him.

“Yeah,” Peter replied.

“Good work! Sam’ll be glad to see how even they are...” and then he caught a glimpse of the leg. “Do I want to know?”

Peter shook his head, “Broken, puncture wound. It’s gross so...” he shrugged.

Mr. Stark nodded in understanding. “Got it.”

In that moment, Mr. Barton and Dr. Banner came stumbling through the trees dragging a spinal board and med kit with them.

“Hey, everyone! Did somebody call for an Uber?” Mr. Barton called out like the goof that he was, even as he scanned the area for threats.

“Sorry, Mr. Barton, no uber for you today.” Peter called him over. “Med evac would be great, though.”

Mr. Barton and Dr. Banner immediately got down to business, but not without Dr. Banner giving Mr. Stark a quick lecture on what rest and retirement mean.

And then Mr. Barton explained. “We’ve set down in a clearing about ten minutes north of here. We did a scan of the area and got a read on the situation, so we’re good to go.” He and Dr. Banner were already working in tandem to get Mr. Harrington onto the board.

Dr. Banner was looking confused as he set about to secure the man’s head and neck. “Hey, Pete?” he called out, “What did you say your teacher’s name is?”

“Mr. Harrington, why?”

“Do you know his first name?”

“Sure, it’s Roger.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dr. Banner laughed, even as he worked. “I wondered what you’d gotten up to, Rog!” He looked up at Peter and then the kids all standing around them. “I went to school with Roger! Huh? I thought for sure he’d end up working in tech somewhere.” Dr. Banner shook his head as he chuckled, “Small world, huh?”

Peter just shrugged, “I might be a little freaked out about this, so I’ll just agree.”

“Forget freaked out! This is alternate reality shit!” Ned couldn’t help but blurt out even as he and his classmates watched on.

Peter looked back at his friend, “I know, right?!”

Dr. Banner finished securing the final straps on the board and looked to Mr. Barton to confirm that he was done, too. With a nod, they were good to go.

“Alright, everyone. Grab your gear. We’re all gonna head back to the city and get your teacher some help. Okay? We can contact parents and guardians on the jet.” Mr. Barton called out. “We’re moving nice and steady so don’t worry about keeping up—and we’ll swing back to clean up your site tomorrow. Got it?”

Everyone nodded and rushed to put their backpacks on. Peter had grabbed his own bag and was scrambling to collect the discarded satellite phone and first aid kit when Mr. Stark came up beside him. He looked at the items in Peter’s hand, “I’m guessing I don’t want to know about that either?”

Peter shook his head and laughed. “I’m sure you’re about to hear all about it on the jet, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark looked at the boy fondly. “I’m sure I will, kid.” Then he looked around the clearing. “You did good, kid. I hope you’re not regretting the trip after this.”

Peter thought about for a second. He didn’t know what would happen after this, or when his friends would put all the pieces together, but he couldn’t regret being here to help. Not ever.

He smiled then, and simply said, “Mr. Stark, I have the best bedtime story to tell to Morgan when we get back...”

 @febuwhump

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Some Zombie Contingency Plan

s by Kelly Link This is a story about being lost in the woods. This guy Soap is at a party out in the suburbs. The thing you need to know about Soap is that he keeps a small framed oil painting in the trunk of his car. The painting is about the size of a paperback novel. Wherever Soap goes, this oil painting goes with him. But he leaves the painting in the trunk of his car, because you don’t walk around a party carrying a painting. People will think you’re weird. Soap doesn’t know anyone here. He’s crashed the party, which is what he does now, when he feels lonely. On weekends, he just drives around the suburbs until he finds one of those summer twilight parties that are so big that they spill out onto the yard. Kids are out on the lawn of a two-story house, lying on the damp grass and drinking beer out of plastic cups. Soap has brought along a six-pack. It’s the least he can do. He walks through the house, past four black guys sitting all over a couch. They’re watching a football game and there’s some music on the stereo. The television is on mute. Over by the TV, a white girl is dancing by herself. When she gets too close to it, the guys on the couch start complaining. Soap finds the kitchen. There’s one of those big professional ovens and a lot of expensive-looking knives stuck to a magnetic strip on the wall. It’s funny, Soap thinks, how expensive stuff always looks more dangerous, and also safer, both of these things at the same time. He pokes around in the fridge and finds some pre-sliced cheese and English muffins. He grabs three slices of cheese, the muffins, and puts the beer in the fridge. There’s also a couple of steaks, and so he takes one out, heats up the broiler. A girl wanders into the kitchen. She’s black and her hair goes up and up and on top are these sturdy, springy curls like little waves. Toe to top of her architectural haircut, she’s as tall as Soap. She has eyes the color of iceberg lettuce. There’s a heart-shaped rhinestone under one green eye. The rhinestone winks at Soap like it knows him. She’s gorgeous, but Soap knows better than to fool around with girls who aren’t out of high school yet, maybe. “What are you doing?” she says. “Cooking a steak,” Soap says. “Want one?” “No,” she says. “I already ate.” She sits up on the counter beside the sink and swings her legs. She’s wearing a bikini top, pink shorts, and no shoes. “Who are you?” she says. “Will,” Soap says, although Will isn’t his name. Soap isn’t his real name, either. “I’m Carly,” she says. “You want a beer?” “There’s beer in the fridge,” Will says, and Carly says, “I know there is.” Will opens and closes drawers and cabinet doors until he’s found a plate, a fork and a knife, and garlic salt. He takes his steak out of the oven. “You go to State?” Carly says. She pops off the beer top against the lip of the kitchen counter, and Will knows she’s showing off. “No,” Will says. He sits down at the kitchen table and cuts off a piece of steak. He’s been lonely ever since he and his friend Mike got out of prison and Mike went out to Seattle. It’s nice to sit in a kitchen and talk to a girl. “So what do you do?” Carly says. She sits down at the table, across from him. She lifts her arms up and stretches until her back cracks. She’s got nice tits. “Telemarketing,” Will says, and Carly makes a face. “That sucks,” she says. “Yeah,” Will says. “No, it isn’t too bad. I like talking to people. I just got out of prison.” He takes another big bite of steak. “No way,” Carly says. “What did you do?” Will chews. He swallows. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” “Okay,” Carly says. “Do you like museums?” Will says. She looks like a girl who goes to museums. Some drunk white kid wanders into the kitchen. He says hey to Will and then he lies down on the floor with his head under Carly’s chair. “Carly, Carly, Carly,” he says. “I am so in love with you right now. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. And you don’t even know my name. That’s hurtful.” “Museums are okay,” Carly says. “I like concerts. Jazz. Improvisational comedy. I like stuff that isn’t the same every time you look at it.” “How about zombies?” Will says. No more steak. He mops up meat juice with one of the muffins. Maybe he could eat another one of those steaks. The kid with his head under Carly’s chair says, “Carly? Carly? Carly? I like it when you sit on my face, Carly.” “You mean like horror movies?” Carly says. “The living dead,” says the kid under the chair. “The walking dead. Why do the dead walk everywhere? Why don’t they just catch the bus?” “You still hungry?” Carly says to Will. “I could make you some cinnamon toast. Or some soup.” “They could carpool,” the kid under the chair says. “Hey y’all, I don’t know why they call carpools carpools. It’s not like there are cars with swimming pools in them. Because people might drown on their way to school. What a weird word. Carpool. Carpool. Carly’s pool. There are naked people in Carly’s pool, but Carly isn’t naked in Carly’s pool.” “Is there a phone around here?” Will says. “I was thinking I should call my dad. He’s having open-heart surgery tomorrow.” It’s not his name, but let’s call him Soap. That’s what they called him in prison, although not for the reasons you’re thinking. When he was a kid, he’d read a book about a boy named Soap. So he didn’t mind the nickname. It was better than Oatmeal, which is what one guy ended up getting called. You don’t want to know why Oatmeal got called Oatmeal. It would put you off oatmeal. Soap was in prison for six months. In some ways, six months isn’t a long time. You spend longer inside your mother. But six months in prison is enough time to think about things and all around you, everyone else is thinking too. It can make you go crazy, wondering what other people are thinking about. Some guys thought about their families, and other guys thought about revenge, or how they were going to get rich. Some guys took correspondence courses or fell in love because of what one of the volunteer art instructors said about one of their watercolors. Soap didn’t take an art course, but he thought about art. Art was why Soap was in prison. This sounded romantic, but really, it was just stupid. Even before Soap and his friend Mike went to prison, Soap was sure that he’d had opinions about art, even though he hadn’t known much about art. It was the same with prison. Art and prison were the kind of things that you had opinions about, even if you didn’t know anything about them. Soap still didn’t know much about art. These were some of the things that he had known about art before prison: He knew what he liked when he saw it. As it had turned out, he knew what he liked, even when he couldn’t see it. Museums gave him hiccups. He had hiccups a lot of the time while he was in prison too. These were some of the things Soap figured out about art while he was in prison. Great art came out of great suffering. Soap had gone through a lot of shit because of art. There was a difference between art, which you just looked at, and things like soap, which you used. Even if the soap smelled so good that you didn’t want to use it, only smell it. This was why people got so pissed off about art. Because you didn’t eat it, and you didn’t sleep on it, and you couldn’t put it up your nose. A lot of people said things like “That’s not art” when whatever they were talking about could clearly not have been anything else, except art. When Soap got tired of thinking about art, he thought about zombies. He worked on his zombie contingency plan. Thinking about zombies was less tiring than thinking about art. Here’s what Soap knew about zombies: Zombies were not about sex. Zombies were not interested in art. Zombies weren’t complicated. It wasn’t like werewolves or ghosts or vampires. Vampires, for example, were the middle/upper-middle management of the supernatural world. Some people thought of vampires as rock stars, but really they were more like Martha Stewart. Vampires were prissy. They had to follow rules. They had to look good. Zombies weren’t like that. You couldn’t exorcise zombies. You didn’t need luxury items like silver bullets or crucifixes or holy water. You just shot zombies in the head, or set fire to them, or hit them over the head really hard. There were some guys in the prison who knew about that. There were guys in the prison who knew about anything you might want to know about. There were guys who knew things that you didn’t want to know. It was like a library, except it wasn’t. Zombies didn’t discriminate. Everyone tasted equally good as far as zombies were concerned. And anyone could be a zombie. You didn’t have to be special, or good at sports, or good-looking. You didn’t have to smell good, or wear the right kind of clothes, or listen to the right kind of music. You just had to be slow. Soap liked this about zombies. There is never just one zombie. There was something about clowns that was worse than zombies. (Or maybe something that was the same. When you see a zombie, you want to laugh at first. When you see a clown, most people get a little nervous. There’s the pallor and the cakey mortician-style makeup, the shuffling and the untidy hair. But clowns were probably malicious, and they moved fast on those little bicycles and in those little, crammed cars. Zombies weren’t much of anything. They didn’t carry musical instruments and they didn’t care whether or not you laughed at them. You always knew what zombies wanted.) Given a choice, Soap would take zombies over clowns any day. There was a white guy in the prison who had been a clown. Nobody was sure why he was in prison. It turned out that everyone in the prison had a zombie contingency plan, once you asked them, just like everyone in prison had a prison escape plan, only nobody talked about those. Soap tried not to dwell on escape plans, although sometimes he dreamed that he was escaping. Then the zombies would show up. They always showed up in his escape dreams. You could escape prison, but you couldn’t escape zombies. This was true in Soap’s dreams, just the way it was true in the movies. You couldn’t get any more true than that. According to Soap’s friend Mike, who was also in prison, people worried too much about zombies and not enough about icebergs. Even though icebergs were real. Mike pointed out that icebergs were slow, like zombies. Maybe you could adapt zombie contingency plans to cope with icebergs. Mike asked Soap to start thinking about icebergs. No one else was. Somebody had to plan for icebergs, according to Mike. Even after Soap got out of prison, when it was much too late, he still dreamed about escaping from prison. “So whose house is this, anyway?” Will asks Carly. She’s walking up the stairs in front of him. If he reached out just one hand, he could untie her bikini top. It would just fall off. “This girl,” Carly says, and proceeds to relate a long, sad story. “A friend of mine. Her parents took her to France for this bicycle tour. They’re into Amway. This trip is some kind of bonus. Like, her father sold a bunch of water filters and so now everyone has to go to France and build their own bicycles. In Marseilles. Isn’t that lame? She can’t even speak French. She’s a Francophilophobe. She’s a klutz. Her parents don’t even like her. If they could have, they would have left her at home. Or maybe they’ll leave her somewhere in France. Shit, would I love to see her try and ride a bike in France. She’ll probably fall right over the Alps. I hate her. We were going to have this party and then she said I should go ahead and have it without her. She’s really pissed off at her parents.” “Is this a bathroom?” Will says. “Hold on a minute.” He goes in and takes a piss. He flushes and when he goes to wash his hands, he sees that the people who own this house have put some chunk of fancy soap beside the sink. He sniffs the soap. Then he opens up the door. Carly is standing there talking to some Asian girl wearing a strapless dress with little shiny fake plastic flowers all over it. It’s too big for her in the bust, so she’s holding the front out like she’s waiting for someone to come along and drop a weasel in it. Will wonders who the dress belongs to, and why this girl would want to wear an ugly dress like that, anyway. He holds out the soap. “Smell this,” he says to Carly and she does. “What does it smell like?” “I don’t know,” she says. “Marmalade?” “Lemongrass,” Will says. He marches back into the bathroom and opens up the window. There’s a swimming pool down there with people in it. He throws the soap out the window and some guy in the pool yells, “Hey!” “Why’d he do that?” the girl in the hall says. Carly starts laughing. Soap’s friend Mike had a girlfriend named Jenny. Jenny never came to see Mike in prison. Soap felt bad about this. Soap’s dad was living in New Zealand and every once in a while Soap got a postcard. Soap’s mom, who lived in California out near Manhattan Beach, was too busy and too pissed off with Soap to visit him in prison. Soap’s mom didn’t tolerate stupidity or bad luck. Soap’s older sister, Becka, was the only family member who ever came to visit him in prison. Becka was an actress-waitress who had once been in a low-budget zombie movie. Soap had watched it once and wasn’t sure which was stranger: seeing your sister naked, or seeing your naked sister get eaten by zombies. Becka was almost good looking enough to be on a reality dating show, but not funny looking or sad enough to be on one of the makeover shows. Becka was always giving notice. So then their mom would buy Becka a round-trip ticket to go visit Soap. Soap figured he was supposed to be an example to Becka: find a good job and keep it, or you’ll end up in prison like your brother. Becka might have been average in L.A., but average in L.A. is Queen of Mars in the visiting room of a federal penitentiary in North Carolina. Guys kept asking Soap when they were going to see his sister on TV. Soap’s mom owned a boutique right on Manhattan Beach. It was called Float. Becka and Soap called it Wash Your Mouth. The boutique sold soaps and shampoos, nothing else. The soaps and shampoos were supposed to smell like food. What the soaps really smelled like were those candles that were supposed to smell like food, but which smelled instead like those air fresheners which hang from the rearview mirrors in taxis or stolen cars. Like looking behind you smells like strawberries. Like making a clean getaway smells the same as the room freshener Soap and Becka used to spray when they’d been smoking their mother’s pot, before she got home. Once when they were in high school, Soap and Becka had bought a urinal cake. It smelled like peppermint. They’d taken the urinal cake out of its packaging and put it in a fancy box with some tissue paper and a ribbon. Soap had wrapped it up and given it to their mother for Mother’s Day. Told her it was a pumice soap for exfoliating feet. Soap liked soap that smelled like soap. His mom was always sending care packages of soaps that smelled like olive oil and neroli and peppermint and brown sugar and cucumber and martinis and toasted marshmallow. You weren’t supposed to have bars of soap in prison. If you put a bar of soap in a sock, you could hit somebody over the head with it. You could clobber somebody. But Becka made an arrangement with the guards in the visiting room, and the guards in the visiting room made an arrangement with the guards in charge of the mailroom. Soap gave out his mother’s soaps to everyone in prison. Whoever wanted them. It turned out everyone wanted soap that smelled like food: social workers and prison guards and drug dealers and murderers and even people who hadn’t been able to afford good lawyers. No wonder his mom’s boutique did so well. While Soap was in prison, Becka kept Soap’s painting for him. Sometimes he asked and she brought it with her when she came to visit. He made her promise not to give it to their mother, not to pawn it for rent money, to keep it under her bed where it would be safe as long as her roommate’s cat didn’t sneak in. Becka promised that if there were a fire or an earthquake, she’d rescue the painting first. Even before she rescued her roommate or her roommate’s cat. Carly takes Will into a bedroom. There’s a big painting of a flower garden, and under the painting is a king-sized bed with dresses lying all over it. There are dresses on the floor. “Go ahead and call your dad,” Carly says. “I’ll come back in a while with some more beer. You want another beer?” “Why not?” Will says. He waits until she leaves the room and then he calls his dad. When his dad picks up the phone, he says, “Hey, Dad, how’s it going?” “Junior!” his dad says. “How’s it going?” “Did I wake you up? What time is it there?” Junior says. “Doesn’t matter,” his dad says. “I was working on a jigsaw puzzle. No picture on the box. I think it’s lemurs. Or maybe binturongs.” “Not much,” Junior says. “Staying out of trouble.” “Super,” his dad says. “That’s super.” “I was thinking about that thing we talked about. About how I could come visit you sometime?” Junior says. “Sure,” his dad says. His dad is always enthusiastic about Junior’s ideas. “Hey, that would be great. Get out of that fucking country while you still can. Come visit your old dad. We could do father-son stuff. Go bungee jumping.” The girl in the plastic flower dress marches into the bedroom. She takes the dress off and drops it on the bed. She goes into the closet and comes out again holding a dress made out of black and purple feathers. It looks like something a dancer in Las Vegas might wear when she got off work. “Some girl just came in and took off all her clothes,” Junior says to his dad. “Well you give her my best,” his dad says, and hangs up. “My dad says hello,” Junior says to the naked girl. Then he says, “My dad and I have a question for you. Do you ever worry about zombies? Do you have a zombie contingency plan?” The girl just smiles like she thinks that’s a good question. She puts the new dress on. She walks out. Will calls his sister, but Becka isn’t answering her cell phone. So Will picks up all the dresses and goes into the closet. He hangs them up. People clean up after themselves. Zombies don’t. In Will’s opinion, zombies are attracted to suburbs the way that tornadoes are attracted to trailer parks. Maybe it’s all the windows. Maybe houses in suburbs have too many windows and that’s what drives zombies nuts. If the zombies showed up tonight, Will would barricade the bedroom door with the heavy oak dresser. Will will let the naked girl come in first. Carly too. The three of them will make a rope by tying all those dresses together and escape through the window. Maybe they could make wings out of that feather dress and fly away. Will could be the Bird Man of Suburbitraz. Will looks under the bed, just to make sure there are no zombies or suitcases or that drunk guy from downstairs under there. There’s a little black kid in Superman pajamas curled up asleep under the bed. When Becka was a kid, she kept a suitcase under the bed. The suitcase was full of things that were to be rescued in case of an earthquake or a fire or murderers. The suitcase’s secondary function was using up some of the dangerous, dark space under the bed which might otherwise have been inhabited by monsters or dead people. Here be suitcases. In the suitcase, Becka kept a candle shaped like a dragon, which she’d bought at the mall with some birthday money and then couldn’t bear to use as a candle; a little ceramic dog; some favorite stuffed animals; their mother’s charm bracelet; a photo album; Black Beauty and a whole lot of other horse books. Every once in a while Becka and her little brother would drag the suitcase back out from under the bed and sort through it. Becka would take things out and put other things in. Her little brother always felt happy and safe when he helped Becka do this. When things got bad, you would rescue what you could. Modern art is a waste of time. When the zombies show up, you can’t worry about art. Art is for people who aren’t worried about zombies. Besides zombies and icebergs, there are other things that Soap has been thinking about. Tsunamis, earthquakes, Nazi dentists, killer bees, army ants, black plague, old people, divorce lawyers, sorority girls, Jimmy Carter, giant squids, rabid foxes, strange dogs, news anchors, child actors, fascists, narcissists, psychologists, ax murderers, unrequited love, footnotes, zeppelins, the Holy Ghost, Catholic priests, John Lennon, chemistry teachers, redheaded men with British accents, librarians, spiders, nature books with photographs of spiders in them, darkness, teachers, swimmming pools, smart girls, pretty girls, rich girls, angry girls, tall girls, nice girls, girls with superpowers, giant lizards, blind dates who turn out to have narcolepsy, angry monkeys, feminine hygiene commercials, sitcoms about aliens, things under the bed, contact lenses, ninjas, performance artists, mummies, spontaneous combustion. Soap has been afraid of all of these things at one time or another. Ever since he went to prison, he’s realized that he doesn’t have to be afraid. All he has to do is come up with a plan. Be prepared. It’s just like the Boy Scouts, except you have to be even more prepared. You have to prepare for everything that the Boy Scouts didn’t prepare you for, which is pretty much everything. Soap is a waste of time too. What good is soap in a zombie situation? Soap sometimes imagines himself trapped in his mother’s soap boutique. Zombies are coming out of the surf, dripping wet, hellishly hungry, always so fucking slow, shuffling hopelessly up through the sand of Manhattan Beach. Soap has barricaded himself in Float with his mother and some blond Japanese tourists with surfboards. “Do something, sweetheart!” his mother implores. So Sweetheart throws water all over the floor. There’s the surfboards, a baseball bat under the counter, some rolls of quarters, and a swordfish mounted up on the wall, but Sweetheart decides the cash register is best for bashing. He tells the Japanese tourists to get down on their hands and knees and rub soap all over the floor. When the zombies finally find a way into Float, his mother and the tourists can hide behind the counter. The zombies will slip all over the floor and Sweetheart will bash them in the head with the cash register. It will be just like a Busby Berkeley zombie musical. “What’s going on?” Carly says. “How’s your father doing?” “He’s fine,” Will says. “Except for the open-heart surgery thing. Except for that, he’s good. I was just looking under the bed. There’s a little kid under there.” “Oh,” Carly says. “Him. That’s the little brother. Of my friend. Le bro de mon ami. I’m taking care of him. He likes to sleep under the bed.” “What’s his name?” Will says. “Leo,” Carly says. She hands Will a beer and sits down on the bed beside him. “So tell me about this prison thing. What did you do? Should I be afraid of you?” “Probably not,” Will says. “It doesn’t do much good to be afraid of things.” “So tell me what you did,” Carly says. She burps so loud that Will is amazed that the kid under the bed doesn’t wake up. Leo. “This is a great party,” Will says. “Thanks for hanging out with me.” “Somebody just puked out of a window in the living room. Someone else almost threw up in the swimming pool, but I got them out in time. If someone throws up on the piano, I’m in big trouble. You can’t get puke out from between piano keys.” Will thinks Carly says this like she knows what she’s talking about. There are girls who have had years of piano lessons, and then there are girls who have taken piano lessons who also know how to throw a party and how to clean throw-up out of a piano. There’s something sexy about a girl who knows how to play the piano, and keys that stick for no apparent reason. Will doesn’t have any zombie contingency plans that involve pianos, and it makes him sick. How could he have forgotten pianos? “I’ll help you clean up,” Will says. “If you want.” “You don’t have to try so hard, you know,” Carly says. She stares right at him, like there’s a spider on his face or an interesting tattoo, some word spelled upside down in a foreign language that she wants to understand. Will doesn’t have any tattoos. As far as he’s concerned, tattoos are like art, only worse. Will stares right back. He says, “When I was at this party outside Kansas City, I heard this story about a kid who threw a lot of parties while his parents were on vacation. Right before they got home, he realized how fucked up the house was, and so he burned it down.” This story always makes Will laugh. What a dumb kid. “You want to help me burn down my friend’s house?” Carly says. She smiles, like, what a good joke. What a nice guy he is. “What time is it? Two? If it’s two in the morning, then you have to tell me why you went to prison. It’s like a rule. We’ve known each other for at least an hour, and it’s late at night and I still don’t know why you were in prison, even though I can tell you want to tell me or otherwise you wouldn’t have told me you were in prison in the first place. Was what you did that bad?” “No,” Will says. “It was just really stupid.” “Stupid is good,” Carly says. “Come on. Pretty please.” She pulls back the cover on the bed and crawls under it, pulls the sheets up to her chin. Good night, Carly. Good night, Carly’s gorgeous tits. It was so small and it was so far away, even when you looked at it up close. Soap said it was trees. A wood. Mike said it was a painting of an iceberg. When Soap thinks about the zombies, he thinks about how there’s nowhere you can go that the zombies won’t find you. Even the fairy tales that Becka used to read to him. Ali Baba and the Forty Zombies. Open Zombie. Snow White and the Seven Tiny Zombies. Any place Will thinks of, the zombies will eventually get there too. He pictures all of these places as paintings in a gallery, because as long as a place is just a painting, it’s a safe place. Landscapes with frames around them, to keep the landscapes from leaking out. To keep the zombies from getting in. A ski resort in summer, all those lonely gondolas. An oil rig on a sea at night. The Museum of Natural History. The Playboy mansion. The Eiffel Tower. The Matterhorn. David Letterman’s house. Buckingham Palace. A bowling alley. A Laundromat. He puts himself in the painting of the flower garden that’s hanging above the bed where he and Carly are sitting, and it’s sunny and warm and safe and beautiful. But once he puts himself into the painting, the zombies show up just like they always do. The space station. New Zealand. He bets his dad thinks he’s safe from zombies in New Zealand, because it’s an island. His dad is an idiot. People paint trees all the time. All kinds of trees. Art is supposed to be about things like trees. Or icebergs, although there are more paintings of trees than there are paintings of icebergs, so Mike doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “I wasn’t in prison for very long,” Soap says. “What Mike and I did wasn’t really that bad. We didn’t hurt anybody.” “You don’t look like a bad guy,” Carly says. And when Soap looks at Carly, she looks like a nice kid. A nice girl with nice tits. But Soap knows you can’t tell by looking. Soap and Mike were going to be rich once they got out of college. The two of them had it all figured out. They were going to have an excellent website, just as soon as they figured out what it was going to be about, and what to call it. While they were in prison, they decided this website would have been about zombies. That would have been fucking awesome. Hungryzombie.com, lonelyzombie.com, nakedzombie.com, soyoumarriedazombie.com, zombiecontingencyplan.com, dotcomofthewalkingdead.com were just a few of the names they came up with. In Will’s opinion, people will go anywhere if there’s a zombie involved. Cool people would have gone to the site and hooked up. People would have talked about old horror movies, or about their horrible temp jobs. There would have been comics and concerts. There would have been advertising, sponsors, movie deals. Soap would have been able to afford art. He would have bought Picassos and Vermeers and original comic book art. He would have bought drinks for women. Beautiful, bisexual, bionic women with unpronounceable names and weird habits in bed. Only by the time Soap and Mike and the rest of their friends got out of school, all of that was already over. Nobody cared if you had a website. Everybody already had websites. No one was going to give you money. There were lots of guys who knew how to do what Soap and Mike knew how to do. It turned out that Mike’s and Soap’s parents had paid a lot of money for them to learn how to do things that everyone could already do. Mike had a girlfriend named Jenny. Soap liked Jenny because she teased him, but Jenny really isn’t important to this story. She wasn’t ever going to fall in love with Soap, and Soap knew it. What matters is that Jenny worked in a museum, and so Soap and Mike started going to museum events, because you got Brie on crackers and wine and martinis. Free food. All you had to do was wear a suit and listen to people talk about art and mortgages and their children. There would be a lot of older women who reminded Soap of his mother, and it was clear that Soap reminded these women of their sons. What was never clear was whether these women were flirting with him, or whether they wanted his advice about something that even they couldn’t put their finger on. One morning, in prison, Soap woke up and realized that the opportunity had been there and he’d never even seen it. He and Mike, they could have started a website for older upper-middle-class women with strong work ethics and confused, resentful grown-up children with bachelor degrees and no jobs. That was better than zombies. They could even have done some good. “Okay,” Will says. “I’ll tell you why I went to prison. But first you have to tell me what you’d do if zombies showed up at your party. Tonight. I ask everyone this. Everyone has a zombie contingency plan.” “You mean like with colleges, just in case you don’t get into your first choice?” Carly says. She holds an eyelid open, puts her finger to her eyeball, and pops out a contact lens. She puts it on the table beside the bed. She doesn’t take the other lens out. Maybe that eye isn’t scratchy. “So my eyes aren’t actually green. The breasts are real, by the way. I don’t watch a lot of horror movies. They give me nightmares. Leo likes that stuff.” Will sits on the other side of the bed and watches her. She’s thinking about it. Maybe she likes how the world looks through one green contact lens. “My parents keep a gun in the fridge. I guess I’d go get it and shoot the zombies? Or maybe I’d hide in my mom’s closet? Behind all her shoes and stuff? I’d cry a lot. I’d scream for help. I’d call the police.” “Okay,” Will says. “I was just wondering. What about your brother? How would you protect him?” Carly yawns like she isn’t impressed at all, but Will can see she’s impressed. It’s just that she’s sleepy, too. “Smart Will. You knew this was my house all along. You knew Leo was my brother. Am I such a bad liar?” “Yeah,” Will says. “There’s a picture of you and Leo over on your parents’ dresser.” “Okay,” Carly says. “This is my parents’ bedroom. They’re in France building bicycles, and they left me and they left Leo here. So I threw a party. Serves them right if someone burns their house down.” “I feel like we’ve known each other for a long time,” Will says. “Even though we just met. For example, I knew your eyes weren’t really green.” “We don’t really know each other very well,” Carly says. But she says it in a friendly way. “I keep trying to get to know you better. I bet you didn’t know that I want to be president someday.” “I bet you didn’t know that I think about icebergs a lot, although not as much as I think about zombies,” Will says. “I’d like to go live on an iceberg,” Carly says. “And I’d like to be president too. Maybe I could do both. I could be the first black woman president who lives on an iceberg.” “I’d vote for you,” Will says. “Will,” Carly says. “Don’t you want to get under the covers with me? Are you intimidated by the fact that I’m going to be president someday? Are you intimidated by competent, successful women?” Will says, “Do you want to fool around or do you want me to tell how I ended up in prison? Door A or Door B. I’m a really good kisser, but Leo is asleep under the bed. Your brother.” Jenny and Mike used to go off and kiss in the museum where Jenny worked, but Soap never kissed Jenny. Once, in college, Soap kissed Mike. They were both drunk. Men kissed men in prison. White men made out with black men. Becka used to make out with her boyfriends out on the beach while her brother hid in the dunes and watched. In the zombie movie, a zombie ate Becka’s lips. You don’t ever want to kiss a zombie. “He’s a heavy sleeper,” Carly says. “Maybe you should just tell me what you did and we can go from there.” Soap and Mike and a couple of their friends were at one of the parties at the little private museum where Jenny worked. They drank a lot of wine and they didn’t eat much except some olives. Jenny was busy and so Soap and Mike and their friends left the gallery where the wine and cheese were laid out, where the docents and the rich people were getting to know each other, and wandered out into the rest of the museum. They got farther and farther away from Jenny’s event, but nobody told them to come back and nobody showed up and asked them what they were doing. The other galleries were dark and so somebody dared Mike to go in one of them. They wanted to see if an alarm would go off. Mike did and the alarm didn’t. Next Soap went into the gallery. His name wasn’t Soap then. His name was Arthur, but everybody called him Art. Ha ha. You couldn’t see anything in the gallery. Art felt stupid just standing there, so he put his hands straight out in front of him in the darkness and walked forward until his fingers touched a wall. He kept his fingers on the wall and walked around the room. Every now and then his fingers would touch a frame and he’d move his hand up and down and along the frame to see how big the painting was. He walked all the way around the room until he was at the door again. Then somebody else went in, it was Markson who went in, and when Markson came out, he was holding a painting in his arms. It was about three feet by three feet. A painting of a ship with a lot of masts and sails. Lots of little dabs of blue. Little people on the deck of the ship, looking busy. “Holy shit,” Mike said. “Markson, what did you just do?” You have to understand that Markson was an idiot. Everyone knew that. Right then he was a drunk idiot, but everyone else was drunk too. “I just wanted to see what it looked like,” Markson said. “I didn’t think it would be so heavy.” He put the painting down against the wall. No alarms were going off. The gallery on the other side of the hall was dark too. So they made it a game. Everyone went into one of the galleries and walked around and chose a painting. Then you came out again and saw what you had. Someone got a Seurat. Someone had a Mary Cassatt. Someone else had a Winslow Homer. There were a lot of paintings by artists whom none of them knew. So those didn’t count. Art went back into the first gallery. This time he was slow. There were already some gaps on the gallery wall. He put his ear up against some of the paintings. He felt that he was listening for something, only he didn’t know what. He chose a very small painting. When he got it out into the hall, he saw it was an oil painting. A blobby blue-green mass that might have been water or a person or it might have been trees. Woods from very far away. Something slow and far away. He couldn’t read the artist’s signature. Mike was in the other gallery. When he came out with a painting, the painting turned out to be a Picasso. Some sad-looking freaky woman and her sad-looking freaky dog. Everyone agreed that Mike had won. Then that idiot Markson said, “I bet you can’t walk out of here with that Picasso.” Sometimes when he’s in houses that don’t belong to him, Soap feels bad. He shouldn’t be where he is. He doesn’t belong anywhere. Nobody really knows him. If they did, they wouldn’t like him. Everyone always seems happier than Soap, and as if they know something that Soap doesn’t. He tells himself that things will be different when the zombies show up. “You guys stole a Picasso?” Carly says. “It was a minor Picasso. Hardly a Picasso at all. We weren’t really stealing it,” Will says. “We just thought it would be funny to smuggle it out of Jenny’s museum and see how far we got with it. We just walked out of the museum and nobody stopped us. We put the Picasso in the car and drove back to our apartment. I took that little painting too, just so the Picasso would have company. And because I wanted to spend some more time looking at it. I put it under my coat, under one arm, while the other guys were helping Mike get past the party without being seen. We hung the Picasso in the living room when we got back and I put the little painting in my bedroom. We were still drunk when the police showed up. Jenny lost her job. We went to prison. Markson and the other guys had to do community service.” He stops talking. Carly takes his hand. She squeezes it. She says, “That’s the weirdest story I’ve ever heard. Why is it that everything is so much sadder and funnier and so much more true when you’re drunk?” “I haven’t told you the weird part yet,” Will says. He can’t tell her the weirdest part of the story, although maybe he can try to show her. “Did I tell you that I used to be on my school’s debate team?” Carly says. “That’s the weirdest thing about me. I like getting in arguments. The boy with his head under my chair, I kicked his ass in a debate about marijuana. I humiliated him all over the map.” Will doesn’t use drugs anymore. It’s too much like being in a museum. It makes everything look like art, and makes everything feel like just before the zombies show up. He says, “The museum said that I hadn’t stolen the little painting from them. They said it wasn’t theirs, even when I explained the whole thing. I told the truth and everyone thought I was lying. The police asked around, just in case Mike and I had done the same thing somewhere else, at some other museum, and nobody came forward. Nobody knew the artist’s name. So finally they just gave the painting back to me. They thought I was trying to pull some scam.” “So what happened to it?” Carly says. “I’ve still got it. My sister kept it for me while I was in prison,” Will says. “For two years. Since I got out, I’ve been trying to find a place to ditch it. I’ve left it a couple of places, but then it turns out that I haven’t. I can’t leave it behind. No matter how hard I try. It doesn’t belong to me, but I can’t get rid of it.” “My friend Jessica does this thing she calls shopleaving,” Carly says. “When someone gives her a hideous shirt for her birthday or if she buys a book and it’s not any good, she goes into a store and leaves the shirt on a hanger. She leaves the book on the shelf. Once she took this crazy, mean parakeet to a shoe store and put him in a shoebox. What happened to your friend? Mike?” “He went to Seattle. He started up a website for ex-cons. He got a lot of funding. There are a lot of people out there who have been in prison. They need websites.” “That’s nice,” Carly says. “That’s like a happy ending.” “I’ve got the painting in the car,” Will says. “Do you want it?” “I like Van Gogh,” Carly says. “And Georgia O’Keeffe.” “Let me go get it,” Will says. He goes downstairs before she can stop him. The guys on the couch are watching somebody’s wedding video now. He wonders what they would think if they knew Carly was upstairs in bed, waiting for him. The dancing girl is in the kitchen with the boy under the table. The girl in the dress is out on the lawn. She isn’t doing anything except maybe looking at stars. She watches Will go to his car, open the trunk, and take out the little painting. Out behind the house, Will can hear people in the pool. Will hasn’t felt this peaceful in a long time. It’s like that first slow part in a horror movie, before the bad thing happens. Will knows that sometimes you shouldn’t try to anticipate the bad thing. Sometimes you are supposed to just listen to swimmers fooling around in a pool. People you can’t see. The night and the moon and the girl in the dress. Will stands on the lawn for a while, holding the painting, wishing that Becka was here with him. Or Mike. Will takes the painting back upstairs and into the master bedroom. He turns the lights off and wakes Carly up. She’s been crying in her sleep. “Here it is,” he says. “Will?” Carly says. “You turned off the light. Is it the ocean? It looks like the ocean. I can’t really see anything.” “Sure you can,” Will says. “There’s moonlight.” “I only have one contact lens in,” Carly says. Will stands on the bed and lifts the painting of the garden off its picture hook. How can a painting of some flowers be so heavy? He leans it against the bed and hangs up the painting from the car. Iceberg, zombie, a bunch of trees. Some obscured and unknowable thing. How are you supposed to tell what it is? It makes him want to die, sometimes. “There you go,” he says. “It’s yours.” “It’s beautiful,” Carly says. Will thinks maybe she’s crying again. She says, “Will? Will you just lie down with me? For a little while?” Sometimes Soap has this dream. He isn’t sure whether it’s a prison dream or a dream about art or a dream about zombies. Maybe it isn’t about any of those things. He dreams that he’s in a dark room. Sometimes it’s an enormous room, very long and narrow. Sometimes there are people in it, leaning silently up against the walls. He can only figure out if there are people or how big the room is when he stretches out his arms and walks forward. He has no idea what they’re doing in the room with him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do, either. Sometimes it’s a very small room. It’s dark. It’s dark. “Hey, kid. Hey, Leo. Wake up, Leo. We gotta go.” Soap is lying on the floor beside the bed, holding up the dust ruffle. He has to whisper. Carly is asleep on the too-big bed, under the covers. Leo uncurls. He wriggles forward, towards Will. Then he wiggles back again, away from Will. He’s maybe six or seven years old. “Who are you?” Leo says. “Where’s Carly?” “Carly sent me to get you, Leo,” Soap says. “You have to be very, very quiet and do exactly what I say. There are zombies in the house. There are brain-eating zombies in the house. We have to get to a safe place. We have to go get Carly. She needs us.” Leo stretches out his hand. Soap takes it and pulls him out from under the bed. He picks Leo up. Leo holds on to Will tightly. He doesn’t weigh a lot, but he’s so warm. Little kids have fast metabolisms. “The zombies are chasing Carly?” Leo says. “That’s right,” Soap says. “We have to go save her.” “Can I bring my robot?” Leo says. “I’ve already put your robot in the car,” Will says. “And your dinosaur T-shirt and your basketball.” “Are you Wolverine?” Leo says. “That’s right,” Wolverine says. “I’m Wolverine. Let’s get out of here.” Leo says, “Can I see your claws?” “Not now,” Wolverine says. “I have to go to the bathroom before we go,” Leo says. “Okay,” Wolverine says. “That’s a great idea. I’m proud of you for telling me that.” Some things that you could try with zombies, but which won’t work: Panic. Don’t panic. Remain calm. Call the police. Take them out to dinner. Get them drunk. Ask them to come back later. Ignore them. Take them home. Tell them jokes. Play board games with them. Tell them you love them. Rescue them. Wolverine and Leo have a backpack. They put a box of Cheerios and some bananas and Leo and Carly’s parents’ gun and a Game Boy and some batteries and a Ziploc bag full of twenty-dollar bills from the closet in the master bedroom in the backpack. There’s a late-night horror movie on TV, but no one is there to watch it. The girl in the dress on the lawn is gone. If there’s someone in the pool, they’re keeping quiet. Wolverine and Leo get in Wolverine’s car and drive away. Carly is dreaming that she’s the President of the United States of America. She’s living in the White House—it turns out that the White House is built out of ice. It’s more like the Whitish Greenish Bluish House. Everybody wears big fur coats and when President Carly gives presidential addresses, she can see her breath. All her words hanging there. She’s hanging out with rock stars and Nobel Prize winners. It’s a wonderful dream. Carly’s going to save the world. Everyone loves her, even her parents. Her parents are so proud of her. When she wakes up, the first thing she sees—before she sees all the other things that are missing besides the oil painting of the woods that nobody lives in, nobody painted, and nobody stole—is the empty space on the wall in the bedroom above her parents’ bed. [End] http://www.johnjosephadams.com/the-living-dead/free-stories-excerpts/some-zombie-contingency-plans-by-kelly-link/ SOME ZOMBIE CONTINGENCY PLANS BY KELLY LINK Kelly Link is the author of many wonderful short stories, which have been collected in two volumes—Stranger Things Happen and Magic for Beginners—with a third, Pretty Monsters, due out shortly. Her short fiction has appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Realms of Fantasy, Asimov’s Science Fiction, Conjunctions, and in anthologies such as McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales, The Dark, The Faery Reel, and Best American Short Stories. With her husband, Gavin J. Grant, Link runs Small Beer Press and edits the zine Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet. Grant and Link also co-edit (with Ellen Datlow) The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror annual. Her fiction has earned her an NEA Literature Fellowship and won a variety of awards, including the Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy, Stoker, Tiptree, and Locus awards. “s” first appeared in Link’s collection, Magic for Beginners (which, incidentally, also includes another great zombie story called “The Hortlak”). As this story illustrates, a zombie contingency plan is an important thing to have, so before we progress any further in this anthology, you should have a look at this tale so that you can stop and consider a plan of your own. In fact, you may want to think about that now; although this book is a rather weighty tome it probably wouldn’t make a very effective weapon against the living dead. THE LIVING DEAD #KellyLink #Writers #ShortStoriesByKellyLink #AmericanWrites #ShortStories

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/some-zombie-contingency-plan

[mark-zone]

liberal feminism is the worst because it’s so individualistic and there’s no intersectionality what so ever. like no you’re not an intersectional feminist (why is this even a term this should be just a requirement for feminism in the first place) if you don’t have any class analysis whatsoever in your “feminism”. to me if you’re a capitalist feminist ur not a feminist in the first place. it’s also not a coincidence that white celebrities co-opt this shit so much like if some bourgeoisie women are for this type of “feminism” then clearly it isn’t radical at all. liberal feminism is literally only for white western women. this type of feminism never considers the global south and never uplifts poc feminists. like the faces of liberal feminism are all white women and it’s not a coincidence. if you’re pro-capitalism than you’re clearly gonna be racist too. like y’all claim to be for poor women/non-men but support capitalism or say you’re “anti-capitalist” but have no replacement for it. this is also the same problem i have with rad fems with their vague anti-capitalism. liberal feminism will also never criticize anything that gives men a boner. all in the name of “sexual liberation”. like how are you liberated if your sex life involves entirely around men and benefits men? all this because of this toxic western individualism that’s all about “empowerment” and “what feels good for you”. it’s all hogwash. also no self-analysis either. like why does it feel good when it happens to appeal to the male gaze? like that’s not a coincidence. lib fems will never critique plastic surgery or the cosmetic industry in the name of choice feminism. like those industries aren’t totally rooted in misogyny and making women feel insecure. choice feminism is another cancer that liberal feminism falls victim to. feminism isn’t about “letting women do whatever they want”. it’s about women’s liberation from the patriarchy. obviously there’s another side of the coin of choice feminism where i’ve seen feminists bash women for wearing makeup or getting ps. that’s not okay either. just think about why you are doing these things. what is your intention and do some soul searching and find out why you really are doing these things that appeal to the male gaze. ik wearing makeup is an art form but it can also be due to insecurity caused by the patriarchy. and ps is almost always done from a place of insecurity(not talking about trans affirming surgeries but like regular ps). feminism isn’t about choice when your choices 1. affect other women and 2. aren’t in a vacuum and are influenced by the patriarchy. such a dumb individualistic take. my last critique of liberal feminism is the fact that it’s reform based like how tf do you “reform” the patriarchy. we need to abolish these systems of oppression not reform them. we do not need women war criminals or cops. we need NO cops or war criminals. same with “girl bosses” like we need no rich CEOs in the first place. keeping capitalism and patriarchy and putting women in charge is not the solution. like yass now women are bombing the global south. this is literally how you stupid liberals sound. and electoralism is not going to cause women to be liberated either. like voting biden in didn’t do shit for women. we are about to loose our right to an abortion and it’s under his presidency. so no libs “voting blue no matter who” isn’t fixing this country it’s literally making it worse. please abandon liberalism and become a socialist if you actually care about women!!!

i don’t like how many “feminists” online will call you a swerf if you even criticize sex work. being against a misogynistic industry doesn’t mean we hate sex workers. swerfs are rad fems who want to criminalize sw. i am a marxist feminist who wants to decriminalize sex work but ultimately abolish it. i am not a swerf. there are definitely times when anti sw feminists hate on swers and put blame on them and not the industry. i have done that before and i definitely regret that. but i now do support swers and agree they should be respected but i don’t support the industry and NO feminist should either. and the funny thing is 90% of these people calling us swerfs are lib fems and liberal feminists have consistently helped pass legislation that harms swers. liberal feminism honestly requires no critical thought whatsoever just vibes. i hate how it’s the most popular form of feminism in the west.

[jakganim]

tagged by @astrofireworks to do this thing. gonna do it now.

gonna tag @jinwoostro @binnieheart @plastic--hearts @lee-dongminhyuk @dae-hwee 5 people bcos i don’t even have 25 friends

last:

drink: almond milk (from eating cereal)

phone call: it was my boss’ younger son. i know it sounds weird but it’s actually not that weird LOL

text message: ‘morning. come by pick up your tips. i’m covering them today only cause they went to watch jacky cheung concert’ LOL my ex-manager who is supposed to be gone but i guess came back for a day to help out my boss.

song you listened to: love scenario - ikon

time you cried: couple weeks ago i think

have you ever:

dated someone twice: yes. #ragrets

been cheated on: yes, it was stupid. he was stupid. we were all stupid.

kissed someone and regretted it: nah

lost someone special: yes

been depressed: yes

been drunk and thrown up: nah, and i don’t plan on it either

in the past year have you:

made a new friend: yeeeeee many new friends :’)

fallen out of love: no love to fall out of LOL

laughed until you cried: absolutely

met someone who changed you: yes

found out who your true friends are: not really? at least not in the sense that i just found out this past year. like i’ve known for a longass time. but also i’ve made a few new friends who i would love to keep in my life

found out someone was talking about you: maybe?? i can’t remember lmfao

general:

how many people on tumblr do you know in real life?: my good buddies @astrofireworks and @plastic--hearts and i think that’s it, if you only count people i’ve met in person after meeting on tumblr.

do you have any pets?: a doge :’) her name is brody

do you want to change your name?: funny you should ask that, i already went ahead and did it. i mean, i started it. it’s a fucking long and expensive process.

what time did you wake up this morning: did you mean afternoon?

what were you doing last night: probably reading in bed

name something you cannot wait for: lunar new year & my birthday so i can get some fucking money. i’m a brokeass hoe.

have you ever talked to a person named tom?: yes lmao he’s literally the nicest, chillest guy i know. literally.

what’s getting on your nerves right now: the fact that i’m still fucking awake, wtf r u doin jordan

blood type: probably some type of o. i’ve never gotten it checked. smh i should though. i kinda wanna know what’s going on in my body ya know lmao

nickname: jojo, gowanus (only my brother calls me that, don’t ask)

relationship status: single as heckity heck where my cute single people at let’s go this hoe need someone to cuddle

zodiac sign: year of the boar, born on dat aquarius/pisces cusp. i just tell people i’m a pisces tho.

pronouns: they/them, but anything else is also fine by me tbh. i have my fem days and i have my masc days. whatever flows for y’all, i don’t really care either way.

favorite show: idk, i’ve watched so many in my life i can barely think rn

college: lol you wanna know which college i go to or if i’m in it? i’m graduating this sem (finally.. after 5... long..yrs...) from baruch.

hair color: idek what to call this color. it faded into an amber?? kind of??? like a dark blonde, light brown, idfk

do you have a crush on someone: no, and def not on anyone i know irl, but damn there are some people’s faces i’d rly like to sit on and they’re all fucking famous so y’all know i ain’t gonna.

what do you like about yourself: my resilience.

firsts:

first surgery: does getting my wisdom teeth removed count? cos i think i was just outta high school at that time.

first piercing: oh boy i was like 5 or something and my mom took me :’)) first piercing on my own is much much later. when i was like 17 or something. and then it all went downhill and i got like 6 more. and now i want to get my nipples pierced so will it ever really end?

first sport you joined: swim team

first vacation: bitch how am i supposed to remember this shit?? my parents took me to germany when i was like 2 lmao

first pair of sneakers: ??? BITCH HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER THIS SHIT?

right now:

eating: nothing, i should be sleeping

drinking: “   “

i’m about to: go the fuck to sleep hopefully

listening to: the sound of my brother’s shower going

want kids: right now? da fuck u think i am

get married: "   “

career: this hoe is graduating soon and i still wanna do event production, like organizing and carrying out concert tours and shit like that. i ain’t about to get that management of musical enterprises degree for nothing

which is better:

lips or eyes: eyes as heck

hugs or kisses: mmm... that’s difficult. i’m gonna go with hugs.

shorter or taller: technically i like similar height, but shorter i guess.

older or younger: don’t really care usually, but these days, younger.

romantic or spontaneous: why can’t we just live balanced lives

sensitive or loud: “   “

hookup or relationship: relationship, ya boi has anxieties about physical intimacy (i know, i know, but that doesn’t mean i can’t be horny af ok) and you want me to do hook ups? nah fam.

troublemaker or hesitant: WHY CAN’T WE JUST LIVE BALANCED LIVES also hesitant

have you ever:

kissed a stranger: nah

drank hard liquor: hard not to when you used to bartend lmfao

lost contacts/glasses: nope

sex on first date: might i refer you to the above section bcos nO

broken someone’s heart: so many times. i must be getting punished for it.

been arrested: no and let’s keep it that way pls thank

turned someone down: yes

fallen for a friend: yes

do you believe:

in yourself: yes

miracles: yes

love at first sight: not really? i believe in wow-i’m-attracted-that’s-a-beautiful-human-being at first sight tho

[kyoupann]

hiya! so did you find out anything about the cutiebutt's plastic surgery thingy?

I am so sorry it took me almost a year but here I am with the facts! (not really facts but you get the idea) this is somewhat long so it’s going to be after the cut

Alright, so around a year ago (actually, January this year) Cutiebutt talked about a small ‘plastic surgery’ or that’s how we all got the idea I guess because it’s not actually a surgery and definitely not plastic. The direct translation would be ‘small face correction’ and I just did some mild digging here and there. The point of the procedure is to make the face look smaller (and I think rounded) because that’s considered cute and attractive in women ? ? ?

TLDWR: It’s not a surgery. It’s a lymphatic massage.

What happened  with his entry in January, I think, is that I read it without context. He just said he got it and it was oki. So we needed context. I went back on his blog to the first post he made with Dr. Naruse (his therapist)

I’m not going to quote everything he said in his entries because bc they are long, but he sounded excited. My own comments will be in brackets and italic

小顔美容矯正 -ルポルテ- 2016/9/26 18:00 Small Face Corretction -Reporter-

 “I went to the salon -Reporter-!It’s been around a year since the last time I wentHey, just as living humans, our minds and bodies will deteriorate (deep) [not really the translation but…]So, everyday the bones of our faces bend, and that might cause the face to easily swell up [Apparently the medical term would be edema?]

“Please look carefully at my chin [I honestly see no difference…]it looks so soft and sharp, rightt?” [not really soft but like swish…. whoosh, you get it?]and the rest is just him being excited about his next appointment.

明日チケ発で昨日は小顔矯正で  2016/10/21 22:11

“Thank you for your hard work todayActually, yesterday I got my hair cut just little a bit and got a face correction too ٩( ‘ω’ )و .[I can’t even afford going to the dentist…]

No makeup! [ #natural #wokeuplikethis]This time the correction was done with oil too! Naruse-san said that the oil will enter quickly into the skin because it’s dry skin [ checked. dry skin.]Girls, I really want you all to go and try it!  [Ok. this has the cutiebutt-seal-of-approval, y’all know what I’ll be up to when I go to Japan]

KOGAO KYO-SEI 2017/1/23 14:52Small Face Correction [a.k.a the post that made us worry and think he was getting botox or some shit like that]

(…)Because there is an event /coming/,today, I made an appointment for a surgery [correction]

Yeah, that’s right. ‘Kogao kyo-sei’

This time too, Naruse-san did the correction.I thought “the gap  of my eyelids is different” [god spare me, I definitely don’t understand this. long word I don’t know]But I got it fixed promptly!＼(^^)／I just arrived at the station, so this is it. ♡

こがおきょうせい 2017/12/6 18:45Small Face Correction

Good evening [actually night but you english folks don’t have good night bye]After doing stuff at the studioI went to get a face correction after a long time(Because) It helps the flow and [stop the] clogging of the lymph and of course makes the face smaller,I’m getting my face done [not really sure abut this but like, I guess this means he’d rather have his face done than all plumpy/unhealthy]After getting a massage first from your neck, nape, until your back, they massage your face with oil while it’s being prepared [shit son that sounds great!!]I’ts perfect for this dry season!Right now, I’m walking back home but,It’s not dry-ish I wasn’t even aware of it!Also, it smells nice…

I had my distorted face and mind properly fixed🤗 [bitch, he’s beeng using ���distorted’ the whole time I’m laughing my fucking ass off what the hell dude your face’s fine]For Naruse-san, who seems to like cooking, a way of letting out stress apparently is “ to finely chop and shred (veggies)”Being someone who can’t cook at all, I couldn’t relate to this [totally unnecessary but I found this funny. sue me]

[and then he’s like it’s great to see the results instantly after getting the treatmet, holy shit! I still can’t see the fucking difference but I guess there’s some I guess!!!! I’m blind af!!]

And that’s it. That’s all that matters.

Cutiebutt was just getting nice face massages and recommending the shit out of Naruse-san. Man, what I would give for cuttiebut to recommend me to people!! what a nice customer he is :’( gives me life!

By the way, to understand the whole thing, I actually had to do my own research on what the lymph is and Holy shit cutiebutt has taught me more about the human body  than my whole high school biology classes.

So if you’re interested you can check these links:

Lymphatic drainage detox massage

Lymphatic drainage massage for faces

Lymphatic drainage massage therapy

Lymphatic drainage therapy technique

Side effects of lymphatic massage

My ass was worried about this lil’dude fucking his face up but apparently he knows what he’s doing so I’m fine (:

[ctrl-shift-esc]

Home Surgery

House renovations not only feel like a bomb went off in your home but a bomb went off in your head too. It’s like the Hunger Games in a relationship. Good luck, may the strongest couple win… 

Hello fam,

long time no talk (unless you’ve been following along on the ol’insta stories).
Even then, I haven’t been keeping up as often as I used to (Sorry bout it?). So let me bring you up to date on everything and all that is Veronica & her shenanigans…

We moved into our home last April which is now, 7 months ago! We’re still knee deep in renovations. Surprised? I’m not! Who am I kidding…yes I am… I mean I was hoping we would’ve been done by now (epic wishful thinking on my part). Things have moved slowly since April.

It’s to be expected I suppose, I hadn’t really spent any consecutive time at home before June. Once I got back, I was exhausted and didn’t feel like taking on any huge projects. I’d worked full time on set for over 10 months followed by months on end of travelling. I was craving some stand-still time. I wanted to enjoy my summer and not be a slave to home renovations. In lieu of my laziness we chipped away at projects only on weekends. At first, my boyfriend was the one trying to kick me in the ass to buckle down and get the work done. Fast forward 4 months later – here I am, getting impatient so I’m doing the kicking of the ass…

Going into this, I kept saying that I’d be fine gutting a place to its bones – that I’d done this kind of thing before and the mess didn’t scare me. Which is fact, but what I’d ignored was my need to have a home – a sanctuary – a safe haven. I didn’t realize a gutted house meant a gutted sanctuary. Going into this, I also kept saying ; I need a place to call home. So I’m not sure what I was expecting… maybe I expected things to magically get done on their own, or somehow still have a livable space in the midst of dust and chaos?! How could I’ve missed this? I am not sure…

Everything happened so fast, we’d been casually house hunting for a few months when we discovered what would be our future home. We didn’t think too much of it until the idea of owning it slowly crept in. In fact, at first the house gave me a weird vibe. Something didn’t flow but I was determined to find out what… We agreed to go for a second viewing, at this point we were already talking about our demolition plans. Next thing you know; we put in an offer, we negotiated and closed — It’s ours!

We knew right away we wanted to update the two upstairs bathrooms (they haven’t been touched since the 70′s). Painting was a non-negotiable. We also played with the idea of blowing out the entrance wall to open the space up. Also, the mudroom slash laundry room could use a face-lift. The master bedroom lacked closet space and bathroom space. Needless to say, we had to get creative with the designs to maximize every inch of this place and I’d be lying if I said we had it all figured out. You get the point; the list of projects is never ending.

We tackled the main living areas first. While I was away my boyfriend started by removing the popcorn ceiling in the main living room. This was our first setback. It took weeks to properly remove it all, then, weeks to properly sand & paint. Soon after we decided to demolish the entrance wall (best decision ever). Later we painted the whole main floor… Never underestimate how much painting can do to a space – also, never underestimate how long painting with a roller can take…

Now that we were knee deep in our reno’s, we decided to make our lives even harder by redoing the floors in all main living spaces; main living room, kitchen and TV room. 

The current floor is acacia hardwood flooring. A color that is now outdated, with plank sizes that are also outdated. The lower TV room is covered in a light beige carpet but also has a backyard access. Oh & the hardwood? Scratched to shit. There isn’t one ounce of flooring that isn’t damaged. So here were my thoughts; Why have carpet in a room where you’d be accessing the outside from? If our floors are already damaged & outdated how would that affect us in the long run, for resale value? So first, I tried to match the TV room floor to the acacia wood… Once we started digging to find a matching floor we quickly realized we were most likely never going to be able to match it. Like a salesman once told me “you’re chasing a leprechaun”. Cool cool cool cool…So cool. It would never be a perfect match, in other words — it would be noticeably different. Uh, No. I’m not okay with that. There’s nothing more frustrating and disorienting than walking into a home that lacks cohesiveness. We toyed with the idea of sanding and restaining, until we found out it would cost more than replacing the whole floor.

Thanks to my Design firm, I’ve got access to flooring I otherwise wouldn’t have found on my own. I was suggested an alternative type of flooring that is in theory a Vinyl plank, but in reality, is its own type called SPC flooring (stone plastic composite). It looks and feels like wood. It has no expansion or contraction since its made of stone & plastic. It’s waterproof and highly scratch resistant. This sounds like the perfect floor for a home that would resell to a young family with tons of kids and dogs that may ruin a beautiful hardwood. Want proof? come over and look at ours.

The tricky thing about this flooring is that the planks are quite thin. It offers little to no flexibility, so your subfloor needs to be leveled near perfect to prevent any cracking… In a high-rise or newer house this is easier to accomplish. In a 70′s home where the foundation can and most probably is uneven, not so much. Our challenge was to find the right installer who knew this floor, who’s worked with it before and who understands the leveling specs. We interviewed 3 or 4 installers, one of which was convinced he could not only match our existing floor (ya! right!) but could also sand and restain it a different color. Which fyi, I’d been repeatedly told would be close to impossible to do with acacia…?!… A risk I wasn’t necessarily willing to take. Especially if it’d cost more than installing a brand new – scratch resistant – waterproof flooring! The other installers came in really confident about having worked with the floor before until I started asking questions… Slowly they started hesitating & pulled back from wanting to level our floor. I lost interest in hiring them 1- I couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of their mouths and 2- if there was any chance that they were talking themselves up only to make a quick buck, when in reality they know jack squat about this floor & risk damaging it – That’s gonna be a hard no from me… At this point I was losing interest in the whole ordeal. Let’s keep our damaged floors and move on! Losing hope over here! Just let me buy a couch already!

Let’s back up for a second… All the while this is happening, keep in mind, our house is not furnished. Decorations (the ones we have) are put away. Walls are bare, clothes aren’t put away. It’s a total dissaray. Well maybe dissaray isn’t the right word, but it’s a tiny shit show & it’s getting old.

We couldn’t do anything else until the floor situation was dealt with. Finishing the second coat of paint is now on hold, since installing the floors might damage the walls, we might have to repaint everything anyway. You wouldn’t catch me repainting 1200 sq ft with rollers A THIRD TIME! No way Jose.

Since everything else was on hold. I wanted to start the master bedroom project right away instead of waiting until spring like we’d originally planned. Let’s at least get one room over with, my gosh! So we decided to take the closet project head on and not look back. Our plan was to finish it the weekend we started. Wrong! say hello to our second setback. We are now 3 weeks later and we’re still working on the bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, we got 75% done on that weekend, but we encountered technical difficulties that have lingered since then, including the purge of my closet and organizing it all… this is a project in itself. One that may or may not take just as long as painting a whole house by hand��

The room is essentially done, I’m hoping we can officially wipe our hands clean from the renovations of this bedroom by this weekend and get started on the decorations! 

They say you find what you’re looking for when you stop looking — once we stopped looking for floor installers, we finally got a hold of the supplier who’d recommended someone they’d worked with before. Hallelujah! He was easy to communicate with & he agreed to come over that weekend to give us an estimate. I tried not to get my hopes up, for all I knew we may have invited an overrated installer into our house just to tease ourselves…

Once we met, it was clear we all got along great. He’s clearly worked with the floor before and I knew this because he answered questions I didn’t even get a chance to ask. He knew the specs and explained the process without being dodgy. That’s our guy, I don’t care how much he costs hire the guy! We all know my boyfriend put a stop to that real quick — we stick to the budget, he said. So here I was, crossing my fingers to death. He sent us his estimate the next day and it was within our budget!

YUUSSSSS!!! We finally found our guy, This is so exciting! We have a bit of prep work to do before they come to install, but for the first time in months it feels like the work we’re doing is going somewhere! Floors will be installed by the first week of December!

The best news of all; phase 1 is almost complete! That’s right, we decided to do our renovations in phases. Because we need a break y’all! We will hibernate through winter and get back to it in spring…We will focus on the fun stuff over the winter, like beautifying our home. The rest of the renovations like the mudroom and bathrooms can thankfully be quarantined so we don’t have to look or live in a hot mess for months on end! Home stretch folks! One more month and we can relax for a while.

We have a few fun trips planned over the holidays. We booked a mini getaway in a cabin on Galiano Island, at Bodega Cove, at the end of December (board games for days!). Saying we’re excited is an understatement. We will be hosting a House warming holiday cocktail party right before new years, then, we will head to Victoria to ring in the new year in style! We’ve got a good few months ahead & I’m damn well looking forward to it!

We shed blood, sweat & tears over the last 7 months. I’m not lying when I say it’s been a process, (now that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel) I can finally start to appreciate the journey! 

I’ll keep you posted on all the progress, dontcha worry!

Notes to remember from a fellow renovator to you:

* If you’re doing major renovations or are thinking of renovating - try to do it before you move in. Renovations are stressful enough as it is, there’s no need to add stress by living in the mess. So if you can avoid it, I recommend it.

* Renovating can and most probably will stress you out – healthy lifestyle habits like eating properly, exercising and proper sleep patterns will do wonders. Don’t give up on yourself.

* Try to remember that it’s temporary and keep in mind things will get worse before they get better (yes you read that right... It’s something I somehow didn’t realize). It’s only part of the process. Keep your eye on the prize! If you’re having trouble visualizing it with the walls gutted, create a vision board and put it up in a space where you can see it clearly and daily.

* If things get too intense, walk away from it and go do something that will reward you emotionally. Self-Care is knowing when to walk away. 

* When taking on a renovation project as a couple, it’s an added pressure to the relationship. Relationships are already a lot of work as it is; worrying about work - day to day responsibilities - and having to take care of your family life (if you have kids). Adding renovations to the mix can make you feel overwhelmed. Your schedules will be overflowing with To Do lists – but remember that romance also needs to be a priority. Date nights & relationship time needs to be allocated. Set aside some time to focus on watering the relationship. You’ll need it. Don’t let the To Do lists come between you two. The lists will always be there, time together is precious.

* most of all – try and have fun! (taking my own advice on this one!)

Until then Ctrl+Shift+ ESCAPE but Stay tuned for a closet reveal :)

[gaytrashgoblin]

BAAABYYYYYYYYY GAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!! please do all the evens you haven't done bc i'm lazy :)

Well, it seems y’all want me to answer the rest of them, so here ya go!

2. Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why- Good. Pone sex is great when you’re good with words ;)

4. Something that never fails to make you horny- my s/o telling me they want me.

6. The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when- Haven’t had any yet. They’ve all been pretty smoothe so far.

8. What is the best way to sexually bind someone: Handcuffs, Rope, or Other [if other please explain]- I wouldn’t use rope or handcuffs because rope chaffes/ gives roe burn and handcuffs are metal so they dig into the skin too easily. Something made of fabric is the best. A scarf/bandada etc.

10. Top or bottom? I’m a switch. Though in my current relationship I’m the top :)

12. Is one orgasm enough? Are multiple orgasms necessary?Depends, I suppose? Not sure.

16. Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you- Don’t have an answer for that one.

18. Is it ever okay to not use a condom? That’s a tough question. Being safe is always your priority, but, yes, their are situations where I think it would be okay to not use one (when not trying to become pregnant).

20. A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience- Not really into mixing food into that.

22. One sexual thing you would never do- Shit isn’t something I would ever touch. Under no circumstances ever.

24. Three spots that drive you insane- My neck and my thighs. Other than those not sure.

26. Do you like it when your sexual partner moans? Doesn’t everybody?

28. How much fapping is too much fapping? When you do it enough that people catch you more than once. If you get caught more than once, you need to stop. Or seek rehab. Or something.

30. Bald, landing strip, Jumanji- Personally landing strip. For others it’s up to them. Whatever they’re comfortable with is fine with me.

32. Fill in the blank: “If they ____________, we are fuckin”- If they were here, we’d be fuckin.

34. Favorite foreplay activities- Hehe, I’m a huge tease :3 I’m very good at dirty talk, contrary to what my everyday speaking skills would lend you to think.

36. What do you wear to bed- my pajamas. Which is usually a t-shirt and some shorts. Or just a hoodie and shorts.

38. Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?I have some underwear selfies. Other than that no.

40. Have/would you ever have sex outside?Have not. Discussed this before but,,, bugs/sand in ya cooch??? Nty

42. What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?Nothing!!! Never used an object.

44. Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?Haven’t. Don’t see why I wouldn’t though.

46. What is something nonsexual that makes you horny? My gf complaining/whining

48. Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? why/why not?Why tf would I watch het porn? Theyre literally all over everything else. Let the gays have something, will ya

50. Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?Nope.

52. Do you have stretch marks? (How do you feel about them? Has anyone ever had a problem with them?) Most people have them, as I do. And no one that has been privy to that has cared.

54. How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?*insert okay hand emoji here*

56. Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter?My gut reaction was to say anything since it’s not my thing, but anything spicy would be a definite no, wouldn’t it? Just sounds painful.

58. Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)I do not.

60. Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery? Most likely. I can’t really think of a situation where them suggesting that could be seen as anything other than negative. Only scenario where it would be okay is if it the surgery was my idea and they were supporting my choices.

62.Do you watch porn? Sometimes, sure.

64. Have you ever been called a freak? Why? Yep. And the answer would be because I am the absolute epitome of “lady in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

66. Would you switch phones with your significant other for a day? Uh, no, she has an android -_-

68. Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?No. I’m not an asshole; I’m not about to tell someone what to do with their own body. And like I said before, I don’t really care.

74. If you were a stripper, what would your name be? Ms. Tie-Die. My costumes would be more masculanized before I stripped, hence the tie, and I’d always be wearing black with dark makeup.

76. How would you react if you found out your parents had sex in your bed?I don’t ever have to think about that since my parental side is no longer in my life *sing songy voice, please*

78. If you had a penis/vagina for a day, what are five things you would do?Uh, pee standing up? Pee outside??? PEE EVERYWHERE

[benditlikebedford]

Shattering || Adam Hann

A/N: I think this is my first Adam Hann fic I’ve published. Poor Hann. He deserves better. This is super angsty and I hate myself for putting y’all through this. Anyway. Y’all better give this some love because I poured my heart into this.

first time i’ve had to do this but i think it’s important I do

TW: pregnancy, blood, injury, death

It had rained that day.

 It poured rain the entire day. We woke up at 11:30, the sky outside our window so dark we thought it was still night although it was nearly noon. It had a late start, but we went by our day as usual thereafter.

Having slept through breakfast, Adam made a brunch for us, letting me rest. Even if I had slept nearly 12 hours that night, I was having the hardest time waking up in the morning and Adam had been so concerned through it all. I told him it was nothing, but even nothing was always something with Adam.

After we ate, Adam mentioned he needed to go to the grocery store. He brought it up casually, a way of asking me to go with him without actually having to ask me to. I knew Adam wouldn’t mind going alone, and I knew he only asked for me to go along so we could spend time together. I knew if he left me home alone I’d fall asleep again, a mistake that would keep me up all night unable to sleep when it actually mattered.

The rain was still pouring as we left for the store. Adam, a gentleman as always, dropping me off at the front of the store while he went to park the car. I stood under the awning, laughing as I saw his tall figure running through the parking lot, holding an umbrella with one hand and my large collection of reusable shopping bags with the other.

While we were inside, the storm only got worse, the sound of the rain amplified against the roof of the store. I was starting to get nervous, not liking the idea of being stuck there instead of at home. Adam picked up on this, softly suggesting we split up to get the rest of the items on our list faster. While Adam went to find ice cream for us to share, I went to the pharmacy section to grab more shampoo. Adam always made fun of me, claimed I used more than my share of it, but I always reminded him that with his thin, short hair he couldn’t understand.

The small box caught my eye. It hadn’t been the first time I bought one, but I hadn’t bought one since I started dating Adam. Adam and I were careful, and I only had the slightest reason to believe what was inside that box could read positive. But once I got the idea in my head I knew I wouldn’t be able to put it to rest until I knew for certain. I snuck the box into our shopping cart when I rejoined with Adam and hoped he wouldn’t notice. If he did, he never said anything.

It was still raining when we left the store, dashing to our car together this time. All our groceries were soaking wet and once we were home, we had to dry off each item individually before we could put it away.

“What’s this?” Adam asked, holding the box I had tried to keep secret.

I was embarrassed, shaking my head, “It’s nothing- Don’t worry Adam-“

“Do you think you could be pregnant?” he asked, walking over and placing his hand on my shoulder. Everything he did was so caring, it made me feel bad for worrying him.

“No, no, no,” I insisted, “I just wanted to have it to feel better. That’s all.” He could tell I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and with that he dropped the topic completely.

We went about the rest of our rainy day as if that had never happened. We didn’t bring it up again; not while we watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch, not while we cooked dinner together or while we cleaned up afterwards. I’d nearly forgotten about it myself, until I went to take a shower.

Alone in our bathroom, I saw the box sitting out on the counter. Reminded again of that seemingly slim, but still very real possibility, I decided to take the test then and get it over with. Even if Adam hadn’t verbalized it, I knew it was likely he was still worried about it too.

And that was my first life shattering moment.

Sitting on the tile floor, staring at those two lines in shock. I opened my mouth to speak. I couldn’t. My legs were frozen too, and eventually a strangled cry left my throat: “Adam”.

It was quiet, but a second cry soon followed even louder, “Adam!” That one was enough to gain his attention downstairs, and within seconds he ran through the door. He immediately joined me on the floor, hands combing over my hair, rubbing my shoulders, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t okay. Everything was wrong. I handed him the plastic stick, turning my head to bury it in his t-shirt. I didn’t want to see his reaction. The tears immediately starting falling, and I couldn’t stop them.

“Juliana, it’s okay,” he consoled me, but I wouldn’t believe him.

Adam was more than comforting, in the way he ran back to the store, buying two more tests in hopes that the first one was false, but they both only affirmed it. He held me as I cried, not making me speak until I was ready to, until I felt like my body was physically capable of it. We stayed up until it was nearly sunrise, talking about what our options were. Adam kept insisting that he would be more that willing to raise a child together, that he would be excited to even, but I couldn’t see that. Not at the point we both were in with our careers. Adam would want to be home with our baby, not on the road like he would be so soon again. But it was our baby, it was our child. We created something beautiful, even if it was an accident, and we both agreed that we wouldn’t want to see it destroyed.

Adam made me promise to leave my mind open to keeping the baby, but he was able to agree with me that for right now, how we saw it, adoption was our best option.

I spent days staring at myself in the mirror, rubbing my stomach, looking at different angles of my body, wondering if it had already started to change any. Adam, the scholar he always was, spent his nights reading books or websites, the light from his laptop shining on his face while we laid in bed at night. With each week, I grew more terrified and although he tried to hide it, Adam was only growing more excited.

We had sworn we wouldn’t buy any baby things until we knew for sure if we were keeping it. I was the one most adamantly pushing this rule, but I was the one that broke it.

A blanket, of creams and greys, the softest square only a few feet wide. When I saw it, I bawled, the hormones probably, but I clutched the blanket to my chest. I wanted my baby to have it. My baby.

I was on my way home to tell Adam I changed my mind, to tell him that there was no going back now, that this baby was ours and always would be. That I was willing to make all the sacrifices to keep our baby in our lives.

It was raining that day too.

Pouring rain, hitting the windshield of my car faster than the wipers could push it away. Roads of black glass, flooding so thick you couldn’t see where concrete began and water ended. Someone couldn’t stop soon enough, maybe it was me, or maybe it was all of us. An splitting noise as I closed my eyes so tightly. I closed my eyes so tightly, when I opened them, it was no longer raining.

It was no longer raining because I was inside. I was surrounded by blankets, by bright lights. I was only confused for a second because I knew. I knew when I remembered where I was when I first shut my eyes, I knew when I felt a pain in my leg so sharp, so sudden, the only thing I could do was cry “Adam”.

A hand squeezed mine and my eyes focused. This time in relief, “Adam”.

“Juliana,” he said, there was no tears in his eyes, but I could tell that was due to the fact that I when I was asleep, he exhausted them. “I’m here, love, relax.”

“What happened?” I choked out, nervous to hear the answer.

“You were in an accident-“

“I know,” I interrupted, “What happened to me.”

“You shattered your leg, but that’s the worst of it.”

“What about the baby? Did you tell them about the baby?”

Adam swallowed. He didn’t answer. He reached out and handed me something instead.

A blanket. A blanket of cream and grey and dark red. A soft square dried with blood, the few feet shortened by a rip at almost the exact midline.

“They gave this to me when I got here,” he told me, “It saved your life. A stranger used it as a tourniquet.”

“No..” I mumbled, “I bought this. I bought this for our baby.”

I turned away, I didn’t want to see Adam’s reaction. I didn’t want to see his face, filled with hurt, filled with sympathy. Our baby. The first time I’d said that.

“Our baby,” he repeated back, and I only nodded.

“Is he gone?” I asked, and this time it was Adam who only nodded.

And that was my second life shattering moment.

The sequence of events followed similarly. Adam, so comforting. Holding me until I had no more tears left to cry, a hospital bed instead of ours at home.

I was discharged in a wheelchair. Adam, keeping things light, telling how he was excited to take over caring for me, that after an endless sequence of days I’d finally join him back at home. I stared down at the cast on my leg. A cast covering scars, surgery, shards of glass, spots where my bone had broken right through.

“That’s the worst of it.” Adam had said, in reference to my mutilated leg.

My hands rested on my stomach. Just weeks ago I had two hearts beating inside me. Now just one.

And it was shattering.

[ptiasims]

Ayyy a question thingy I was tagged in.

100 Questions No One Asks

I was tagged by my name twin @thedancingsim. <3 

The questions and answers are under the cut because wow lol that’s a lotta questions!

1. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED?

When I had a door, I slept with it closed. Now I have a little doorway that leads into the kitchen, like a bachelor suite so it is open... as there is NO door. But I’m slowly getting used to it. 

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS?

If I stayed at hotels often, I would. The last time I stayed in one, I didn’t take anything, though. 

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

They stay tucked in, I rarely ever sleep with the little flat sheet. I used to when it was hot, because I can’t sleep without something covering me, but now that I live in a little basement suite, it’s always cold so i can use my blanket. 

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE?

I can’t say that I have, no! 

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES?

I tell myself yes so I can justify buying them, but I never do.

Yes, same here. I wish I used them. 

6. DO YOU EVER CUT OUT COUPONS BUT NEVER USE THEM?

I haven’t cut out coupons yet, but I have a feeling I will eventually in the next few months haha. 

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES?

Bees because I think I would have a chance of outrunning them or jumping into water.

I’m going to go ahead and agree with this as well. 

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES?

They mostly start sprinkling my nose in the summer, uner the sun. 

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES?

Generally, yes. 

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE?

Racist/homophobic/transphobic/etc. people who are unwilling to listen and understand how absolutely absurd their opinions on those matters are.

Tèa had such a great answer, that I’m going to leave it, because honestly I’m so laid back and in my own world that I rarely let things get to me for very long. 

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK?

Not my steps, but I have a habit of counting any stairs I’m on. Always. 

12. HAVE YOU EVER PEED IN THE WOODS?

Several times. One of my best friends likes to go walking in woods in the middle of the night, which is super great, especially when he purposely tells me about a ghost story just before we go into the woods, and I often end up peeing in the woods because I never go before I leave the house. 

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS?

No.

14. DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERE’S NO MUSIC PLAYING?

There’s always music in my head, but yes I have done this. 

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS?

Nah, I’m a writer, I respect the pens and pencils too much.

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK?

None, I like to be alone recently. 

17. WHAT IS THE SIZE OF YOUR BED?

It’s technically a twin right now, but once I get the second mattress, it will be a king size. It’s a daybed from IKEA. 

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK?

I have been on a Hot Chelle Rae kick lately, so either Tonight Tonight, or Honestly. They are such a great summer band.  

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK?

It’s okay for anyone to wear whatever they want, what do I care? 

21. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS?

Not really! I watch animated Disney and Pixar, but that’s it. 

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?

Paranormal Activity. 

i’m also going to stick with Téa’s answer for this one, because another friend of mine likes to have wine night and watch horror movie night because apparently i’m HILARIOUS to scare the shit out of and this is one of the movies he enjoys making me watch. 

I should get better friends?? 

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME?

Omg I don’t even know, but I’d probably build something over it, too for extra safe keeping. 

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER?

Water or soda. 

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN?

Barbecue sauce 100% 

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

Ugh I don’t even know how to answer this. I love shrimp, Panda Express, tacos.. my mom made this wonderful crab bake and invited me over for dinner last night and it was so good. 

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE?

Zathura, How to train Your Dragon (1&2), Harry Potter, Hunger Games (Except the first one)... honestly I rewatch a lot of movies. 

27. LAST PERSON, YOU KISSED/ KISSED YOU?

I made out with my boyfriend the other night at his friends’ house out on the balcony while he was loaded. Hi Joshua. 

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT?

I was a girl scout, for probabl one season, but I did do a lot of boy scout stuff with my brother and my mom when my brother was in the scouts. 

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE?

UNLIKELY. 

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER?

I wrote something to my mom I want to say two years ago, but I never sent it. 

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR?

No, but I do get a discount for being a student. 

32.EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET?

Two of them. And on the last one, my grandma told my mom that “your daughter needs to slow down!”  AND MY GRANDMA HAS PROBABLY TEN TIMES AS MANY TICKETS AS I DO she has a lead foot!!! 

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS?

Not yet, but I do lock my keys in my car a lot, so let’s not rule it out. 

34. WHATS YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWHICH?

TUNA WITH SPINACH AND CELERY 

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST?

Cereal or like eggs or a smoothie 

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME?

Lately, I’ve been crashing whenever I’m tired so that’s anywhere between 7pm-2am. 

36. ARE YOU LAZY?

Oh yes, absolutely. I’m filling this out rather than adding text to the next Remedy post ha my bad y’all. 

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN?

my mom actually used to make our costumes, like shit she was good. but idk, halloween was never really a big deal to me, but I remember being a witch several times, and i remember asking for this one cloak during halloween solely because i wanted to play dress up with it for the rest of the year, i had no interest in it for halloween. 

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN?

I have no idea?? I googled it and it says dog?? i’ll take it. 

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?

just the one, but i’d love to eventually learn spanish. my name is spanish for aunt, and i can apologize in spanish, so i’m getting there. 

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS?

Not a one. 

43. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS?

EITHER as long as I can build a really big fort with it. that’s all i’ve ever wanted. 

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN?

NO. lol yes, completely bull-headed. 

44. WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN?

I don’t care for either. 

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS?

Nope

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?

For like two seconds, and then I get over it. 

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR?

Only when I’m in the car. 

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

Not so much anymore. 

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR?

Yes... always. 

50. EVER USED A GUN?

I’m originally from the states... it’s basically mandetory to shoot a gun. (It’s not, but I have used a gun, yes). 

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKE BY A PHOTOGRAPHER?

Lol I think it was a family portrait when I was in grade school, so a good ten or so years ago. 

53. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY?

Some are, but some I love. It’s a hit or a miss. 

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL?

Absolutely it is, but I love it. 

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI?

Heck yes! 

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE?

I don’t like cooked fruit. 

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID?

Actress, singer, and writer. So i’m really practical. 

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

As much as I believe in breathing air. 

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING?

All the time

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY?

Nah, but I should. 

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS?

I have fuzzy pig slippers that I adore. I rarely wear them because I want to keep them forever. 

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE?

No, but I’ve been wanting to have one just to make me feel grown up. 

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED?

Big shirt & panties, boxer shorts and a tank top, sometimes something... just depends. 

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT?

Britney Spears! And I got to meet her before the show. She had rened out my mom’s salon a few nights before hand so my mom went home to get me, take me back to work and I followed her around the store and told her DJ I wanted to sing when I grew up. I think I also cartwheeled around the store, but I didn’t even realize that it was her, I don’t thinkg, when I was following her around. 

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART?

Target (I miss it in Canada, RIP) 

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS?

N...either. 

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS?

Cheetos AND Fritos. 

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS?

Neither. 

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN?

No

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS?

Yes, and I wish I still did. 

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING?

Whatever they want, idc as long as they’re happy. 

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE?

Sure can. 

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE?

No. 

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY?

Only all the time. 

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS?

I do not. 

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER?

I do not. 

76. DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE?

I burn candles, does that count? 

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

I have! 

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT?

Ed Sheeran and Mumford and Sons again, and Maroon 5 again, Miley again... I don’t know about anyone else tb. 

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW?

Awolnation with my ex ... NO WAIT, it was the last bit of July Talk which my ex was supposed to take me to, but I went with my friend instead. 

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA?

Hot

81. TEA OR COFFEE?

Tea for sure. 

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES?

Making me choose between two things I love is stressful. BOTH. 

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL?

Yup! I used to take lessons lol 

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE?

Yeah

85. ARE YOU PATIENT?

Most of the time. 

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING?

I like the idea of a band, but probably DJ for a better sound quality. 

87. EVER WON A CONTEST?

Yeah

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY?

No

89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES?

Neither, they’re both gross. 

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET?

I can crochet in my sleep, but I’m just now learning how to knit. 

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE?

My room right now omg it’s so cold. 

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

I’m not sure, tbh. Some days I do, some days I don’t. 

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?

Not even a minute. 

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH?

Aww, his name was Jesse and he was a cutie for sure. 

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY?

Not since I was like 3. Okay... maybe last week. Just kidding. 

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

I do not! But I have lovely niece’s and nephew’s whom I love so much. 

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS?

Only like three, or so. 

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?

Yellow

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RN?

Seger, the pup. 

100. WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT?

Oh man, I’m gonna go ahead and tag anyone who wants to do this! and also @malcolmlandgraab 

oh shit wait, i’m also going to tag @vodkasims for the name twin thing!! 

[souichipresents]

Souichi Presents: Tomie, tOmie, toMie....

Kyahaha! Welcome, welcome back to Souichi Presents! The home of a true madman's task... to one day have reviewed every single Junji Itou story ever made! However... perhaps if you’ve noticed, even leaving aside the holiday hiatus, there’s been an unusual uptick in Non Mr. Itou Reviews. 

Why would this be? Well, I could say that I try to take in new horror as much as possible, to keep refreshed... but if I had to be honest in myself, it’s possible... I might be avoiding something. 

THERE'S JUST SO MANY OF HER. THEM. THESE STORIES. There’s so many of them. But that can’t stop me in my sacred duty because I swore an OATH... well I had a random idea when I was a freshman in college which I picked back up again for absolutely no reason I can recall and I’m sticking to it. 

Of course this is a labor of love, make no mistake. And there’s still a lot to love, as we get to... 

JUNJI ITOU’s, TOMIE: THE BASEMENT

(See part 1, MORITA HOSPITAL, here.)

Alright so if you weren’t here for the last part of this series, here’s a QUICK rundown. 

A girl is in the hospital while her not-boyfriend visits, until oh no! Tomie does that weird thing she does where her only enjoyment in stringing dudes along eems to be tormenting girls about it which isn’t weird at all. Sad hopsital girl is very sad, and also absolutely dying from Vauge Anime Organ Failure. But luckily for her, she’s able to get a transplant! Bad news, it’s a Tomie, signed off for the transplant from the sketchiest man alive claiming to be Tomie’s father. Again. Which is creepy because he is 100% actually the teacher from the very first Tomie story who may have impregnated her, was absolutely dating her, and 1000% killed her. So that’s creepy. 

Then it ended with ‘everyone with a uterus screamed internally during THIS bit’, alternate title ‘Aliens but with Tomie’. Now that we’re all caught up... 

(remember this is one of the very early translations, back when official publishers mirrored the art, so it’s left to right. God forgive us.)

Oh right, so this is early EARLY translation here, so it’s left-to-right again. My favorite part of this is that if theres a RUMOR about this, it indicates two things, really: one is that a patient happened to SEE this, which is just hilariously terrible. You get up, maybe getting some water, see- oh hey they’re operating and hhHOOOPS THATS A TINY HAND BYEEEE. 

Or option two: just some real gossipy nurses. “You would not BELEIVE the shit I put up with... yeah between this and whoever put the plastic wrap over the toilet seat, I’m out. I don’t care if it includes dental.”

...sorry, the heck is this?

Why it’s Fumihito! He’s... totaly unrelated to the story so far, and any future stories! But he’s sure here now. Good for you, Fumihito. 

Sure I make fun, but I’m pretty sure he might actually make it out of this ALIVE. Maybe the secret to surviving Tomie is to lack personality. Well he has one personality trait: checking out creepy things for No Reason. It might not get you very far at a party, but it;s gangbusters for moving a horror plot along. 

Well so much for my recap. This one’s probably more factual. Also can I just say I appreciate how in stride these doctors are taking this? Maybe they got all their ‘NO, THIS CAN’T BE’ out of their systems earlier. 

Well this has to be better then the goldfish bowl of hydrocloric acid the last tomie head was in. But whatever THIS is is... opaque... but not from... this side...?

....Mr. Ito, did you just have worries about drawing the doctors through the water at an angle? Well, god knows I wouldn’t want to. 

Now this is interesting, because it’s really the only go at a scientific explanation for Tomie’s... tomieness. But all he’s *really* saying is, hey, she can regenerate! I don’t think the real secret to this story is that Tomie turns out to be a large pile of planarians. ...though that would be amazing. 

...though it does speak badly for earths survival rate... do you eventualy wind up with a Tomie ‘apocalypse’? Crowds of tomies... gigantic tomies, like terrible lighthouses of adoration? Who knows, maybe every second tomie just kind of wanders into the ocean to keep overpopulation down... but still, you imagine it ends poorly. 

Yes well luckily rules don’t apply to NOSY MALE PROTAGONIST MAN! Able to use his amazing powers to satisfy his own vauge curiosity with a single bound. 

“And why are you in my room exactly?” “Plot contrivance! Need a character to follow to see the story happen, you know.” “...Isn’t that *me*?” “Don’t... don’t worry about it. 

This really highlights the difference in horror as a genre, you know? In most other stories someone being able to miraculously heal from major surgery would be a GOOD thing. Or at least even odds. 

See also: reading mysterious books, talking to strange new people, investigating odd noises. Don’t blame horror protags for doing those things; any other genre going into the magic furniture leads to narnia instead of hell. 

Similarly, only in horror is it possible for cancer to not be the worst outcome.

Now, I do feel the urge to make a joke here about just deciding to irradiate the monster why not, but they do actually have a logical train of thought here. They’re assuming something like cancer is happening; so they’re trying to see if radiation therapy could destroy the cells. 

WHICH is in turn interesting to me, because the “rules” of Tomie aren’t... clear. But they do seem to work. For the record-

Acid works. Fire works but you gotta be REAL thorough. Cutting is the opposite of working, bludgeoning not really much better. Water- laughable. Poison- untried. Concrete- ???? Radiation... well you’ll see in a minute. 

Meanwhile we get more of this. You wanted more of this, right? 

Tadashi sucked. Suuuuucked. This guy... exists. 

This does clarify a little more about her- it sounds like she has kind of a lonely life. ...I’m also going to throw this guy a bone and assume whatever he said in the original japanese might have been more of a “Oh, is that right?” then... that. 

Oh right, the monster. Radiation turns out to just make Tomie go from a kind of head-disaster to “barbie doll left on the stove.” Why? It’s a little late to want a scientific reason why THIS happens, because tomie already endlessly self replicates with no apparent need for outside energy... kind of. 

More then a few times we see her eating things (people) to regenerate from, but theres also times where nothing like thats around. Maybe having outside energy just speeds it up...? Or maybe she’s a nonsense curse monster. 

You know, I really didn’t think I’d like RE7 when the demo was out, but I like a lot of what they wound up doing with it in the main game. 

...And you are....?

Okay. Y’all. My dear friends. I love these comics. I love mr. Ito. I do. But we spend FOUR PAGES on, essentially, “Freddy hears noises behind the door, and briefly sees a walking figure.” I’m hitting the fast forward. 

There she is. The crux of this mystery- this and so many more. A living ghost? An endlessly self replicating memory? The guilt and fixation of a murderer imprinted into a endlessly replicating form? The grief of a murdered (pregnant!) teen girl horrifically cut down by a man?

If nothing else, a strange naked girl, in a fishtank, in a hospital basement he just saw a dude walk out of. What a strange sight. What a genuinely beautiful panel, highlighting a subtle, aberrant moment. 

...well. I mean, from a meta point of view, he took the safest available route, but... you can’t help but be disappointed, right?

Well Tomie has better things to do anyways. People to see. Short haired girls to loom over. 

No seriously, always with the short haired girls. Tomie has a.... type? Is that even what you could call it?

I’m not sure it really is about Tadashi, Tomie. I’m not really sure it is. 

Speaking of which, this is actually really unusual for Tomie. While she tends to generate terrible violence and suffering around her, I can’t really think of any time when she actually directly attacks someone. Usually she would have male ‘lackeys’ that she’d assign or manipulate to kill someone for her. This is an unusually direct motion on her part. 

Hey remember when she had slightly curly hair? We’re in the odd midpoint art wise where her design takes a odd turn. I can never figure out if it’s just a drift, or if it’s closer to how Mr. Ito wanted Tomie to look. 

Anyways it was nice knowing you, Dr. McDoctorson. 

Meanwhile, this is going to get a lot worse, and never get better. Note the interesting framing of the flowers here. I wish I knew if this was made before or after Dying Young. It feels like a very similar story thread, but Dying Young focuses more cleanly on the specific idea of ‘an illness making you beautiful, but at a terrible cost’. While this is... well. Tomie tomie tomie tomie. 

In the meantime, the doctors have been debating if tomie material can be used to cure illnesses (spoiler: hhhhooo boy no), and our main character went to visit John Smithee here. Who... does... this. 

...What the hell is he talking about? Her only personality change is she’s suddenly a little happier, and flirting with him. Also, he’s the one who’s been nonsensical in her grill hitting on her? Is this supposed to be like, ~oh I liked you for how you looked before~. 

I hate that. I hate every half-witted story where some boy is praised for seeing a girls ~natural beauty~. Like the discover of a girl is more important then whatever her plans for how she wants to look and feel are. And while this isn’t exactly because she just straightened her hair and got makeup, he doesn’t actually know that. So it just... grates on me. Endlessly. 

WHY IS THIS DUDE IN THIS STORY. 

Like this is supposed to be GASP TOMIE IS TAKING HER OVER but the problem is I don’t LIKE him, and his reason for turning her down is as shallow as anything Tomie has literaly ever said. 

It’s not sweet! And he has no functional personality. This story is supposed to be about her, but because she’s going through this transformation, it feels like he’s there so we see it from outside her point of view. But he just... sucks. 

Me too, totes-not-Tomie. 

Yeah his investment in how much more docile and quiet she was before really makes me feel the emotional weight of this terrible transformation coming over her. Which I guess is really my problem. 

This horrible thing happening to HER is being framed in how it’s affecting HIM. How HE feels about how she looked and behaved. And I could not care. Less. 

WHY CAN’T WE SEE MORE OF HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT THIS. 

meanwhile, Tomie accidentally saves many, many lives by getting rid of the other half of Kidney-Kaijulet, because these morons were going to inject more people with Tomie. 

Then this happens, and it kind of sucks. Even though it’s ~tomie~ and she’s evil or whatever... it... just kind of sucks. Which I guess is what winds up wearing me down in this series. We’re not short of media where ladies get hit and killed a lot. And I fully recognize there is context for this series as existing in japan that I’m not privy to, and will never actually be able to speak to. 

But to me, what the Tomie series has thats genuinely something different gets overshadowed by the monotony of the violence in it. For how little Mr. Ito work in later years includes outright slasher type violence, Tomie just... keeps goin. 

Also, she keeps dying but Creeper Teacher Dude here keeps being alive still, which also Just Sucks. 

Blink and you’ll miss it, here’s the whole reason any of this happened! It’s... this shithead again. Womp womp. 

Unintentionaly this might be the funniest page Ito has ever made. Poor bearded doctor just. 

WHY ARE YOU CUTTING HER UP? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WI- WHY THE FUCK DO *YOU* HAVE A CAN OF GASOLINE. WHY IS ANY OF THIS HAPPENING. I SHOULD HAVE JUST TAKEN THE JOB IN KURÔZU-CHO. 

Also.... “squeak squeak?” That cannot possibly be the right sound effect. 

...alright this guys a total shitstain in five directions, but this is also pretty funny. He’s basically doing a Loony Toons exit in a dark horror story. 

Don’t listen to that too long by the way, it’s kind of hypnotic. 

And this... this one page makes, to me, the whole rest of the story.... 

The intensity of the reveal. The tight closeups from her face to his, the way she seems contained inside the arc of the fire. The slant of the panels around them- leading to such a sense of unease, and drawing the eye.  

This. This is a beautiful horror moment. 

What a strange moment. Do they leave together? I don’t remember if he comes back again, though I suspect he must. What happens to her....? 

Is she really completely gone?

And that, at last, is the end of BASEMENT. 

This is a really muddled one for me. I feel like theres so MUCH in it I could enjoy, but somehow it both has too many ideas, and feels stuffed with filler. 

I’d loved to see some of these ideas. A hospital researching tomie? A girl being corrupted BY tomie and slowly losing her sense of self...? Those are both amazing ideas that I wish had been their own stories. I wish the girl becoming tomie had kept the lense on HER. On how she felt, on what she was doing. 

I think in a way I find this pair of chapters to be more frustrating then others because... if there weren’t good moments, I could just freely mock it, and maybe even skip past it. But there is a good story in it! There really is. 

It just feels like it’s happening somewhere else, while the ‘camera’ follows this unrelated person. With a level of decompression that... doesn’t work for me. 

I suppose thats a greater problem I have with Tomie. It can just feel like so MUCH, but it almost never gets bad enough i can comfortably abandon it. 

Almost. 

That’s all for this week, folks! Join us next time won’t you? I’m hoping to get to more Ito, and talk about the hauntingly strange short “Madame Tutli Putli”, and possibly talk about the great classic of horror cinema, Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island. And of course, the souichi presents patreon is now on monthly donations, and I’ll be updating it’s milestones soon! Even a dollar or two makes a really big difference. 

And as always, Souichi WILL... return. 

[romancevsreality-blog]

the bachelorette, season fourteen, episode four: becca clearly has made an enemy in her stylist

There are plenty of things to hate about this season, but my actual favorite part is Becca not having any kind of a poker face. Girl cannot find any ability to give a fuck about the guys she’s not clearly into, and it is palatable. I love it.

We’re in Las Vegas, so of course, we’re gonna get a ton of “roll the dice” and “luck” and “lady” and generic Las Vegas terms. I’ve been to Las Vegas enough to know that it is NOT my place. Also, who the fuck is styling Becca and why do they hate her so deeply? A sequin bomber jacket and a grey sweater? Who is she, Karamo Brown?1

The guys are staying in the penthouse at the Aria Hotel, and I hate that I knew that from just looking at it. I also looked to see if Steve Wynn owned the Aria (he doesn’t) because honestly, this show is such garbage I fully expected them to take free money from a sexual harasser.

The guys think this week will bring the inevitable two-on-one, but no, the

DATE CAAAAAARD!!!!!!!!!!

Turns out to be for Colton, and I roll my eyes. Also, they’re immediately leaving the Strip to go to the desert and hang out with some camels. Becca is wearing shorteralls, a white tank top, and a bandana tied around her neck. Antoni Porowski, she is not.2 They’re going on a camel ride, something I didn’t know Las Vegas was noted for. Las Vegas Camels sounds like their basketball team, not an activity. Their camels are not friends and do not want to be near each other, which Colton takes very personally.

Back at the penthouse, David is letting his obsession with Jordan run wild. I hate to use the word obsession, but his need to constantly poke the bear went from cute chicken to angry bird right quick, and Imma need him to take a full step back. He asks Jordan how it felt when he got the last rose and what was going through his mind, and Jordan affirms that rose order means nothing. Jordan’s correct. Meanwhile, my boyfriend Venmo John is just sitting there peacefully in white shorts. The tension is real between the two of them, and clearly, the two-on-one is designed for them.

Becca gets into the hot tub with Colton, because this is a normal thing that people do. I figured out why I don’t trust Colton - HE’S ALWAYS SMILING. HE’S PERMANENTLY SMILING. I don’t like it. But Becca wants to fuuuuuuuck Colton. He barely says two words and she’s like “We’re so into each other, let’s make out, blah blah blah blah blah” and mashes her face against his a bunch of times.

They go to dinner and don’t touch it, of course, and Becca’s wearing a brown sequin dress. I seriously think her stylist is blind. We find out that Colton’s last relationship was over quickly because she broke up with him, and he was in love with her and fell rather quickly. If we’re talking about Aly Raisman, Colton’s actual ex, then... I mean. Aly Raisman has had a hell of a ride these past few years and didn’t need a starfucker telling him he loves her while she’s processing her sexual assault and the coverup that followed. Naw, Colton. I’m not about you.

At the penthouse, there’s a

DATE CAAAAAAAARDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s a group date - Wills, Garrett, Blake, John, Connor (I think?), Leo, Lincoln, Jason, and Chris. The only guys not on the card are David and Jordan, so it’s clear that’s who will be on the two-on-one. I mean, who didn’t see this coming, other than Stevie Wonder?

Colton gets a rose, that’s all I have to say. Literally. They make out on a bus and have to be commanded by a sign to make out.

The guys are in a van on the way to an estate to meet Mr. Las Vegas himself, Wayne Newton.

Wayne Newton looks like he took a picture of Joselyn Wildenstein3 to his plastic surgery with a post-it marked “Goals”. Wayne Newton looks like the crash-test dummy Dwight cuts the face off of on The Office. Wayne Newton is why male plastic surgery should be a deeper endeavor. Wayne Newton probably reached Carson Kressley and then took a real left turn.

He also comes in on a horse and his teeth are so white. But he does have peacocks, a private jet, and honestly, this man really is a legend. Wayne takes them on a tour, and then he introduces his wife, who looks marvelous. He then sings Danke Shoen in her face, something I hate. I hate when people get close to me and sing to me. Do not serenade me in my personal space. I’m much more of a John Cusack with a boombox outside of my bedroom window kinda girl, personally.

Lincoln doesn’t know what “Danke Schoen” means, which is surprising only in that I’m surprised by it. Why am I surprised Lincoln, a flat-earther with a poop and sexual assault problem, doesn’t know something? Lincoln is the fucking worst. I bet Lincoln thinks you’re talking about grass stains on your butt when you say “Gracias”.

The guys have to rewrite “Danke Schoen” to relate to their feelings for Becca, which... okay. I liked this date when it was Katilyn’s season and Amy Schumer before everyone hated her came and roasted the guys for a bit. But Wayne Newton? In 2018? Danke Shoen? In 2018?

Danke Schoen has one place, and that is on a parade float in Chicago in 1986, pretending to come out of Matthew Broderick’s mouth.

David is still antagonizing Jordan about the two-on-one. He’s asking Jordan if he’s going to wear his special underpants or if he’s nervous, and Jordan is focused on his relationship with Becca. It’s a fascinating dynamic, actually. Jordan actually wants to win the two-on-one because it’ll advance his relationship with Becca. David wants to win the two-on-one because he wants to beat Jordan. Stop white knighting, David. Becca can see what a fool Jordan is for herself.

I really don’t want to write about this Wayne Newton nonsense. Becca and Wayne Newton4 go around to the guys, who proceed to sing their terrible lyrics to an unimpressed Wayne Newton. Chris is psyched because he thinks he has a leg up because he was already forced to write a song and sing it to Becca on his last date with her. Frat Fink is on my perma-shitlist. Leo sings to a horse, and I love that. My Boyfriend Wills is wearing a romphim and sings in French. But that’s not all!

Those songs they wrote? They’re going to perform it in front of a live audience in tuxedos. I would quit. Honestly. I would walk THE FUCK out.

Venmo John goes all-in. Honestly, even though I would hate all of this, the ones who went big are the ones who fully committed. Everyone is terrible. It is a nightmare. I don’t know how Becca is sitting there, dealing with it. Frat Fink invokes Arie and gets the crowd riled up. Becca is about it.

At the after-after-after-after-after party, Becca compliments the guys while wearing what I can only describe as a Hooker Barbie dress. WHAT DID SHE DO TO HER STYLIST?

Okay, I’m about to do something I never do: reverse my opinion.

I really think if all that stuff about Garrett’s Instagram likes hadn’t come out before, people would love him. Because he’s actually great, and actually seems to like Becca, and even though last week I was like “Okay, Garrett, but where’s the part where you’re the asshole?” I actually... think... he’s there For The Right Reasons. He doesn’t align with Becca politically, yes - and that’s a casting issue - and yes, his views are trash, but he seems like a nice enough guy.

Sorry, guys. I know. I hate me too. Their time on the date was just so damn cute, I can’t help it.

Back at the penthouse, there’s a...

DAAAAAAATEEEEEE CCCCCCCAAAAAAARRRRRRDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!

For David and Jordan, and it’s ominous as fuck. David says some nonsense about it being a competition but it’s not about winning, because it’s about falling in love. But it’s a competition, David. And Becca is the prize. I smell your misogyny from here.

Meanwhile, Frat Fink is playing it cool on the Time with Becca front. He doesn’t mind that literally every other guy is getting a chance to talk with her because he feels confident in what they have. Frat Fink has no doubts in the mind of his chemistry with Becca, and he’s Definitely a Front Runner. Star of Footloose and other films, Miles Teller, takes Becca outside to talk about Becca was robbed of a genuine moment where someone tells her they’re falling in love with her with Grosse Pointe Jean Blanc last week. But there’s a catch: he’s the one falling in love with Becca! They’re outside for like 35, 40 minutes and then Becca comes inside and tells them all “I hope y’all had a fun time, sorry I didn’t talk to you all!”

Frat Fink is piiiiiisssssssseeeeeed. Blake gets the rose, of course.

Frat Fink immediately goes from confident to unconfident in a millisecond because he thinks Becca should have made time for him. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - my favorite trope on this show is the contestant who thinks it’s the lead’s job to seek them out and not the other way around. It’s a competition show and your time is limited. Instead of trying to get the last word and leave an impression, GET YOUR SHIT IN THE GAME. Frat Fink thinks he’s going home for sure, and all the other guys are trying to talk him off a ledge. Frat Fink thought he was on a better level with the guys than anyone else. He wants to pack his bags and go home, and he’s sure Becca would regret it if he went home.

Somehow I don’t believe that.

It’s time for the two-on-one.

They meet Becca in The Valley of Fire, and I love that the two-on-one always takes place in a god damn expanse in the desert. Jordan calls Becca a snack, which only sounds good when my friend Mondo says it, sorry. They go off-roading with a Jeep, I guess? And that takes them to a bed/canopy/bench thing in the middle of the silent desert.

David is first to take Becca aside, and he’s so happy to be there but he NEEDS to tell Becca that Someone (Jordan) isn’t there for the Right Reasons (Jordan) and that person happens to be Jordan. He talks about the girls he wants to hook up with and his Tinder matches enough to deeply bother David. David thinks that Jordan is settling for Becca, and David doesn’t agree with that. Becca’s triggered because Lauren said that Becca was the “Safe Choice” for Arie. Lauren, what? No. You have the personality of vanilla sour cream5. David’s satisfied with the fact he spent his entire time with Becca talking about Jordan. Becca immediately talks to Jordan about Jordan being interested in other women or admiring other women. Jordan denies everything David said about him, and Becca doesn’t have a reason to trust Jordan. She wants to know Jordan deeper, more than just the funny dumb model we’ve all come to love. Jordan told Becca anything she asks, he’ll be 100 about it, and I honestly believe that because Jordan is too dumb to have a filter.

Jordan talks about how his mom is mentally ill, but his dad loves her and never stopped. I actually... love that? As a mentally ill person, I hope someone can love me despite my illness. Jordan says he can love unconditionally and live free because he’s been through a lot and is proud of what he has and where he’s gotten and it’s actually the first real thing I think he’s ever said on this show.

Jordan immediately runs over to David and David’s sniveling face and voice is unapologetic. Jordan’s greatest power is being him, but David’s greatest power isn’t being him, that’s why he talks about Jordan. Jordan says David took his shit out of context and doesn’t have a sense of humor. Jordan is PISSED and David actually doesn’t have the upper hand here like he thinks.

Becca sits down between the two of them and I love this interaction:

David: “Okay, I’ll kick things off-”

Jordan: “First off, just don’t start ‘kicking things off,”

I cackled.

Jordan is very upset. Becca just wants clarification and is literally like “theeeeeese biiiiiiitches,” fully exasperated. She’s not here for this kind of drama, and just wants to know - did someone say “settling”, or did they not? She’s frustrated because the drama has kept her from getting to know them, and it is PETTY BULLSHIT.

Becca, always:

She storms away, and David admits that yes, this is his perception, and Jordan doesn’t think it could be reality. Becca comes back and basically says David, sayonara, stay in the desert where you belong, and Jordan doesn’t quite get a rose just yet. He still has to go through dinner with Becca.

They leave David alone in the desert and speed away in the Jeep. David is left to decay and basically become Into The Wild, that terrible movie full of abusers.

All the guys aren’t shocked that David’s suitcase is dragged away by a PA.

Becca and Jordan’s date is a little... empty. Jordan asks Becca what her average weekend is like, and Becca talks about her actual plans - going to church, reading, brunch, etc. - and Jordan talks about his skincare routine. I mean, that’s great conversation for me, but it’s not how someone gets to know someone. Jordan wishes he could show Becca his portfolio, and he just talks abut modeling the entire time.

Back at the house, Frat Fink is spiraling. I love the producer who is clearly asking him “So, what do you need from Becca?” Frat Fink is upset that Jordan gets all this time with Becca and is coming home with a rose because Frat Fink basically doesn’t want to work. He wants Becca to “show him” that he means something to her and it’s basically entirely in her court. Nah, man. You’re on the wrong show and you have the wrong intentions. Frat Fink is what I hate about modern dating. Male comfort is not, and will never be a priority of mine, especially not over my own. Frat Fink has got it twisted.

Meanwhile, Jordan’s really trying. Really, really trying. He tries to be smooth and get a kiss from Becca but Becca’s just not feeling it. It’s awkward when she tells him she’s just not going to be able to get there with him, and he’s in shock. Jordan’s exit is clearly the exit of someone who’s never been rejected before and the exit of a handsome person being rejected for the first time.

The PA comes in to take Jordan’s bag away, and the guys are celebrating while Becca is left to watch fireworks alone.

It’s time for the Cocktail Party! Frat Fink is STILL freaking out about his one-on-one time, or lack thereof. Becca takes him aside first because she wants to get to the root of it all - on the group date, he didn’t try to talk to her, and some of the other guys (read: production) told her about him saying he wanted to go home. Becca and Frat Fink sit down, and the first thing he says is “Honestly, I think you owe me, like, 50,000 kisses right now.”

She. (clapping emoji)

Doesn’t. (clapping emoji)

Owe. (clapping emoji)

You. (clapping emoji)

Shit. (clapping emoji)

She is a woman with agency and also, the lead of this show. Becca literally doesn’t have to do anything other than show up. Even Becca is baffled when he says this. Frat Fink tries to defend himself but Becca calls out the fact he said he didn’t want to be there. He says he would’ve left if he wanted to leave, and Becca’s upset about what he said. Frat Fink is like “I didn’t think you were into me,” and Becca’s like, “When the hell did I ever give you that impression?” Because it’s grounded in nothing. The guys are all talking about him not taking the opportunity at hand at the group date to be with her but chose to sit back and throw a pity party. The one time things didn’t go his way, he flipped out. It’s a red flag.

Frat Fink keeps being like, “I don’t think you know how much I like you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you,” and Becca, rightfully, is calling his god damn bluff. His actions do not match his words. Becca is openly frustrated and doesn’t want to get worked up. She’s maaaaaad. She storms away, and Frat Fink talks with Garrett and Colton6 and rattles his whiskey glass because he knows he’s on thin ice with Becca. Frat Fink is crying because this is entirely his fault and he can’t do anything about it.

Garrett calls him “emotionally unstable”, which is hilarious because Lincoln is in the room when he does. But he’s right - if he’s having a meltdown over not getting time on a group date/cocktail party, it’s not a good sign. Frat Fink is going down in flames and they’re all there to see it.

My Boyfriend Wills has his time with Becca, and Frat Fink comes down to interrupt. Becca’s response (FINALLY!!!!) is “We just sat down,” because yes, it’s only respectful. Wills is wearing a plaid jacket and looks fly. You know Frat Fink is misogynist trash when he asks Becca twice if he can interrupt, and then asks Wills as if the answer’s going to change. Wills agrees to give him two minutes before he comes back.

Two minutes.

Frat Fink is talking to Becca like he has all the time in the world, and Wills comes back two minutes later. Wills reminds him he’s a) already had his time and b) he needs to respect him the way he has. Frat Fink says “it’s important”, and Wills is like, “And my time isn’t?”

Wills is a master class in arguing. What a fucking class act, oh my god. He is polite but firm. Becca is looking at Frat Fink with a smirk on her face because she is LOVING THIS. I would be too - Wills was polite enough to give up his time, and now he is

Wills stays firm and insists that no, Frat Fink cannot have more time and he must leave. Becca tells Frat Fink she’ll find him later on, and Frat Fink STILL thinks he might be able to change Wills’ mind. Becca says, “I’m true to my word, and if I say I’m going to find you, I’ll come find you.”

GET IT, BECCA. YOU’RE BORING SOMETIMES BUT THIS IS LIT.

Because Frat Fink is really full of fucking shit.

My Boyfriend Wills comes back from his date, and Frat Fink is freaking out. He tries to say Wills disrespected him, but he didn’t. Wills doesn’t have a problem and wasn’t attacking him - he even gave him a bit of time when he didn’t have to. All the other guys are defending Wills because Frat Fink is double dipping when a ton of the guys haven’t talked to Becca yet. Frat Fink says they’re all acting like victims, and all the guys are tired of hearing about Frat Fink’s problems like they don’t have their own.

Frat Fink is ‘fustrated’.That’s spelled wrong on purpose.

Becca comes to get Frat Fink, and he talks at her. She’s so mad that he tried to leave so quickly after things went down and he sees himself as this passionate knight. I mean, after his actions on the first night, I’m just over it. He admits to fucking up but I hate him.

Chris Harrison comes in for 10 seconds to announce the Rose Ceremony.

Garrett, Jason, Wills, Lincoln (BARF), Leo, Connor (I think??????), and Frat Fink7 all get roses.

Goodbye, Venmo John. You’re too good for this world. We’ll see you on Paradise.

And we’re off! To… Richmond, Virginia!

Next Week: Everyone’s on edge. Someone’s talking shit. Everyone’s terrified because they’re under pressure. Becca’s mentality is flawed, and they’re all feeling it. Frat Fink vs. Lincoln. And someone fucking loses it.

Later This Season: Becca stands on the beach in some international destination in a gorgeous dress. I wonder what she’s waiting there for?

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

They are editing Lincoln out of this show and I love it. It’s what he deserves.

Honestly, ever since I learned that the dates have no budget and basically given on what they can get for free, I can’t unsee it.

I will forever be haunted by the sound of Chris's ice in his glass clinking.

I seriously think Netflix might send someone to my house because they’re concerned about my Queer Eye intake. ↩︎

Seriously, guys. I love Queer Eye. ↩︎

Come on, you didn’t think I would make it through a full Bachelorette season without mentioning my Kat Kween at least once, did you? ↩︎

Is it weird I just can’t imagine him being just “Wayne” to people? Like how even Lisa Rinna calls Harry Hamlin Harry Hamlin? ↩︎

So... yogurt? ↩︎

I couldn’t tell them apart for a second. ↩︎

You can see Becca cursing out a producer when she has to do this. ↩︎

[romancevsreality-blog]

the bachelorette, season thirteen, episode eight: someone put me in charge of television programming

Hometowns, oh, hometowns.

How I wish you were better than you are.

We’re first in Baltimore for Eric’s date. All I know of Baltimore is that it’s a 45 minute train to DC from there, Deray, and John Waters. If you do not know John Waters, please exit this blog immediately and gain some perspective. Who ARE you? Rachel is in her best “Meeting The Parents” chic, a plaid button-down and jeans. I cannot wear jeans. I’m jealous of Rachel. We get to see some poverty porn - I’m from Detroit1, I can call it as I see it - and Eric takes Rachel to a basketball court. Rachel is astonishingly bad at basketball, and I can dribble once or twice before I give up.

Then Eric’s cousin Ralph shows up, and I immediately like Cousin Ralph for some reason. I love a dude who wears glasses and also slouches. Cousin Ralph reveals that this is the first time Eric’s brought a girl home since his prom, and talks about how proud he is of Eric. Eric describes himself as a “cool square”, which seems to be rather true. Cousin Ralph has nothing but nice things to say about his cousin, though, which I love2. Rachel and Eric have a seat and talk about the purposeful choices he had to make to not get into trouble in his life by learning from the mistakes of the people he loved. Errrrric, I get it. He talks about how his mother was strong almost to a fault, strong to where she couldn’t accept help from others, and how he did the same thing.

Uh. Yeah. I get that. I get that a lot. It took me a long time - and oftentimes, a lot of reassurance - to realize that the strongest people are the ones who know when to ask for help. I was so used to floating off into the sea by myself and struggling to stay afloat that I forgot to see if anyone would toss ya girl a life raft.

They head to Eric’s aunt’s house, and Rachel is suddenly nervous af because she’s the first girl he’s ever brought home. They all rise to their feet and go “heeeeeEEEEEEY” as soon as the two of them enter the room, and I’m dead. They’re squished all on what looks to be a chair and an L-shaped couch, and I feel like I’m at home. Auntie Renee is the first to take Rachel aside.

Y’all.

I love Auntie Renee.

Someone give Auntie Renee her own god damn talk show.

Auntie Renee reminds me of my two favorite aunts3 combined. Yas, Auntie Renee.

She immediately asks Rachel how it feels to be the #FirstBlackBachelorette, and Rachel goes deep about how she’s feeling all kinds of pressure from all sides. And this is why I’m happy I’m not the #FirstBlackBachelorette, tbh. It sounds awful other than the money and the clothes and… the love, I guess? But Rachel talks about how she’s being selfish for the first time in her life, and how it’s working out for her. Good for you, Rachel! They discuss whether or not Eric is ready to get married and fart out a lot of kids - Auntie Renee gives an enthusiastic yes - and Rachel’s relieved by that.

We see Eric chatting with his mother, and while their relationship definitely isn’t cuddly wuddly, she talks to her son with genuine advice and seriousness in a way only a mother can. She basically tells him she didn’t want him to grow up to be a fuckboy who relies on his mother or whatever female companion he has because doing that can prevent you from growth or being a better person. This literally is a discussion about emotional labor and the weight black women take on from black men who don’t demand it, but expect it, and will blame those black women for their own personal failures. Karen is pretty great. She’s cold, but great. They tell each other they love each other and it’s pretty nice, honestly. I feel Eric is being serious for once.

Rachel sits down with Eric’s mom and they talk about her feelings for him. She likes that he holds her accountable and vice versa. She likes that they’re playful. Meanwhile, Eric’s talking to his dad about how Rachel is defintely the one, despite the fact that they grew up differently, but… “[Rachel] is everything [Eric] wants out of a female.”

STOP USING THE WORD FEMALE OH MY GOD. FEMALE IS SAVED FOR FORMS ONLY.

They give toasts to Rachel, to love, to family, etc. etc. And then Eric walks Rachel out, they’re making small talk and - oh, Eric loves her.

He was thinking he loves her. He’s not sure, but he was thinking about it. Eric doesn’t QUITE say it, but he does. Kind of!

Ugh, we’re in Miami next. Miami, where douchebags move to thrive after their gestational period at the University of Arizona4, and smells like desperation, cocaine, and flat Dom Perignon. No, Miami. I am not a fan of you, and I am definitely not a fan of Bryan for being from you. He’s literally wearing an ombre polo that looks like one of those Microsoft Word gradients you loved in the third grade until your mom yelled at you for wasting all of the color ink because that shit was and IS expensive as hell. Bryan literally says "Bienvenidos a Miami" and I am brought back to 1997, when even then I knew it was a bad song.

I hate Bryan.

It’s raining, and they’re going into Domino Park to play dominoes. I will be genuinely shocked if there isn’t some product placement for Domino’s Pizza somewhere in here, and if there is not, I would like to speak to the producer who lapsed on this golden opportunity. You couldn’t even put in a Noid?!5 Bryan talks around Rachel in Spanish to old men, a feeling women really love when they don’t understand the language. Rachel describes Bryan as Miami through and through, and that’s not incorrect. They’re both gross and full of plastic surgery.

Those arepas they ate looked delicious, though. But their relationship lacks the substance those arepas probably have. Damn, I’m hungry.

Bryan is very close to his family, his mother in particular, which is worrisome for pretty much everyone. Including me. Bryan’s mother literally leaps into his arms when they first arrive, and seems on the verge of tears the entire time.

Y’all, I think Bryan’s mom might have been the inspiration for Charlie’s mom on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

Rachel’s talking to Bryan’s mom, who basically tells her that as long as he’s happy, she’s happy, but if Rachel makes him unhappy, she’ll kill her. Oh, god. This is such a cliche and not even a good one at that. Rachel, RUN. RUN FAR FAR FAR AWAY. Like, dear god, lady. Your son is 37 years old. He probably owns property and has a passport and literally all the other things a 37-year-old man should have and here you are, sobbing because someone might take your son away. I don’t trust this woman as far as I can throw her, and I have weak arms. Rachel lets out that fake “are you kidding or not” laugh when Bryan’s mom threatens her. It’s an accurate response.

Bryan and Rachel leave his family, and you can just tell that the minute that door slammed his mother was throwing all kinds of shade around the house. Bryan does that weird possessive-full-face-grab kiss, and tells her he’s falling in love with her. Eh????? I hate that Bryan is probably going to win this show.

We’re back in Madison, Wisconsin, Peter’s hometown. I’ve never been to Madison or Wisconsin but what I’ve seen on it on two different franchises of this show… I’m not interested. I don’t like cheese or badgers6 but I do like Chris Farley and Bradley Whitford, so. You can still turn me, Wisconsin. Peter introduces Rachel to his Black Friends, because of course, and I’m glad they didn’t just shovel us off to his family. Not that I don’t want to meet his family, but it’s nice to see something else. His friends have good things to say about Rachel, but who doesn’t?

Peter brings a case of PBR over to his family’s house instead of flowers and I immediately love Peter’s family because of it. Peter’s good with kids, of course. Is there anything wrong with Peter? Oh, we know what it is - he’s hesitant and practical. He’s never been engaged before and only wants to do it once - so he’s unsure if in the end of this he’s gonna get down on one knee. I get that.

But dude: READ THE FUCKING ROOM.

You signed for a reality show where the expectation, unfortunately, is that if you make it to the end, you’re going to get down on one knee and ask someone to marry you. It’s part of the whole experience. You’re on the wrong show if you don’t think that’s what is expected of you. And unfortunately, you’ve impressed the girl so much that now you have to come to terms with that. Rachel’s afraid that she’ll leave with a boyfriend instead of a fiance, but GIRL. THERE AIN’T NOTHING WRONG WITH GOING BACK TO DATING AFTER THE SHOW IS OVER. Do the whole shebang for the cameras and then… date each other for a while. See how it goes. Feel no pressure to rush into marriage. But of course, Rachel can’t say that. That’s Fanty Sweet discussion. Peter doesn’t tell her he loves her, but you know what?

Peter’s good with kids. I’ve expressed in my blog several times over what that does for me, and apparently it works fo Rachel. Good girl.

Dean’s from Aspen, which looks gorgeous. Rachel is wearing a duster and managing to pull it off. Maybe Lisa Rinna is really onto something. Dean is wearing red jeans. God, Dean has grown on me. I’m so sad the producers and editors are about to savage his soul. Dean and Rachel ride ATVs and whoever put a camera on the dash clearly wants to give me vertigo. Apparently this hometown date is the first time Dean’s family will all be under the same roof in eight years, and then I thought about it, and… same. I get it, Dean.

And the last time the five of us were in the same room, it was tense and awkward - awkward to the point where I literally don’t think it will ever happen again. I would have hated to have it on TV. Oh my god.

Dean’s doing this so Rachel knows where he’s at his in life and in their relationship. I get why he’s doing this - the conventional idea of a family is appealing - but… maybe I’m just too far removed from my dad to understand why your significant other needs to meet them. I don’t think my boyfriend ever will meet my dad and I’m okay with that. I’m sure he’s okay with that. He’s met the people who are important to me in my life and who I consider my family, and that’s what matters most. Meeting my dad won’t shape my boyfriend’s image of me. I do a poor enough job of that as it is.

Dean’s dad has converted to Sikhism six years prior, and he hasn’t talked to his dad in two years. He makes the point that it’s not the child’s responsibilty to maintain a relationship, and I got up and applauded. I was laying flat in bed, and that’s how much effort I was willing to make for something no one would see. It’s never the child’s responsibility to make sure that a relationship is maintained. It’s 50/50, yes, but if the parent shows no interest, then keep stepping. Blood relation does not mean you have to maintain a relationship. My dad thought that because I share half of his DNA it meant we were automatically going to have a great relationship, the same relationship I have with my mother, with zero input on his end.

Isn’t it amazing how my mom did literally all the work - carried me in her uterus for nine months, LITERALLY EJECTED ME FROM HER BODY, took care of me, slept next to me when I was thirteen, suicidally depressed and terrified, and loved me unconditionally - while my dad has one orgasm and thinks that’s enough to deserve a lifetime of affection? The level of entitlement is unreal. I had to accept that not only does my father not like me as a person - he would never be content with the fact that I became that person in spite of him, not because of him. My dad is horrified by the fact that I’m a Strong Black Woman because that means he gets held accountable and called out for things no other black woman has dared to. I’m not afraid of him like he wants me to be. I think he talks a big game, but he’s not nearly as intimidating or powerful as he used to be. He used to command respect, now he just expects it without doing anything to deserve it7.

No, you do not have to have a relationship with your parents. Your parents are people, just like you. You don’t have to like everyone - not even your mom or your dad. I’m heavy on Team Dean on this one and I don’t like that Rachel seems to think that years of emotional damage can be fixed in one night on a television show. Or that Dean telling his dad he loves him would fix anything. My dad has told me he loved me before. It doesn’t mean he likes me. It doesn’t mean he has my best intentions at heart. Love doesn’t mean shit if it’s not followed by acting accordingly. I don’t think if my dad called me on the phone and said he loved me would have any positive effect. In fact, I’d honestly be like, “Are you dying? Do you have cancer? What do you want?”

The pair tentatively head over to Dean’s house, where the family is gathered seated on the floor. There is a Sikh ceremony with a gong that’s portrayed with a shocking amount of sensitivity considering the source, and Dean’s dad talks beautifully about the love Dean’s mother provided for the family before she passed away. Dean’s tension is palpable because he feels like his family is just pretending to be okay and like they’re a content family when they’re really not. Dean’s dad asks for some private time, and Dean is NOT EXCITED.

Dean’s sister and Rachel sit and have a conversation about how much Dean’s sister admires Dean becuase of his strength in spite of everythnig he’s been through. Meanwhile, Dean’s dad is trying to take credit for how good of a person Dean is, and Dean’s like, “nuh uh, motherfucker.” Dean’s dad basically tries all the tricks to absolve himself from blame - I don’t know what it’s like to be you so how can I understand your experiences, I was there for you monetarily8, etc, etc. Dean doesn’t let that fly, though, and asks his dad for the two of them to come together like adults and have a real conversation about how awful it was for the both of them.

My heart is breaking for him. Dean just wants him to acknowledge that his dad disappeared and wasn’t there for him when he needed him to be, and Dean felt abandoned because of it. His dad basically tells him, “Well, I didn’t know how, so I didn’t do it at all.” At one point, Dean even says "How the hell you find religion and come out more selfish?" I have a few members of my family who I would love to introduce Dean to if he doesn’t get that concept. Some people use religion for good, some(most?) people use religion to get away with bad behaviors.He refuses to acknowledge that he did anything wrong or that he didn’t take the correct approach.

All Dean wants is an apology, a recognition somehow that this man knows what he did was unacceptable.

Dean will never get that, and no camera crew or production team can make that happen. His dad fundamentally sees nothing wrong with his behavior and thus cannot acknowlege it. He even tries to push it back onto Dean. His dad seems to think Dean’s just going to move past it. It’s not something you just “move past.” Dean tells his dad he loves him, and his dad just says “whatever”9.

I wish Dean got the “Let’s Hang With My Black Friends” treatment Peter did.

Dean’s dad sits down with Rachel and he thanks her for the fact that he’s been forced to see how Dean felt. He hopes it’ll work out between the two of them. Dean’s still inside, laying on the ground, crying. Dean apologizes to Rachel and tells him he’s falling in love with her, and she says it back. Even though Rachel took the classic “My Parents Are Happily Married So I Have A Great Relationship With Communication and No Abandonment Issues” path, I still feel for her. I get it.

We’re in Dallas, where Rachel’s getting ready for the rose ceremony. Rachel loves a pewter metallic gown. Can we stop matching her eyeshadow to her gowns, please? Rachel sits down with Chris Harrison in what MUST be his first appearance since the opener, and they just discuss her Hometown dates. It’s literally a regurgiation of the last hour and a half that we just watched.

Bryan gets a rose.

So does Eric.

And Peter gets the final rose, and Dean went through all of that emotional anguish for nothing.

Fuuuuck you, production team. This is exploitation. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

Dean gets the Can I Walk You Out exit, and he and Rachel sit down while you can tell Dean is pissed. He rightfully asks her why she said she was falling in love with him only to send him home, and she says she meant it. There’s a part of me that wonders if she only said it because… you know, crying on the floor. What she’s not saying is that he’s 26, she’s 32, and she’s ready to get married and fart out a few kids and he might not be quite there yet.

Dean, it’s not you, nor your shitty dad. It’s just not good timing. I still got mad love for you, though.

Next Week: Spain! Rachel’s ready to get engaged! Rachel’s introducing all the guys to her family, and her sister’s skeptical. Peter’s tentative. Bryan can’t handle the tension with her family.

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

I’m so glad I’m not on this franchise because oh my god they would totally try to do what they did with Dean and his dad with me and my dad. NO FUCKING THANK YOU. TELEVISION IS NOT A MEDIUM FOR FORGIVENESS OR EVEN FOR THAT CONVERSATION TO BE HAD.

I apologize for the lateness of this blog, as per usual.

The recepient of the Last Hometown Date is usually the one to go home, right? Does anyone have these numbers?

Can we please start a Change.org petition to replace Chris Harrison with Aunt Verna?

I love whatever makeup artist that insists on matching Rachel’s eyeshadow to her outfit.

I love that Peter naturally has glassy eyes. He always looks stoned.

Since this blog is two weeks behind, I’m not covering MTA or the penultimate episode. See you in a few minutes for the finale! If Bryan wins I will kill myself!

Outside of it in the Mitt Romney suburbs, but STILL. ↩︎

Shout out to all my cousins, who probably aren’t reading this blog! ↩︎

I have enough aunts to have a favorite, so what? ↩︎

Is it still a thing to make fun of schools? Remember that brief period? ↩︎

I only know of Avoid the Noid from Michael Ian Black and Hal Sparks on I Love The 80s, a franchise that should play on television 24 hours day. VH1 should just be I Love The 80s/90s/The New Millenium, a revamped Surreal Life, Candidly Nicole/Barely Famous, and RuPaul’s Drag Race 24/7. VP OF PROGRAMMING, GET @ ME. ↩︎

I had to google “What is Wisconsin Famous For?” for this. ↩︎

Read: My dad has a white man’s entitlement. ↩︎

My dad used to pull the “I put you through college” card too and get mad when I only reached out to him to make sure my tuition was paid, and one time got angry with me because I didn’t tell him what book I was reading on my Kindle that he paid for. He actually said to me, “I paid for it, and you’re not telling me what you’re reading?” BITCH I WAS READING ROOM BY EMMA DONAGHUE, ARE YOU HAPPY? That was the last time I was in the same room as my father, and I responded by taking 3 Vicodin, crying for 3 hours on the flight home, and then throwing up in my driveway. I hope it’s the last time I ever see him. ↩︎

My father said to me, “You are no longer a priority”, and that was the day I realized who exactly he was. Dean realized in that moment exactly who his dad was. ↩︎