#discrimination against clown cars

[toytulini]

so stupid that if i ever want to learn about working on cars id have to crawl under the car. if my car is barely bigger than a golf cart i should be able to just tip it on its side honestly. where do i get one of those things that holds the cow sideways to clean its hooves or whatever. do that to my car

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy28th! Here are all the fics I read and loved this month. I’m probably not saying it enough but all you talented authors in this fandom deserve all the love ♥

Train Tracks and Porcelain | jaerie | [42k] At the first hint of light, Louis was slowly brought back to consciousness by the growing swell of activity around him. It started in the distance with loud clanks and clatters and rose with the hollers of men and thudding of boots against the solid earth. He listened as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and tried to place any sounds he was familiar with. It took him too long to remember that he wasn’t back in his rented room. The energy was what floated to him next, a buzz that made him peek through the leaves to see what was going on. The next moments happened in the strange slow motion of dawn. Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) | lululawrence | [83k] The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can. Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again. As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

waving to the hard times | beardyboyzx | [80k] “When you took power, you promised the people equality, freedom from any form of discrimination, and the peace we were severely lacking. Today, once again, you're proving yourself to be a fake, a clown who rose to power just to think about himself.” Louis turns to look at the General once again and finds himself staring at the way his face seems scrunched up in pure and unadulterated rage. “But we — the people, have had enough of you and your barbarity.” Taking a step forward, the person raises his carbine and points it at the balcony. The crowd gasps and Louis takes his gun out of its holder and points it right back at them. “We've had enough. We're not gonna ask you to stop anymore. We're gonna make you.” -- Twenty-five years ago, a group of alpha soldiers led a revolution to dispose of the beta oppressive monarchy. Louis Tomlinson, the General’s alpha nephew, is set to follow in his footsteps and eventually lead the Country. When the arrest of a beta brings a silent resistance group to show themselves and threaten The General, Louis finds himself questioning the government's true nature and the equality of the law, in a quest that will change him for good.

I Want You to Linger | InsightfulInsomniac | [7k] Louis swallows, suddenly feeling very caught out. “Those… those are all for Harry.” “Yes.” Niall nods. “For Harry, who does not live here.” “I know he doesn’t, but I —“ Louis sets down his pen with a grimace. “Look, I’ll keep them in a box in my room, yeah? I just want him to feel comfortable when he’s over.” “Hm,” Niall hums, looking entirely unimpressed. “Mate, I’m not worried about the things themselves. The vase is actually really fucking nice; we look like proper adults with flowers on our coffee table. I’m saying we should talk about you courting Harry.” *** A friends-to-lovers fic in which oblivious alpha Louis courts his best friend, nests with the gifts he gets him, and is faced with the reality that sometimes telling someone you love them doesn’t go to plan (but turns out better in the end anyway).

Teach Me Your Ways | elsi_bee | [34k] Based on the following prompt: Omega Harry is the newly appointed sex ed teacher and uptight Alpha Louis does not approve of his very open methods. A rivalry ensues until Harry unravels him behind closed doors.

Captain Cupid | 2tiedships2 | [15k] “Right,” Niall started, finally getting the opportunity to unleash his horrible plan. “Well, as you both know, I’m an excellent matchmaker. A human Cupid.The best of the best at finding one's mate. And I’ve decided it’s time to make money doing it.” “Oh, God no,” Louis groaned, picking up his empty plate and placing it in the sink. He needed to escape as quickly as possible. Or the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

Burning Soul | LarryAlways28 | [39k] MATE. “What?” He whispered to himself. His boots crunched into the dirt as he stepped out of Greyhound bus. The immediate energy he felt was safe, welcoming contentment. He hadn’t felt that in a long time. He squinted as he looked around the small city nestled in the mountains. Or was it a big town? A nearby green sign read “Seven Corners, Population 101,000” ____ Louis is a rogue Omega wolf, all he wants is a new start. Will he allow himself to fully embrace what awaits him, or will he run again, too damaged by past hurt?

You're Not My Type (still I fall) | Imogenlee | [39k] His mum is going to kill him! Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something. She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha. But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater. Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to. He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

[dykeulous]

““A writer knows which side his bread is buttered on.” That’s me, the writer, him. I am a man. Not maybe a first-rate man. I’m perfectly willing to admit that I may be in fact a kind of second-rate or imitation of man, a Pretend-A-Him. As a him, I am to a genuine male him as a microwaved fish stick is to a whole grilled Chinook salmon… I am at best a bad man. An imitation phony second-rate him with a ten-hair beard and semicolons.” - Ursula Le Guin

as someone who has spent life collecting knowledge, being a yearning bookworm, writing essays and attempting to finish a book of my own; i consider myself an author. i am an author who also happens to be female.

authors who happen to be female, have no freedom of speech, because their freedom of speech violates and offends someone else’s. behind the offended mascot, frowning at the loud voice of a female autor, lies a male. i cannot possibly violently react to pornographic posters, and neither can i smash a male politician’s face for discrimination against women, against women who happen to be writers; because this offended mascot will accuse me of being a bitter & selfish woman, whose interests revolve around running campaigns against our innocent men. and even though most female authors end up being forgotten, i persist. i persist on creating sound sentences, collecting knowledge & staying strong for my sisters.

during my whole life journey so far, during my precious teenhood and my childhood, as well as my slow but steady transition into adolescence, i have been a play-pretend man. a useless, worthless, ugly, unhinged & silly larper. i belong in a circus. that is where all the larpers are placed. i am truly nothing but an undercover “crazy, hysterical witch”. i am a liar, a cheater, a deceiver. a disgusting vagina-haver. a man born with a vagina. a dyke. a fake man. a clown, an imitation, a mockery. a fool. i am a fool to ever had thought those alpha strong males would accept such a weakling, such a vagina-haver like me, into their sacred spaces. i am female, a femininely-masculine androgynous deceiver. i deserve a death sentence for being a deceiver, a liar, and a fake man.

during my childhood, i understood that my life as a girl & a woman was going to be challenging. i tried ignoring gender. i assumed i was simply human. i was a curious, “never-scared-to-speak-her-mind” type of child. i played with dolls. i played with cars. i played with kitchen sets. i played with action figures. it didn’t matter to me, and i could never grasp how it meant so much to everyone around me. i treasured independence, longed for it. i loved freedom, stability, peace; like a wolf. but i didn’t know that i was going to be treated like a mere fly, because i lacked a stick in my pants. i kept living as an individual similar to the next eight billion people in the world, and in spite of the fact that being human of a female flesh was going to be rough, i felt that my “gender” was overly plain & really unimportant to my own humanhood. i didn’t feel the need to be put in a box. i didn’t like labels. i didn’t like the way that some people viewed these colors as girly, and those colors as less girly. i didn’t like the way girls my age were ostracized if they had shorter hair, or if they wore “clothes made for boys”, or if they liked cars, or if they just happened to like the color blue. it never mattered to me, and i couldn’t force myself to understand why it mattered so much to others.

i didn’t see a difference between two young girls, one who had typically masculine appearance, hated dresses, liked cars, and excelled in math; and another girl, who watched violetta obsessively, liked pink fluffy dresses & talked about boy-crushes. i saw both of them as humans with separate personalities. the clothes they wore or the things they liked didn’t make me think they were any more or less a girl. they were both normal girls to me. i had yet to learn that being a girl and a woman in this society meant having to specifically fit in the one category: hyper-feminine, quiet, soft. we all had one same personality. all girls, and all women alike, shared a same-narrowed mind. we were all the same. the harsh reality finally hit me. i had a vagina. not a penis.

when i realized i wanted to be an author, i thought “i do not require a penis & a prostate to combine my words into sentences worthy of reading”. i thought i could simply envision stuff & base my writings on my inner thoughts and write it all on a piece of paper, similar to the rest of our other, male, authors. real male authors. not larpers, not dykes, not faggots, not trans people. real male authors. cis, heterosexual male authors. with a penis. but i was very wrong, i did not confront my reality yet, i just acknowledged it & continued to ignore it.

after years of being an imperfect man, a larper, a wannabe; i am just a piece burnt out on life. however, that never means giving up. because no matter how disappointed i am, i am never disappointed enough to give up on my sister’s liberation.

[whattheabcxyz]

2023-07-31

Singapore

Woman, 67, found dead in Henderson Road flat; husband taken to hospital unconscious - in a later update, he died

More businesses here going cashless despite resistance from some older customers - don't give them any business if you don't like it!

MOM survey finds more job seekers/employees discriminated against over mental health issues last year

Rules on use of national flag to ease on 1 Aug, while national symbols will have stronger safeguards

Data incidents in public sector on the rise - 182 were recorded last year, up from 178 the year before; these are incidents involving "the unintentional disclosure of data, such as a website data leak due to a system error, a cyber attack, or the sending of data to unintended recipients"

Stricter rules for electricity retailers to better protect consumers

FairPrice expands house brand business to supposedly sustain mandate of keeping prices fair for Singaporeans - this is the biggest load of bull I've heard yet... NTUC is now one of the most expensive supermarkets to shop at!!!

Agriculture

Barramundi Group stops farming sea bass in Singapore due to deadly virus outbreak

Internet

Members of mental health Telegram channel spammed with violent videos of decapitation - most likly one of 'em crazies from the group itself

Art

^ "Clown" by George Condo, 1989 - strangely mesmerising, yet also something a 6-year-old child could do

Society

Daredevil high-rise climber falls to his death climbing HK residential skyscraper

Gossip

Singapore: Local celebs gather at Tam Chiak coffee shop owned by Chew Chor Meng, Dennis Chew & food blogger Miss Tam Chiak

Travel

Singapore: Enraged tourists demand compensation after amphibious "duck craft" vehicle collides with car, shortening their trip

[leafsbabe]

Hello! So politically is Joe Burrow good? Like not a trump supporter? I kinda wanna know but I don’t cause it might ruin it for me but it’s also kind of a big thing. Ya know?

in my opinion he’s a good guy i listen all of the things i know or found out under the read more

okay so he and the lsu team did meet with trump after winning that one championship and he said regardless of political opinion it’s kinda cool to have the president attend a game BUT i think that’s mostly to appease the more conservative football fanbase because of later reasons

he said he’s not really into politics

despite that he seems to be rather outspoken about more liberal ideas as much as i hate to say that these are liberal ideasa and not just common decency and logic (most of this comes from a youtube video breaking this down)

he supports the blm movement and protests and said it’s not about politics it’d about human rights so that’s nice, also retweets a lot about different stories of police violence and just racist violence and how racism is bad and how discriminated black people are in society and sports

pro quarantine and pro masks

doesn’t deny climate change and retweets stuff about if being real and deniers being stupid AND has an electric car

asked for rich people to donate food to help out children that used to get their meals from school and now have nothing to eat

did retweet an obama post about the pandemic, also retweeted a biden tweet about him AND he retweeted some posts making fun of tr*mp

he supported the decision to ban guns from a football stadium in arkansaw, another one about the nra being shit and performative help

and he’s against the confederacy

now most of this is from a video called #1 Draft Pick Joe Burrow Thinks Trump Is A Clown on youtube, you can totally go watch it if you want just be careful because it has long clips of tr*mp talking shit and nobody wants to watch that lol

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader -”What Death Tastes Like” Part 4

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3      Part 5

Your Birthday

“Look at him, parading like a rooster!” Emma elbows you, huffing.

The Joker is on the terrace, nosing inside the coolers to find his favorite grape juice brand since he knows it should be in there somewhere. He’s sporting very dark purple pants and a much lighter shade purple shirt, fitted on his body to perfection plus two gold chains around his neck which makes one wonder why he didn’t add more giving his sense of fashion.

You pile up some fruits on your plate, gazing The Clown’s way with a smirk:

“Those trousers make his butt stand out.”

“That’s probably the reason for wearing them,” Emma sighs and you both burst up laughing, amused at the truth she admitted aloud.

“I feel this lustful desire of spanking him,” you blur out. “I bet your dad only unbuttoned half of his shirt because he obviously wants me to unbutton the other half: that sexy rooster can frizzle my feathers anytime he wishes,” you tease and she covers your mouth in a hurry.

“Y/N, can you not?!”

“Sssttt, you’ll wake up the baby,” the muffled sentence distracts Emma and she lets go, apologizing to the five weeks old:

“Oh, sorry angel,” she lingers over the baby basket placed on the empty table next to the self-serve buffet: Frost’s son is napping under the umbrella while his parents mingle for a little bit with the guests that already arrived at your birthday party. How did Jonny end up here? The crazy motive: his employer is to blame for the mess he created one hour ago, already fixed due to your sense of urgency.

The Joker showed up in time at 3pm for his “date” like you instructed; you opened the door and he immediately handed you a car sit containing the tiny human.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!”

“Ummm…thank you,” the hesitant Y/N invited him inside.

“I got you a present,” he widely grinned, confident nobody else came up with a better gift idea.

“… Whose baby is this?!...” you followed him, carefully walking with the adorable bundle in the living room; the sleeping treasure fussed for a few seconds and went back to dreaming, unaware he was away from his parents.

“Frost’s,” J answered and you turned towards the entrance, baffled.

“I’ll go open the door for him then.”

“That’s not necessary; he didn’t come with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“He’s off today. I just went to his house to drop up some ammo, then sneaked in the nursery and took the baby.”

“And his parents were ok with that?!” you crinkled your nose, more and more suspicious regarding his behavior.

“They don’t know,” The King of Gotham calmly informed.

“You kidnapped Frost’s son?!”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” J rolled his eyes, offended at your accusation. “I took him.”

“Without his parents’ consent. So you kidnapped him!” you gasped at the insane revelation.

“I’m in charge,” The Joker logic surfaced instantly. “I don’t require consent! Why are you staring at me like this?”

“I keep on hoping you’re bluffing,” you cringed at his argument. “Give me your phone!” you ordered and the item was shortly in your possession, although you had to witness a lot of grievance from his part as you searched for Frost’s digits.

Praise heavens you did since his wife was absolutely hysterical when you called: their offspring was missing from the cradle and Jonny might not be the type of person that panics, yet he had a total nervous breakdown.

They were fast to come and pick up Evan, so yeah… that’s how The Frosts ended up at your birthday bash… Full credit goes to their amazing boss!

*************

After one hour

“Do me a favor,” your father continues his conversation with J. “I want you to check with your contacts and try to find more Cromyxillium for me; I’m in desperate need.”

“Don’t you have enough for Y/N?” The Joker growls at the view of Bane’s son entertaining himself with you and Emma.

“For now. Tomorrow I’m starting her on full therapy; I found a new formula to bind the molecules together, this way her system won’t reject the medicine like it did last week. It will make her sick but I’ll be here to supervise the entire process.”

“Aren’t you afraid it will kill her?” J’s sensitive personality comes to full bloom in the best of moments.

Jonathan Crane is silent, then articulates painful facts he can’t avoid sharing:

“I am… I don’t have any other options on such a short amount of time…My daughter is fading… her lungs are finished…” and he gulps, straining to regain composure. “If this experimental drug can restore damaged tissue, it can aid with her cancer… She agreed to the test because I’m a super smart dad,” he grumbles. “That’s what she said…that I’m a super smart… I might be… I don’t even know if my remedy will work or if it will speed up her demise.”

“Fine, I’ll inquire on the product,” The Joker agrees. “What’s in for me?”

Your father takes a deep breath, exasperated.

“What do you want?”

“Excuse me,” The King of Gotham interrupts. “I think my pride’s at stake: somebody’s attempting to steal my date!” he inflates his chest and finds it imperative to notify the puzzled parent. “Y/N’s my date, didn’t she tell you? I was strictly forbidden to bring Mara so I had to maintain my reputation somehow.”

“What reputation??!!! She mentioned it and I thought the whole idea meant only you being obnoxious!” Jonathan huffs.

“I am obnoxious!” The Joker sourly admits and crushes the large group forming due to Sam’s entertaining abilities.

“Hey Y/N, where’s the grape juice?” he finds a random pretext to get your attention as you gesture towards the end of the terrace.

“There’s a bunch on ice,” you giggle at Sam’s story and J lies:

“I couldn’t find any.”

“Maybe someone moved it,” you detach from the gathering and stroll with him in the area you saw what he’s asking for.

“Who gave you that pendant?” The Clown Prince of Crime investigates since you definitely didn’t have the jewelry earlier.

“Sam,” you touch the delicate diamond heart attached to the platinum chain. “It’s so pretty, I love it.”

“He scored major points with the birthday girl, huh?” J mocks.

“Well, apparently some people are aware of my preferences and some give me presents I can’t keep,” you hint and The Joker comprehends what you aim at.

“My gift was brilliant! You said that if we would have gotten married we would have had a bunch of kids, thus it means you adore them. That’s why I brought Evan.”

“Yeah, and his parents already took him home, leading to the reasonable conclusion we can assess from the fiasco: you actually don’t have a present for me. Oh, would you look at this: grape juice!” you sarcastically show him the huge pile of containers exactly where it’s supposed to be.

“How did I miss this?” J pretends to be shocked and sneers when he notices Bane’s son coming near you two. “Dance with me!” he unexpectedly sweeps you in his arms. “It’s a slow song, just move your feet,” he encourages. “What do you want for your birthday then?” Emma’s dad distracts the astonished Y/N furthermore.

“Hmmm… I can settle for a kiss?” you unconsciously caress the short hair on the back of his head while he quickly pecks your cheek. “Um… if I wanted a jellyfish sting I could have went to the aquarium,” you sassily react and The Joker rolls his eyes. “I want a proper kiss, unless you have those reserved for Mara.”

“Why are we talking about my girlfriend?”

“On and off girlfriend,” you emphasize. “A huge indicator you don’t care that much about her. You need a woman that genuinely loves you; she’s a catalyst fueling your tendencies, you don’t need that! You don’t fight fire with fire, OK?” you almost shout and ironically enough he decides to engage in your speech.

“What do you fight it with then?”

“Dynamite!” you proudly state. “Blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh!”

“A-ah…A-ha…”, he mischievously agrees. “I assume you’re the dynamite in this scenario?” the silver grimace spreads across his face.

“Perhaps.”

“Why is Bane’s son here?” The Joker changes the subject. “He keeps lurking around and it annoys me.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you mislead him on purpose. “Sam was my boyfriend in high school,” you brief your so called partner. “I’m fond of him.”

“Why would I be jealous?!” The King’s mood switches and you realize yours is also: the sole detail he’s interested in is to emphasize zero attraction for his daughter’s friend.

“Yeah…why would you be jealous?...” you sadly smile and let go before the song ends. “Listen, I have to return to my guests, alright? You don’t have to stay; you should go back to your fire because you certainly don’t know what to do with dynamite,” the meaningful reply leaves him intrigued again: no cocky response to your clever twist in words since he already lost the passive-aggressive altercation.

************

9:49pm  

You gaze at the starry sky, cozy on the inflatable mattress; the mesh on top of the tent is so thin you can hardly tell it’s there. Very quiet in the garden… you should have went to the river with the others, yet you felt the urge to be alone and rest before you reprise your treatment tomorrow.

“Y/N, are you in here?” The Joker’s voice is heard.

“No!” you grouchily snarl.

He unzips the tent and squeezes inside, obeying to your protest:

“Close it! I don’t want bugs in here!”

“I’m hiding from Crane, he made me do a bunch of stuff in preparation for your Cromyxillium therapy!” J complains to indifferent ears.

“I thought you bailed hours ago,” you coldly articulate.

“I was held prisoner in the underground lab! You should be thankful for my services.”

“You don’t do anything for free and I’m sure you’re over exaggerating anyway!”

“Whatever!” The Joker drops on the mattress next to you, deeply exhaling. “I’m beat; I’ll rest for a bit before I drive.”

You rest your fingers on your tummy, struggling to remain calm.

“I missed hanging out with my cuddling buddy,” J nozzles in your shoulder and you give him an insolent glare.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“That’s too bad; I precisely came to deliver your birthday present. I resent the notion of a man unjustly accused of being cheap.”

“What birthday present?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“The kiss you demanded Y/N!”

“I’m good,” you disregard his offer and he hovers over you, captivated.

“I thought you have the hots for me, I even wore these hoochie pants to please you. I mean, I endured your affection and harassment for the past three years. I’m here now with an invisible olive branch so I think you should reconsider your answer.”

“Did you just say hoochie pants?!” you snicker at his distorted apology although you’re mad at him. “You didn’t wear them for me; you wanted to show off your assets!”

“It’s not my fault I’m handsome!” The Joker defends his wardrobe choice.

“I seriously want to be alone,” you indirectly imply he should disappear. “I’m tired of playing games. I won’t flirt with you anymore, I promise. Deal?” you lift your pinky up and there’s something strange concealed behind your abrupt vow.

“Why not?”

“First of all, I won’t have the energy: my father warned of serious consequences during the treatment. Second, it might kill me: we don’t know how my physique will endure; I have terminal cancer, remember?”

“Are you scared?” J whispers and you nod a yes, upset. “Then you should accept your gift in case you won’t have another occasion,” his rationale pushes you to reconsider your alternatives.

You pull him closer and wait, explaining your hesitation.

“It’s my birthday, you should be the one kissing me.”

The Joker doesn’t defy your logic and complies, unable to suppress an arrogant grin when you moan:

“God, your lips are so soft; I could kiss them all day.”

“Don’t get into it, I have to vacate the premises soon. I don’t want Crane to catch me in your tent and presume the worst.”

“My dad will be in the lab until morning time; you can stay if you want to,” you trace his jaw line, momentarily forgetting your grudge.

“Didn’t you preach about wishing to be alone?”

“Why are you making out with another woman besides your girlfriend?” you evaluate the waters with a question.

It doesn’t seem he’ll bother to justify his behavior thus you utter:

“I can be alone…with you. I’m 23, literally a consenting adult,” the important information is added for the heck of it.

“Consenting to what?” The Joker mumbles as you softly bite his lower lip.

“I hate you,” you pout and snuggle to him while he grabs a pillow, irritated at his involuntary reaction. J stuffs it in between the bodies and you swiftly toss it away.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble Y/N?”  

“You’re always in trouble,” you begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s go with the flow, shall we? No strings attached, no commitments. You know why?” you pause and continue. “I might not survive the Cromyxillium and I want to make love to the old guy I have a major crush on.”

“Old?!” The Clown prince of Crime scoffs.

“You’re basically twice my age,” you roughly estimate without proof and kiss him again. The Joker slides his hands under your t-shirt, opting to dismiss your affirmation with a different kind of truth.

“Do you recall when you asked me if I ever tasted death?”

“Yes…”, you bury your face in his neck, wondering if he’ll say something mean that will ruin the night.  

“You don’t taste like death,” J forces you to look at him. “You really don’t.”

“… … … … … … …  You think so?” the emotional Y/N sniffles, categorically surprised at the confession.

“Yeah. You actually taste like dynamite,” he winks and doesn’t mind the sudden meltdown: The Joker is not big at comforting people, but the girl in his arms feels relieved nevertheless.

She might not compare to the fire he’s used to, yet Y/N’s eagerness to blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh is unfamiliar territory that’s worth exploring.    

  Also read: MASTERLIST

[thecartoonuniverse]

Sad about Adventure Time Ending and Looking for Something else to Watch?

Or just want to know about the new cartoons series coming up later this year or in 2019? Well, here’s a list! Let me just say we have a lot to look forward to...

2018

The Dragon Prince (September 14th, Netflix):

The Dragon Prince is an epic fantasy series by the head writer and director of Avatar: the Last Airbender. In the magical land of Xadia, magic comes from six primal sources. But when human mages create a seventh kind of magic, Dark Magic — they begin capturing and harvesting the unique magical creatures they need as ingredients. This sparks a catastrophic war between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. Three kids from opposite sides of the conflict — two human princes, and the elven assassin who was sent to kill them — discover a secret that could change everything. They decide to join forces and go on an epic journey that may be their only hope of ending the war, and restoring peace to both their worlds.

Hilda (September 21st, Netflix):

Hilda follows the journey of a fearless blue-haired girl as she travels from her home in a vast magical wilderness full of elves and giants to the bustling city of Trolberg, where she makes new friends and discovers mysterious creatures who are stranger –and sometimes more dangerous– than she ever expected. Based on graphic novels by Luke Pearson, who storyboarded for Adventure Time.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (November 16th, Netflix):

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is the story of an orphan named Adora, who leaves behind her former life in the evil Horde when she discovers a magic sword that transforms her into the mythical warrior princess She-Ra. Along the way, she finds a new family in the Rebellion as she unites a group of magical princesses in the ultimate fight against evil.

3 Below (December 21, Netflix):

3 Below will focus on two royal teenage aliens and their bodyguard who flee a surprise takeover of their home planet by an evil dictator and crash land in Arcadia. Now on the run from intergalactic bounty hunters, they struggle to blend in and adapt to the bizarre world of high school all the while attempting to repair their ship so they can return and defend their home planet.

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic (Boomerang): 

Care Bears: Unlock the Magic sends the Care Bears on the road for the first time, exploring never-before-seen areas surrounding Care-a-lot called The Silver Lining.

2019

Owl House (Disney Channel):

Owl House is a horror-comedy series that follows Luz, a self-assured teenage human girl who accidentally stumbles upon a portal to the Demon Realm. There she befriends a rebellious witch, Eda, and an adorably tiny warrior, King. Despite not having magical abilities, Luz pursues her dream of becoming a witch by serving as Eda's apprentice at the Owl House and ultimately finds a new family in an unlikely setting.

Amphibia (Disney Channel):

The show tells the story of Anne Boonchuy, a self-centered 13-year-old who is magically transported to the fictitious world of Amphibia, a rural marshland full of frog-people. With the help of an excitable young frog named Sprig, Anne will transform into a hero and discover the first true friendship of her life.

101 Dalmatian Street (Disney Channel): 

101 Dalmatian Street is inspired by Dodie Smith's 1956 novel and Walt Disney's 1961 One Hundred and One Dalmatians. But it is has been updated and moved to contemporary London. It depicts the adventures of eldest Dalmatian siblings Dylan and Dolly, parents Doug and Delilah, and ninety-seven younger puppies, all with names beginning with "D", who live all by themselves at the titular address.

Infinity Train (Cartoon Network):

Infinity Train is about an intelligent, albeit frustrated, girl named Tulip who—for reasons unknown—is trapped on a train full of infinite worlds. Accompanied by conjoined robots Glad-One and Sad-One, Tulip is determined to solve the mystery of the train and find her way home. 

Victor and Valentino (Cartoon Network):

In the small quiet town of Monte Macabre, two total opposite half-brothers search about the town for adventure and find strange and supernatural happenings with the help of their supernatural grandmother.

Thundercats Roar! (Cartoon Network):

Staying true to the premise of the original series, Lion-O and the ThunderCats — Tygra, Panthro, Cheetara, Wilykat, and Wilykit — barely escape the sudden destruction of their home world, Thundera, only to crash land on the mysterious and exotic planet of Third Earth. Lion-O, the newly appointed Lord of the ThunderCats, attempts to lead the team as they make this planet their new home. A bizarre host of creatures and villains stand in their way, including the evil Mumm-Ra, Third Earth’s wicked ruler who will let nothing, including the ThunderCats, stop his tyrannical reign over the planet. 

Villainous (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Villainous is the story of Black Hat Org., run by Black Hat and his team of three less-villainous aides. Black Hat is trying to sell various evil inventions created by Dr. Flug and desperate to achieve his evil aspirations. However, things usually end up going wrong for him as the brilliant innovations tend to have small and often comical flaws. Has already been airing Orientation Videos and Shorts on YouTube for a while, but a pilot will be aired soon, with a full series hopefully to follow.

Golpea Duro ¡Hara! (Cartoon Network Latin America):

Golpea Duro Hara! (Hit Hard Hara!) is the story of Hara, the only female fighter in the world, and together with her friend Tesu, she fights against the discrimination suffered by the brutal men who populate the planet. But Hara has a hidden side: a vicious transformation that frustrates her plans!

Glitch Techs (Nickelodeon):

Glitch Techs is an adventure-comedy following two newly recruited kids as they battle video game monsters that come to life in the real world.

High Guardian Spice (Crunchyroll):

In High Guardian Spice, the lives of four fierce girls, Rosemary, Sage, Thyme and Parsley, converge at High Guardian Academy, the one place where they can stumble towards adulthood while becoming the heroes they’ve always admired. As they master the ways of battle and sorcery, our foursome form allegiances and comical kinships, uncover legacies and betrayals, and discover their true identities while preparing to protect the world from an ominous unknown threat.

Carmen Sandiego (Netflix):

In the upcoming animated series produced by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Carmen Sandiego is back and ready for a new crop of international capers packed with thrilling adventure and intrigue. This fresh take presents an intimate look into Carmen's past where viewers will not only follow her escapades but also learn WHO in the world is Carmen Sandiego and WHY she became a super thief.

Seis Manos (Netflix):

Set in Mexico in the 1970’s era, Seis Manos centers on three orphaned martial arts warriors who join forces with a DEA agent and a Mexican Federal to battle for justice after their beloved mentor is murdered on the streets of their tiny border town.

Last Kids on Earth (Netflix):

The Last Kids on Earth follows 13-year-old Jack Sullivan and a band of suburban middle schoolers who live in a decked-out tree house, play video games, gorge themselves on candy, and battle zombies in the aftermath of the monster apocalypse. It’s a hilarious series filled with wisecracking kids, crazy gadgets, a lifetime supply of zombies and giant-sized monsters.

Twelve Forever (Netflix):

The series centers on 12-year-old Reggie, whose desire to remain a child is so powerful it creates a fantasy world in which she never has to grow up. She’s joined by her friends Todd and Esther, who visit this amazing world to live out their superhero fantasies and escape the responsibilities of impending adulthood.   

Wizards (Netflix):

Wizards brings together the three disparate worlds of trolls, aliens and wizards who have found themselves drawn to Arcadia. The final chapter of the Tales of Arcadia culminates in an apocalyptic battle for the control of magic that will ultimately determine the fate of these supernatural worlds that have now converged.

Young Justice: Outsiders (January 4th, DC Universe):

Young Justice: Outsiders is the third season of Young Justice. The backdrop for the season is described as being one that will touch on "all corners of the DC universe," and that certainly seems to be the case considering the sheer number of bad guys discussed and shown in the trailer. The team will be tasked with stopping a metahuman trafficking ring, as well as dealing with the "intergalactic arms race for control of these super--powered youths." You can also count on new heroes Arrowette, Spoiler, and Thirteen joining in the fight.

gen:Lock (January 2019, Rooster Teeth):

In gen:LOCK, Earth’s last free society is on the losing side of a global war, and recruits a diverse team of young pilots to control the next generation of mecha—giant, weaponized robot bodies. These daring recruits will find, however, that their newfound abilities come at no small cost. As Chase leaves behind his life as a fighter pilot to become the first candidate for the program, he finds his endurance, as well as his very identity, will be tested beyond anything he ever imagined.

Undone (Amazon):

Undone is a half-hour animated dramedy that explores the elastic nature of reality through its central character, Alma. After getting into a near-fatal car accident, Alma discovers she has a new relationship with time and uses this ability to find out the truth about her father’s death.

Close Enough (TBS):

Close Enough is a surreal take on transitioning from 20-something to 30-something. The show centers on a married couple juggling such everyday challenges as parenthood, friendship, ham theft, stripper clowns and choosing the right daycare. Was supposed to air in 2017 or 2018, but no word of a release date yet, so I assume it will be in 2019.

Hero High (February 14th, ???):

Not many details are known about this show, but it will be a Legend of Zelda high school parody. Source

Long Gone Gulch (Internet):

Two screwups, Snag and Rawhide, find themselves bestowed as the new Sheriff’s of a strange world adrift in an ever moving dust cloud. Long Gone Gulch holds the inhabitants of myths, urban legends and folklore from around the world. They travel through the land when they are needed and encountering all manner of adventures along the way.

Hazbin Hotel (???):

Hazbin Hotel is the story of Charlie, the princess of Hell, as she pursues her seemingly impossible goal of rehabilitating demons to peacefully reduce overpopulation in her kingdom. She opens a hotel in hopes that patients will be "checking out" into Heaven. While most of Hell mocks her goal, her devoted partner Vaggie, and their first test subject, adult film-star Angel Dust, stick by her side. When a powerful entity known as the "Radio Demon" reaches out to Charlie to assist in her endeavors, her crazy dream is given a chance to become a reality.

Gorillaz (Internet):

A ten-episode show based off of the fictional band. Might not be happening apparently.

2020

Solar Opposites (TBS):

Solar Opposites follows a family of aliens who leave their planet and settle in suburban America.

And that about covers it! Let me know if I missed any of the big ones!

[newagesispage]

                                                                            MARCH    2020

PAGE RIB

 The Stones are touring the U.S. again.

*****

Paul Reubens is touring with Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.

*****

Al Franken is touring.

*****

Keenan Thompson and Hasan Minhaj are bringing comedy back to the White House Correspondents dinner on April 5.

*****

Days alert: There is some casting news but most of this won’t show up until the fall. Word is a couple of newbies will be Remington Hoffman who will play Li Shin, son of Mr. Shin and Emily O’Brien may join the cast. Nadia Bjorlin (Chloe) may be on her way back. Let’s bring the original Phillip back for her!!! Brandon Barash (Stefan) will return as well as Louise Sorel ( Vivian )and Alison Sweeney ( Sami). Judi Evans is headed back. Will she play Adrienne or Bonnie?? It looks like Casey Moss (JJ), Freddie Smith (Sonny), Chandler Massey (Will) and Galen Gering (Rafe) mill head out for awhile.

*****

It looks like Friends freaks will finally get their reunion on HBO. I am glad they aren’t bringing the characters back and are just getting together to talk about their time together.

*****

Downhill hit theatres on Valentine’s Day with Will Ferrell, Julia Louis- Dreyfus and Zoe Chao. The film was written and directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash.

*****

The more I see of it, the more I LOVE Stumptown, the best show that nobody seems to know about. Please renew ABC!!!!!

*****

So.. Rush Limbaugh got the Medal of Freedom.  Oh my.

*****

Shadow Inc. owned by former Clinton and Obama staffers made an app that thoroughly fucked up the Iowa caucus. It was good at calculating the results but not delivering them.  And hey.. Wolf Blitzer, stay off the phone with people that are trying to get those results. Let them just do their job!!

*****

Brooklyn 99 is back and Vanessa Bayer is there!!!

*****

Rod Blagojevich is out and hitting every show that will have him. Trump pardoned him along with 10 other criminals including Ed DeBartolo Jr., Mike Milken and Bernard Kerik.

*****

Forty thousand kids won’t get free lunch because Trump threw them off food stamps. The two usually go hand in hand. Getting food stamps automatically sets a kid up for the free lunch program.

*****

Over 1000 former DOJ officials have asked Bill Barr to resign.** 70 former Senators have written an open letter to congress to tell them they are not fulfilling their congressional duties.**” Yoo Hoo! Bush, Clinton, Carter, Obama, you’re up.” –Patricia Arquette

*****

Pete Davidson and Kaia Gerber have split.

*****

Indiana Beach is closing after 94 years.

*****

Denny Hamlin won the 2020 Daytona 500.

*****

Can’t we get some real gigs for Rainn Wilson and Curtis Armstrong? Ok, so Cyrtis Armstrong was on Stumptown so thank goodness for that! They can do better than Dominoes and Little Caesars ads. And how funny is it that Dominoes, known for its very Chrustian owners use a Risky Business ( a film about prostitutes) ad for their product. Hmm.

*****Hey.. Comics, quit bringing up Trump and his former womanizing. It didn’t work with Clinton and it won’t work here. People just don’t seem to care. Focus on the real damage he is doing.

*****

Scary Clown is working on opening nearly a million acres of land in Utah for energy exploration that had been a National monument. Redford and Romney can’t be happy about that.

*****

A new animated series from a brand new production company owned by Natasha Lyonne and Maya Rudolph looks promising. Look for The Hospital.

*****

Southern Illinois University is giving Bob Odenkirk an honorary degree.

*****

Ukranian immigrants Lt. Col. Vindman and his twin brother are out. Ambassador to the EU Sonland is out.

*****

The Democrats had a debate on Feb. 7 . At Andrew Yang’s first chance to speak, he rehashed his stump speech. I mean, c’mon give us something new. There really seemed to be a restrained nervousness on the stage that night. Klobachar seemed too needy but she got great reviews. Biden called Buttigieg ‘a friend ‘ a couple of times. Mayor Pete did quite well. ** Deval Patrick is out** Andrew Yang is out.**Michael Bennet is out** Another debate was on Feb. 19.** Bloomberg/Yang? Is this true?

*****

Check out the new series, Hunters. It is awesome, funny and terrifying!

*****

Dozens of Native American women and girls have disappeared from Big Horn county, Montana over the last few years. The victims were later found dead and Trump has put a federal task force together.

*****

Grassley and Wyden are trying to get lower prescription drug prices but Moscow Mitch won’t bring the proposal to the floor. Others are looking to get some traction on HR3.

*****

JSW Steel has sued the Trump administration for refusing to exempt it from paying the levies on slabs of steel that the company imports.

*****

64 women have filed sexual harassment or discrimination lawsuits against Mike Bloomberg. I’m not a fan of the guy but it does seem sort of coincidental.  It does not seem to matter cuz all his ads seem to be working, he is picking up steam. Tom Steyer is gaining a bit of momentum as well.

*****

The corona virus has brought us Covid 19. 600 people are being held in quarantine camps that the military has set up.  Italy has new cases and the disease is spreading. Scary Clown is trying to spin it all.

*****

ICE is being sent into sanctuary cities to cause trouble for immigrants.

*****

You have to check out Horse girl with Alison Brie, Molly Shannon and Matthew Gray Gubler on Netflix .

*****

Rapper Larry Sanders AKA LV is letting us in on a miscarriage of justice he has had to live thru. LV, best known for his work on Coolio’s Gangsters Paradise, was approached by police and later put on the Calgang database. The practice put about 80,000 mostly African Americans on a sort of gang list. In a 2016 audit it was found that there were many inaccuracies including the names of babes who could not possibly be gang affiliated.

*****

Nature does not need people. People need nature. –Harrison Ford

*****

The Clark bar is back. The roll out has started in Pittsburgh and will soon spread across the country.

*****

Scientists have found some turtle fossils that are the size of a car in South America.

*****

U can donate to the Trump campaign and may win a yaqut and hunting trip with Don Jr. The Beach Boys will perform.

*****

The Oscars were held Feb. 9. Brad Pitt and the production design team won for Once upon a Time in Hollywood. Woo Hoo! Word is that Pitt has hired a speech writer to write his acceptances. JoJo Rabbit won for adapted screenplay. Little Women won for Little Women and Toy Story 4 for animated film. Laura Dern won best supporting actress. Renee Zellweger and Joaquin Phoenix too home the top actor prizes. Parasite surprised everybody and won best pic and got Bong Joon Ho a best director statue. My best dressed were Billy Porter, Antonio Banderes and his date, Janelle Monae ( her opening seemed to make some in the audience uncomfortable), Robert DeNiro, Laura Dern, Diane Ladd, Geena Davis, Regina King, Charlize Theron, Adam Driver, Joanne Tucker, Cynthia Erivo, Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman and Kathy Bates, I don’t know what Kristen Wiig and Idina Menzel were thinking. Wiig always has a unique style so I have to admire that. ** The ratings were down. I have heard people saying they just don’t watch award shows or late night shows anymore because they are afraid things will get political. Funny, that is part of the reason I watch!

*****

Tom Papa was pontificating about a real dog show that should have REAL dogs. It would make a great weekly show with people bringing on their dogs.

*****

The goalies of the Hurricanes were out of commission and David Ayres, the Zamboni driver was brought in to help and the won against the Maple Leafs. Woo Hoo!!

*****

Hooray for New Hampshire and their use of paper ballots. Things in the campaign got a little shook up with Bernie taking the top followed by Pete and Amy.

*****

2 years of research in Canada has brought the announcement of a new discovery. Skull fragments  that were cleaned and collected about 10 years ago have been named Thanatotheristes or the reaper of death. The discovery helps us all learn more about the early times of Tyrannosaurids, a sub group that includes T.Rex.

*****

New Jersey has a ban on self- serve pumps and another state is talking about getting in on the action.  The gas station attendant act has been proposed in Illinois.

*****

Van Jones was right when he said we shouldn’t give Trump any press coverage for a week. He would hate it. Trump loves the old adage of bad publicity is better than none because he just must have attention. It would never work for they just can’t resist.** Joe Mcguire is out after he warned of Russian interference. If you want to keep your job in this administration, do not tell the truth. Now at the Department of National Intelligence is Johnny Mcentee , a 29 year old former football player who worked on the campaign. He immediately called department heads and said he wanted lists of never Trumpers in their offices. ** And who is in charge of weeding out the people in the government who may be disloyal to Scary Clown? Well, it is none other than Virginia Thomas, wife of Supreme Court justice Clarence. She calls it the list of snakes. Trump is now saying he even wants liberal judges on the Supreme Court to recuse themselves when it comes to “Trump related cases”. It just keeps getting worse.

*****

Trump had fun in India. He should, his business has 5 projects going there right now worth 1.5 billion.

*****

Harvey Weinstein was found guilty of rape and criminal sexual assault. He was not found guilty of all the charges that included predatory behavior.

*****

Andrew Yang is a new correspondent at CNN. He tells us that he is getting word from former donors that Bloomberg is calling those big donors. Allegedly he is telling them they do not have to donate to his campaign because he can afford his own campaign but he still won’t forget them. He would like them to save their money and not give money to other democrats running either.** And I am so sick of talking heads trying to tell us to play it safe. We are not as stupid as we look, thank you!! ** Now there is a firestorm about Bernie telling the world that the education program that Castro implemented was a good thing. I understand the anger and it could not have come at a worse time and he did it to himself. BUT..  We are adults and we have to be able to talk about things as they really are, not in sound bites. Castro sucked and history teaches us that bad people do good things occasionally and good people do bad things once in a while. ** It seems that everyone was in agreement that we would all gather behind the winner of the democratic campaign to beat Trump. Suddenly when it could be Bernie, everybody is bitching.

*****

This month held 2 more Democratic debates. The Nevada debate got pretty heated. I see that Mayor Pete and Bloomberg are lefties (left handed that is). Pete always looked poised and articulate which I appreciate and he got in a good one when he mentioned that the party should choose someone who is actually a democrat.  Bernie seemed a little rattled by that. Later Pete really dressed down Amy Klobuchar and made himself look like a dick. Joe Biden jumped in with his credits occasionally but often seemed a bit lost. He slammed back that they were all talking about the health care plane he helped to create and that he himself had dealt with the Mexican President. His name came up after it was mentioned that Amy could not remember the President’s name. The gloves were off with Bloomberg as Elizabeth Warren called him out on Billionaires and NDA’s. I loved the interaction but realistically Mr. Mike can’t just release people from agreements they made in an NDA, especially if it did not involve him. Bloomberg sounded pompous and clueless about the world outside of his company. He got a moan when he said he couldn’t exactly use turbo tax and when he said he may have told a few jokes that women didn’t like. He brushed off his taxes much like Trump does. The former mayor of NY called out socialists as communists. Klobuchar had the best comeback of the night when she was told her health care plan could fit on a post it. She proclaimed that the post it was invented in her state of Minnesota. Again, there were people shouting from the audience as Joe tried to talk. C’mon give everybody an equal chance.

*****

The South Carolina debate was fiery as well. The CBS debate was hosted by Gayle King and Norah O’Donnell. Bloomberg was booed right off the bat about Russia helping Bernie but he late had many cheers. He and Biden and Steyer had some real support there. Tom Steyer was actually quite impressive and seemed well spoken.  He was the only one who brought up the impeachment. He had a great point that we all know that republicans who did not convict Trump are complicit in the Russian meddling. Then he ruined it all by being alarmist with his fear. He warned us off the former republican and the socialists. I loved Bernie’s ideas about small business’s getting in on the marijuana business and not letting big corporations taking it over. He is also the only one in debates that I have seen consistently bring up Native Americans.  Biden again kept jumping in to tell us that he did this or that. Amy disagreed about a bill he claimed to have written. Warren said “dig in” numerous times. She went for the jugular with Bloomberg when she said a former female employee of his said to “kill it” in response to her pregnancy. He denied it but it sure is memorable. She did make great points that he has given much money to Linsey Graham’s campaign as well as other republican runs including against her. BTW he also gave 2.3 mil to Rick Snyder, the Gov of Michigan after the water crisis was well known.  I love that Amy is always saying that we shouldn’t fight amongst ourselves but she just does not have the votes so she needs to go. Bernie got some boos about guns for he seems the softest in that area.

*****

Joe Biden won the South Carolina primary in a big way.

*****

Dick Van Dyke, Sarah Silverman and Public Enemy among others will be at the Bernie Sanders rally in L.A. on March 1.

*****

Just think what the 400 million that Bloomberg spent on his campaign could have done for the debt of the average American.  Instead of a campaign for a presidency that he can’t win, he could have helped so many get a leg up.

*****

I don’t understand why “respected” journalists like Chuck Todd don’t throw W H reps off the set when they disrespect him or his colleagues with fake news jabs.

*****

Bob Moore of Bob’s Red Mill is giving his company away to his employees. Now, that’s a boss!!

*****

Bone, Thugs and Harmony have made a deal with Buffalo Wild Wings to rename themselves Boneless thugs and Harmony. The publicity stunt is to promote boneless wings.

*****

NASA is hiring.

*****

Scotland has made feminine sanitary products free!!

*****

Is this true? There were pigeons in Nevada with MAGA hats glued to their heads??

*****

The final Criminal Minds has aired. CBS often aired double episodes which made it seem like they really wanted to get rid of it. Kirsten Vangsness and Erica Messer wrote the final episode which seemed to give special attention to Penelope and Reid as they were the originals. The other characters seemed a little overlooked but they all had happy endings. Where was Reid’s new girlfriend?  I was hoping to see Shemar Moore but it was great to see Reisgraf and Howell which are old favorites.

*****

Animal Kingdom returns to TNT on May 28.

*****

So there is a bit of a mess with the Roger Stone sentencing. Trump is hopping mad about the long sentence recommendation, Barr is said to be pretending to spar with the Prez, the DOJ is backing down and people are resigning.

*****

R.I.P. Shirley Jean Cade, Robert Conrad,  Katherine Johnson, Lyle Mays, B. Smith, A.E. Hotchner, Bashir Jackson, Ja’net Dubois, Pat Agee, victims of the Molson Coors shooting and Orson Bean.

[eerythingisshaka]

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 3

(“...you really did a number on me.”)

M’Baku x Reader

*Part 1* *Part 2*

Word Count: 3.7K

Plot:  You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking.  Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports.  But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.  

*Previously*

After toweling off, he heads for the bed, covers feeling cool against every inch of his skin.  His body begins to wind down from all of the sexual frustration and Jabari disrespect, but is not used to the extra space in his bed.  He is still mostly on his side, but feels over to yours, imagining your curves as his own personal skyline.  He reaches for his phone to check, but nothing is on it from you, just a couple of memes from the other Jabari clowning him endlessly.  He sets it back down, turning toward where you would be.  He was already remorseful, especially since you were right, but he didn’t want to bar his guys from visiting, that is just rude.  He takes a deep breath, drifting off to hopes of tomorrow being better.  

The irritating jingle of his alarm wakes M’Baku slowly as he reaches to turn it off. The soft yellow glow of the sunrise seeps through the blinds as he awakes.  He turns over to reach to the other side of the bed but his hand drops dramatically on the mattress.  M’Baku’s head flies up in distress only to calm down once reality settles in again.  Your body where you once laid for him to snuggle and grind up on in the morning  is now miles away from him.  M’Baku’s face plummets into his pillow, letting out a frustrated huff.  This was going to be a lot harder than he imagined.  Having the house to himself seemed like it might be relaxing but physical touch is M’Baku’s love language and that is just not possible solo.  He tried that yesterday, and it just isn’t the same with you being there.

Rolling off to the side, he sits for a moment, head hanging, collecting his thoughts. It’s a little after 4 am, so you wouldn’t be up just yet, he surmises but picks his phone up anyway.  No message from you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re still angry, right?  He hopes you will text him anyway, but you were pretty damn pissed so if 10 am comes without an answer, he’ll go ahead.

Rising with a stretch, he goes to the restroom, get dressed and gets some breakfast going.  Heading downstairs, the remnants of last night still lurks in the room.  No time to clean now. he shakes his head to himself, promising that he will talk to his men about treating his space with some damn respect.  Getting the blender ot, he puts together a protein shake to get his body going for the day.  The house is so quiet without you being there.  Even though you didn't have to be up at his work hour, you couldnt sleep without him and sometimes you would blast some old school jams while making him a decent meal before he goes to work.  

Decked out in his Under Armour shirt and Adidas track pants, with his Pumas on, he was ready to get to the gym.  M’Baku has been doing physical training for a few years now.  He dips and dabbles in many different channels of training, but today is just a simple boot camp regime that he advertised to get people right for the summer.  It’s a quick and easy way for people to become interested in his program, and it usually pulls a certain type of clientele.  They come for the workout but stay for him, which he is completely aware of.  But it never becomes more than shameless flirting on their end and once their session is up, it’s done anyway.

Hopping in his SUV, he sets  off to work.  Making his way down a freeway, the trill of a phone call interrupts his Jay Prince jamming.  Your name displays on his dash, causing his heart rate to rise a little, thinking fondly that you still can't rest at this hour.  But also, will you be mad or over last night by now?  M’Baku picks up.

“Hey, whatchu doin up this early, love?”  He asks tentatively.

You say groggily, “I couldn’t sleep much more.  You know I’m always up at this hour but I think I’m nervous about the first day.”

M’Baku nodding says, “Oh, please.  You got this (Y/N).  You come this far, you’re just getting your feet wet.  Once you are in it, you’ll probably be bored to death.”

You smile to yourself thankful for his encouragement.  “Yeah it’ll definitely be bored with all these white folks trying to pep us up in the world of business and commerce.  You headed to work?”

“Yeah, might even be early this time,”  M’Baku says, reaching for his shake taking a sip.

A police car zooms up to M’Baku’s car.  The officer is looking at M’Baku for entirely too long since he is driving on the highway.  M’Baku looks at him through his peripheral.

“Did you get some real food in you instead of just that protein lab created mess?”

M’Baku screwing his face up in a knot, “Yeah, I just got some fruit and a bagel.”

The police officer is still parallel to him.  M’Baku looks over once and the officer has a radio in his hand, talking into it, looking him dead in his eyes.

“We were out of bagels when I left…” you say suspiciously.

M’Baku chuckles nervously, “I am capable of replenishing the fridge, you know?”

M’Baku keeps looking forward, he switches lanes to make the next exit.

You, not convinced, “Riiiight.  Well I’m going to lay a little more until I have to get ready.  Drive safe.”

“I will, go get em.”  But you already hung up.  Nodding to himself, M’Baku says,“Ok, we are still mad.”  Looking in his rearview, the police car is gone.

That wasn’t the worst conversation you all had, but the tension was still there.  M’Baku didn’t want to engage with you about it head on since you are just starting our first work day, but he does not like for arguments between you guys to go unresolved, he faces the issue head on and talks it out.  So for now, you win, but the war ain’t over.

M’Baku pulls up to the gym, Baerobics.  It has a reputation of hiring the best trainers that are the best looking.  It won’t discriminate though, since everyone has their own taste, but it is practically a workout buddy meat market.  M’Baku was a popular choice for clients but he believes in his work so the turnover rate is a little high, but those that stick around are either dedicated or paying for a show, which is still a win-win either way.

Swiping his key card, he makes his way inside.  The receptionist says good morning as he makes his way to his space to set up for his first appointment.  It’s 5:45 am, so he had a little time to look at his emails.  

There’s a knock at his office door, and it’s the receptionist.  

“Hey, how ya been, big guy?”  She asks in a cheery tone.  

“I’m great, Cheryl.  You have a good weekend?”

She rolls her eyes, walking in like the details are too juicy to keep at the door.  She is a brunette, 5 foot nothing, menopausal caucasian.  She talks too much, but is good people.

“I thought you’d never ask.  I told you about my nephew?  Well, he has his graduation coming up.”

“Coming up?  It’s already halfway through May, you didn’t mention it before.”  M’Baku leans in, inquisitively.

“RIGHT?! I didn’t know until now!  He is so secretive, and unsocial, I can’t wrap my head around that guy anymore.  My sister is in shambles, trying to plan out the party on such short notice.  Cake, photographer, venue, inviting family.  I try to tell her to cool it, and keep it small, but she is not a friend of common sense.”

M’Baku discreetly looks at his computer’s clock.  His appointment should be there any minute.

“Well, if you guys need any help, just let me know.  I love decorating, and I could bring a dish or two.  I feel like family, as much as you talk to me about them.”

Cheryl covers her heart, “Ohhh, M’BAKU, you are a saint made for sin!  I’d love to see those hands do delicate work!”  Laughing out loud, landing a hand on his forearm.  She is like an aunt to you, but her jokes always make her infatuations clear.  

The bell at the front door rings faintly in the background, making Cheryl jump up.  

“Oh!  We’re open!  So I will text you later this week about the details, because we could use all the help we can get.  Plus I have someone I’d love for you to meet.”

M’Baku raises his hands in protest, “No, no, no, Cheryl, I have a girlfriend.”

Cheryl turns mouth agape, ��Still?? Wow, she must be a keeper then.  Well, she is friendly, so it may happen regardless, she knows boundaries though.  Thanks again!”

Cheryl leaves, M’Baku rubs his eyes in frustration.  Why did he sign up to help her?  He doesn’t know when it will be and for how long.  He doesn’t even know her people, what if their racist as fuck?

He gets an IM from Cheryl, You have a visitor!  

M’Baku types back a thank you and gets up to look out in his studio.  

“M’BAKU!  Getcho fat ass out here boah!”

He knew that voice anywhere, Akoje made his way to the stude.

“Akoje, what are you doing here man?”

Akoje was binding his locs into a bun on top of his head.  Bouncing on his toes, his tall lanky frame was decked out in some bright neon patterned tights and a one-piece that said “I Need a Baker”  with the face of the referenced singer.

“I’m cashing in on my free trial session, Kukie.”  He says as he drops down to do burpees.

“I gave you, like five of those, which was four too many.” He says through gritted teeth.

Akoje pops back up to standing, “Oh, you keep count?  Well then shit, just help your Jabari out, I have no means of training.  Look at me, I am flab and bones.”

He turns sideways, practically doing a backbend to show off a non-existent belly.

“Ayye, go on with all of that, man. You should have had a membership of your own now.  You could get your steps in by cleaning up my place for the mess you all made.”

Akoje lifts his hands in innocence, “Hey, that had nothing to do with me, you know Ogoro is on his see-food diet.  We told him to slow up, but luckily the toilet wasn’t too far.”

M’Baku claps his hands in excitement, “And another thing!  What the fuck happened in my bath-”

The door to his studio creeks open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, traffic was pretty crazy today.”

M’Baku’s real first client comes in.  Her yellow bone body, looked like gold melted into some hot pink fashion nova workout gear that does not hide a single aspect of her figure, which itself is nothing short of an advertisement for being someone’s trophy wife.

She lays down her bag and water, and Akoje in entranced.

“Ok, scrap the training, lemme be your assistant today.”

“No.”

“Come on!  I been wondering about becoming a trainer anyway.”

“No.”

“I will pay YOU to let me do this.”

M’Baku pauses, then hold out his hand, “Gimme $20.”

Akoje unzips a side pocket on his legging and slaps it in M;Baku’s hand, looking back at the client Birdman style.

M’Baku pockets the money, “Now get out.”

Akoje looks back incredulously, “Man, I gave you the money!”

The client looks at them cautiously, then back to her phone.

M’Baku starts loudly, “Yes sir, thank you for catching up on your sessions, but I am with someone at the moment so please ait in the lobby until we are done here.”  He takes Akoje by the arm and leads him out the door.  

Once outside Akoje points back at M’Baku saying, “You ain’t shiiiiit.  You better give me some details later!”  Right before M’Baku closes the door.

M’Baku turns back to his client, “I am sorry about that, forgive me.  I am M’Baku, I will be your Baerobics instructor this week.”

The client giggles holding out a manicured hand, “No problem, it was kind of cute to see.  You all cousins or something?” she says with an accent from somewhere South.

“Yeah, we are.  A little too close in relation if you ask me.”

“Oh cut him a break.  I wasn’t sure who was my trainer so maybe he should consider it.  I’m Kenie by the way.”  She flashes a Colgate, dimpled smile that caught M’Baku a little by surprise as she puts her hand out for a firm shake.

“Kenie?”  M’Baku repeats.

“Yeah, like Kenny from South Park, just spelled different.  It’s short for Kennedy, but my friends call me Kenie.”

“Oh, ok.  Well then Kennedy it is.”  He says, before chortling out loud.  Kenie made a face, pushing him at his chest, as he feigns injury.

“My goodness, you are stronger than you look,  Ms. Kenie. How could you?”

“Yeah and you are only soft in feelings, I see.”  She says, shaking her hand like she just punched a brick wall.   Kenie was very charismatic so far but M’Baku knew how to keep it casual and professional.

“So let’s just go over to my office and do a questionnaire about you dietary and training needs”

He pulls out a chair for her as she arches her butt out to sit.  Maybe she can’t help it, but M’Baku kept his gaze averted.  He makes his way to the other side, her eyes follow his body until he is seated, and they get started.

M’Baku starts his introduction, “So, I like to start my sessions just asking what your goals are, and what you’re looking to improve on during these sessions.”

She crosses her arms under her breasts, looking off into space, “Well, summer is approaching, so you know bikinis and pool parties are happening real, real quick.  So I just want to make sure I’m toned up, some definition on my stomach,”  she looks down feeling her flat tummy, “And get my arms right, legs tight, all that.”  

M’Baku looks her over as she points to her ‘problem areas’, “Yeah, you have a good foundation in your midsection, I can tell.  But there’s plenty to do that’ll get you toned, just have to mostly watch your diet to make sure it appears.”

Kenie rolls her eyes, “Ugh, I know!  I just love my carbs though, it’s a struggle.”

M’Baku chuckles, “Yeah I love them too, sweets as well, but it’s about moderation and discipline to get the results.  You won’t have to give them up too long though, I don’t believe in completely abstaining from what you crave.”

Kenie leans forward, hands on her knees, biting her lip looking over his desk slightly.  “I know, I agree completely.”  M’Baku was not sure if they were talking about sweets and carbs anymore.

Clearing his throat, “Ok, so we can do some little warm up exercises just to see where your fitness level is.”

Back in his studio, M’Baku requests her to do some squats, watching her form.  She is hesitant every time she goes into it.

M’Baku approaches her, “Try to keep your back straight as you go down.”  She nods, attempting again.

“Not quite like that.  Carry your chest high and try again.”  He puts his hand to her upper back as she goes down.

M’Baku touches under her bicep, “Arms up and lean back a bit further.”

She looks like she is fighting back a smile, but she turns into a pro at it after a few rounds.

“Good, again.”  M’Baku commands.

She breaths and goes.

“Perfect, now lower.”

She goes, little lower for two rounds.

“Ok, I think you can go lower.”

She does, smiling broadly now.  “I can definitely do that…”

“Yeah, that’s it! Good. Ok stop.  That was great!”

She smiles, fanning herself,  “No thank you!  Seeing that in the mirror was a treat.”

“Yeah, your form really locked in once we got going.”

“Mhmm...once I get going, it’s hard to stop, especially when it feels good, you know?”  She says with an odd expression

M’Baku nods looking away for a second, “Ok, now we’ll move on to some ab workouts.”

M’Baku gave her a full body workout: Abs, arms, lower body, cardio, stretching.  She didn't seem to be a stranger to the gym, but she may have been nervous because everytime M’Baku came close to target specific parts of her body that she needed to watch, she really listened and seemed renewed with purpose.

“Thanks again for the session, you really did a number on me.”  She takes his hand.

“No problem at all, you are a great student!  So is it the same time tomorrow?”

“Sure!  I may be walking funny, but I’m sure you’re used to that effect on people.”

As she left, M’Baku went to his phone, checking to see a snap from you.  It’s a picture of a meal captioned ‘Continental breakfast=TRASH’  He smiled, sending her an SMH text.  Back in his office, his studio door opens and AKoje bursts in, “Yo, that baby girl you were bending over and shit is having car troubles, you got jumper cables?”

M’Baku goes down to survey the scene.  Kenie is long faced before she see’s M’Baku approaching.  

“Hey, M’Baku, I am so sorry.  Your cousin offered your help before I could figure things out.  You don't have to, but I just can't get the damn thing to start.”

“Yeah, lemme get the cables.”  

M;Baku pulls his car in next to hers and pops the hood so start the process.  A couple of turns and she finally has power again.

Looking relieved, she yells out the window, “You are a godsend!  Thank you thank you!”

M’Baku unhooks the cables and comes over to her window, “It was nothing, we can't have you stranded on your first day.”

“I will have to repay you!”

“No, don’t worry about that.”

“Please!  I got you, I won’t take no for an answer.  I’ll think of something.  But for now, I will see you tomorrow”

She pulls off and Akoje is slow clapping.

“What in Hanuman’s name are you doing?”

Akoje stops and laughs, “My my, I should be asking you the same thing!  What was that?!”

M’Baku is confused, “You told me she needed help, so I came to do that.”

Akoje nods, “Mhm, and she is going to come back to do you, trust me.”

“Ayye!  What kind of language is that.  You know that’s not going to happen.  You shoot your shot, ok?”

“Oh I plan to trust, but I actually don't know.  I’m smart but no psychic, but a rocket scientist isn’t needed to judge that she wants that ass man.”

“I'm not stupid.  She isn't the first to come on to me, if she even was, I never entertain that, you know.”

“Yeah except she isn’t ugly or crazy acting.  I’m just telling you to watch your back. As far as handling all that ass, I know she could use your help getting real loooow, and DEEP into those exercises.”  Akoje says with throaty bass in his voice.

M’Baku brushed off Akoje’s talk.  M’Baku is as wild about you as you are about him, so no instagram model is going to take his heart that easily.

Later that day, after going through his appointments, he starts to head home, exhausted and sweaty to the nth degree.  A call comes through on his dash, Mama.

M’Baku clears his throat before picking up.  When his mother calls, he never knows if it is to say hello, how are you, or to cut him down to a nub for not calling or coming around more often and not appreciating her.

“Hello, Mama, what’s up?”  M’Baku says in a cheery voice.

“What’s up?  Is that how you greet you mother?  Try that again.” she says sourly.

M’Baku rolls his eyes, “How are you doing today, mama?”

“Oh, I am doing great, Kuku!”  Renewed with a bubbly personality.  “What are you doing now, my son?”

“I am headed back to the house, probably relaxing for the evening.”

“Ohhh, you work so hard all the time.  You deserve it.  But don’t act like you are 80 years old, you have it so much better than me or your father did at your age.”

M’Baku’s mother was pretty good at building up to a compliment and adding a criticism at the exit door.

“Yes, I know mama.   Did you need something?” he says exasperatedly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.  Well, I could use some help with this new shelf your father bought but will not read the instructions for.  So now it is some abstract art piece in the middle of my floor.”

“Ok, I can do that.  Maybe I’ll come by this weekend to do it?”

He hears her kiss her teeth, “Eh, you super busy this week or something?  Does the girl have you running around for her, waiting at her hands and feet?”

M’Baku shakes his head, accelerating, “No, mama, she is out of town this week for work.”

“OH!!” she exclaims.  “Then you should take me out!  It’s been so long since you and I had mother-son time alone.  How about that?”

M’Baku thought about this for a beat.  It had been a while, not because he didn't like to see his mother but it’s so busy working and taking care of your own problems before adding on someone else's.  They used to get into some heated discussion over this, especially since being with you, but she seems to have adjusted for the most part.

“Ok, that sounds good then.  I’ll call you when I have the time.”

“Ok, Kuku.  Muah, I love you!”

“Love you too, mama.”

Making it back inside, he is greeted yet again with the mess left from the day before.  Yet again, he is too tired to even deal.  Whipping his shirt off, he adds it to the pile of mess and makes his way upstairs to shower.  As the water ran down his head to his body, he thought about his day.  He will have to cancel with Cheryl because of his mom, so for once, thank Hanuman for her calling.  Getting his washcloth lathered, he worked on his chest and torso.  And that girl, Kenie.  Something seemed different about her than others he had seen.  Neck and face done, he works his sensitive areas and crevices.  Clearly she flirted, but that wasn’t it.  She was really interesting for some reason.  He turns the cold water up some to rinse off, shaking his head as the water cascaded down.  

Then the thought that he hadn’t heard from you all day came into his mind, so he hops out of the shower and makes his way to towel off and goes to the bedroom.  Picking his phone off the charge, he looks at his messages.  Nothing, not a single text or missed call from you.  It’s only 6 pm so your day might not be quite over yet, but you send a text to her just asking what’s up.  Walking away he gets a text almost immediately from you.  

Yeah, fine but we need to talk. 

*Part 4*

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

The Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones  @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri

[seashellsoldier]

“Kill Switch” by Adam Jentleson

“The Senate is so broken that it is easy to write it off as irredeemable. We are now at the endpoint of a process that started over 150 years ago. In the nineteenth century, obstructionist minorities invented the filibuster to give themselves the power to defy the majority. In the twentieth century, under the banner of ‘unlimited debate,’ southerners made the filibuster into a supermajority hurdle. In the postwar period and into the twenty-first century, Lyndon Johnson and Harry Reid created leadership structures capable of making the formerly leaderless institution march in lockstep behind a leader’s agenda. And in recent years, Mitch McConnell paired those tools of control with the filibuster to give a reactionary, WWAC [wealthy, white, anti-choice conservatives] minority veto power over everything the majority attempts to accomplish. In our era of polarization and negative partisanship, conservatives can use McConnell’s playbook in perpetuity with no fear of political consequences, and every expectation of reward. The outlook for the Senate, and for our democracy, is grim” (pp. 269-70).

Capital Hill insider Adam Jentleson gives the reader a bit more depth and detail into how the Legislative branch of the United States has become what it’s become over the last 150 years, but most especially over the past 40 years—a militantly tribalistic tit-for-tat kindergarten pandering to special interests through negative partisanship, but this book (and its 120 pages of endnotes) doesn’t give me the confidence that the system can be fixed. I’m a Nobody, and naturally time will tell. Most of you reading this already know the system is horribly corrupted; otherwise, you’re praying at the altar of Fox News, or Breitbart, or InfoWars, or One America, or the alternate-reality game of QAnon, or some other shameless propaganda machine for either filthy rich libertarians, or easily brainwashed plebs. At the time of this writing, according to The Brennan Center for Justice (https://www.brennancenter.org/), there are currently 165 voter restriction bills proposed in 33 states since after NOV 2020. The GOP is doubling down on the game with overt discrimination laws that impact the poor and “people of color” most of all. As Charles M. Blow declared in his manifesto The Devil You Know, the ending of systemic racism begins at the local level, the state level, and our congressional leaders. Jentleson illustrates how the Senate has become the “kill switch” on so much progressive movement. The For the People Act will help curtail draconian state laws while “the Left” mobilizes the marginalized to stand up and rail against their oppression, ousting the bought-out bigots and overwhelming the “redneck” vote clinging to their unread bibles and well-oiled assault rifles.

“According to a 2019 New York Times analysis of data collected by the Manifesto Project, a group that tracks party-policy positions around the globe, the modern Republican Party is more extreme than Britain’s Independence Party and France’s National Rally party, both of which are far-right populist parties that verge on neofascism. Ideological polarization has been asymmetric, with the Republican Party moving much farther right than the Democratic Party has moved to the left; the same study found that the Democratic Party still aligns closely with mainstream liberal parties” (p. 152).

Of course this couldn’t happen without large rivers of opaque money pouring in after Citizens United, and ranks of selfish, racist ideologues marching through such “think tanks” as the John Birch Society and the Federalist Society, the Tea Party being bankrolled by Koch Industries, and of course the rise of demagogic Trump who, supported by so many duplicitous sycophants, toyed with clown-car authoritarianism. When Jentleson says the future of this country is grim, I painfully agree. Trumpism isn’t going away quietly, and the delusional GOP has been undermined by its own power-mad mania, desperately grasping for any scheme that will keep them in power. The entire political system needs restructuring. Jentleson gives his advice, which seems naively optimistic (a parliamentary system of open debate?), so I’ll jump aboard his train of thought and offer my own wish list:

Eliminate the Electoral College System (one citizen, one ballot, one vote—majority wins); make Election Day a federal holiday; create a simple, secure, and uniform voting system that every citizen has access to (digital means can work); have an accountability system in place for Congressional corruption and define corruption in lawful terms, with just punishments to include imprisonment; have every 18-year-old register to vote, like the Draft but obviously for everyone; grant statehood to D.C., Puerto Rico, and American Samoa while we’re at it; reorganize the congressional system to better reflect the population (not just 2 senators per state); overturn Citizens United and limit how much money goes into elections; have congressional bills be simple, one-topic requests, not convoluted tomes packed with pork, waste, and graft; if we’re REALLY wishing here I’d also say eliminate political parties altogether and let’s vote on individuals based on his/her resume, tax records, and bank statements—not the mindless manure that slithers through their lips and whatever catchy slogans they concoct (congressional folks spend HALF THEIR TIME working on the next election cycle—how about they work 90% on their f-ing jobs legislating?; it looks like almost $14 BILLION was spent on the 2020 elections—what if that money was better served going into K-12 education, or a stronger, cheaper healthcare system, or a college-for-all concept? . . . ugh, I’m free-falling down a bottomless rabbit-hole. Grim.

Jelani Cobb of The New Yorker highlights the likely schism impacting the GOP and illustrating the ephemeral nature of political parties overall (https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/03/15/what-is-happening-to-the-republicans). Sam Levine of The Guardian gives a good telling of Jim Crow 2.0 right now (https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2021/mar/24/democracy-under-attack-america-us-voting-rights-republicans). Nothing is guaranteed in this era, and we cannot relent in the combat to come.

[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

[swampgallows]

Final thoughts on Bright under cut (contains spoilers)

As far as a mainstream film I can imagine a lot of people not being on board with it. Urban fantasy as a genre is pretty niche as it is which is essentially why more urban fantasy probably hasn’t been made. It’s hard to balance the concept of magic with the reality of technology. In my opinion Bright had a bit of The Dark Knight syndrome, I guess; I personally thought The Dark Knight was insufferable and hokey as hell, saved solely by Heath Ledger’s Joker which, I think if it were a less-than-stellar performance, would have shown the film’s true colors. I can’t go too dark in the realm of superheroes or fantasy because it’s ultimately a very lighthearted thing, and it has to take root in reality for it to pull off darkness well. So, to me, The Dark Knight felt like just an everyday crime drama/action film a la James Bond or Bourne Identity but with two technicolor off-the-wall characters thrown in. Solely Two-Face could have kept it in the realm of being believable (something like American Psycho, a man going off the rails), but having the Joker and Christian Bale’s hilarious throaty Batman just swung the pendulum too far in the other direction. Like, it’s dudes in spandex and literal clown makeup; Ledger’s portrayal of such a concept as disturbing rather than admirable (as we tend to view costumed vigilantes within the superhero genre) is what saved the film. 

So I’m getting a bit of that with Bright. Telling a story of discrimination with fantasy races as if we live in a post-racist society is clumsy at best and violent at worst. Jakoby’s story is essentially that of the “whitewashed” POC straddled between worlds: not orc enough for other orcs (not “blooded”, clan-less, round-toothed) but not human enough to fit in with humans. I’m watching this as a white woman, so while I might identify with orcs in fantasy as their being outcasts, how a person of color relates to this story can vastly differ. Orcs as a construction of white fantasy (Western, European, however you want to phrase it) are riddled with racist undertones (and sometimes overtones) as it is, so in the context of the real world you can end up with some echo chamber racism in a setting like Bright’s. Orcs predominantly portrayed as gangsters living in the hood, shown as existing only in seedy or “ghetto” type environments with almost clownish stereotypical baggy clothing, jerseys, and chains, was heinously tone deaf. And the “cuerpo” jeers of the Altamira gangsters just felt like the writing of someone who believes in “trickle down racism”, that oppressed groups can be “racist” against one another rather than all subject to the ruling class. Additionally, it seemed like a shoddy way for the writer to absolve himself by saying “see, orcs are even LOWER than humans. Even dark-skinned humans! Because Will Smith is black and he’s a successful cop and also here is a latino and an asian cop...who is a WOMAN, and also he has a WHITE WIFE RACISM IS OVER”

I’m still reeling from just watching the film so I’m still in a bit of the afterglow of just having a movie MADE in this genre. And with an orc as a MAIN character, not off to the side or played for laughs as a dopey peon, etc., it made me very happy. But “positive orcish representation” only puts points in the fun meter and has no actual validity or importance; the real world representation lodged quite a wedge in my suspension of disbelief. It was hard to go along for the ride seeing actual places in L.A. that I visit in reality (like... was that rolling shot of all the tents on San Julian Street necessary?) being treated like props for “orcish oppression”. It’s hard to summarize my feelings on this particular subject, but ultimately this is not the time or era to be making a buddy cop film, truly, and the trope of the cookie cutter thug is tiresome. But that’s probably why I don’t watch these kinds of movies to begin with: the expectations are low, the story is the same, and it’s just a vehicle for shoot-outs, car chases, and combat scenes. 

Women in this movie were nonexistent. Just accessories or one-dimensional plot devices. And that incestuous “sister” shit always gets to me; I dunno about you, but I’ve never stroked my sister’s face and hair and given her nose kisses while straddling her. Who the fuck is that for? Tikka was rolling around like a damn e-tard half the time, completely nonverbal and helpless, fridged-but-not-really, and pretty much just inconsequential. Did not pass the Bechdel test.

I wish more of a backstory had been fleshed out. We heard a lot about the Shield of Light but we never saw them in action. We were told stories about “what happened 2,000 years ago” but there weren’t even flashbacks or any residual effect of those except the existence of the wand. And where is the wand now? How do we know it’s safe? How do we actually know the steel-blue-haired elf man who apparently had no name except that he was the “Magic Fed” elf can keep it safe and that he doesn’t want to bring about the Darklord? How do we know the Darklord was real? There were apparently “fanatics” but if it was that influential of an event, would there not be more evidence? We have human artifacts that are tens of thousands of years old; 2,000 years is nothing in comparison to Niaux cave paintings or Sumerian cuneiform. 

If this movie was trying to be Shadowrun in terms of urban fantasy, then it failed to understand what even I, with only passing exposure to it, know: it’s for nerds, and nerds love knowing shit. That means the more background information and minutiae, the better. Having a superficial story driven by tropes or special effects rather than by fantasy means it will ultimately flop. We live in the here and now; so focus on what we don’t have! There were little things: elves like shopping, orcs have great sense of smell and remote understanding of human facial expressions, and fairies are apparently... pests? But beyond that, the story was just about a bunch of people. The point was supposed to be “orcs are people too”, which is a shit benchmark, really, when the people going in to a movie about urban fantasy have already accepted this tacitly. The whole point is that they are “people too”, but they’re different. Nobody is interested in aliens because they’re gung-ho about meeting tunicates from another atmosphere; we want to meet people: conscious, sentient beings who think like us but are not us, who have their own culture and behaviors and mannerisms and so on. That is part of the huge appeal of orcs, to me. They’re everything I’m not, but of course I see them as sentient people; not better or worse, but different.

So, really, the “message” of this movie is lost on everyone: its stereotypes are insensitive to actual oppressed groups and its bullying of the humanoids we came to see is disheartening, insulting, and annoying for those who are already initiated with the genre. They should be working side by side because that’s what we came to see, not spending two solid hours treating the fantasy races like shit just for a shitty “human after all” sentiment. Where’s Bright 2 so I can watch a human and orc getting taco cart burritos together, elves and orcs and humans all moshing at an underground metal show, and Ward and Jakoby actually solving some real shit together instead of Ward making his partner a punching bag?

Bright missed a lot of very major opportunities to bring urban fantasy to life. Hellboy II’s single scene in the troll marketplace provided more magical backdrop than Bright’s entire running time (a statement I am unintentionally echoing from a film critic on rottentomatoes; but let it be known that Hellboy II is one of my favorite films purely for the perfect urban fantasy themes, a genre I felt at home in before I even knew there was such a thing). That being said, it was still a lot of fun and it’s definitely worth a watch if you’re even vaguely into orcs or the urban fantasy genre, and also I will protect Nicholas Jakoby with my life. 

[neoraven]

NWA TNA Episode 7-8, New Champs

NWA TNA Episode 7, continued TNA Asylum, Nashville, TN

I fast-forwarded past the Disco Inferno talk segment, and I regret nothing.

Stretcher Match Scott Hall vs Jeff Jarrett

Hall brings a navy green army style stretcher, and he rushes Double J on the entrance ramp to start things off. They brawl over toward the announce table, over, and behind it, through the ring, and back up the entrance way. They're spilling backstage with little use or mention of the stretcher. Jerry Lynn is trying to walk out in street clothes with his little shitty suitcase and Jeff Jarrett gets thrown into him, knocking him through a door. They make another long lap through and behind the crowd before Hall finally gets back to the ring and gets the stretcher. Jarrett uses it as a weapon to take control, making a bridge on the outside and ramming Hall into it a few times. After trading a few different irish whips into the stretcher in the turnbuckle, Hall hits the Razor's Edge for 2, interrupted by Truth, who is interrupted by Monty Brown, and it becomes a clown car of Jerry Lynn, AJ Styles, Don Harris, The New Church interfering and fighting each other as Jarrett and Hall trade very slow nearfalls until barely answering a 10 count. Hall knocks the ref out with a stretcher shot, which truly makes no sense because he just ignored about a dozen different run ins. Ricky The Dragon runs down and induces Jarrett into hitting himself with a chairshot. When Hall goes for the chair, Ricky tries to stop him, and just leads to a Stroke on the chair for Jeff Jarrett Wins, LOL after 12 minutes.

* Christ that was dire. There was at the very least a little bit of fun with Jerry Lynn getting hit randomly backstage, and then the clown car of interference (No joke, at least 10 different people). But the opening brawl had very little action or wrestling moves, and then they skipped to the big main event ending like it was a 30 minute epic, without any of the middle part. Whatever.

NWA TNA Episode 8

We're back at the TNA Asylum, and this one has some high hopes considering we have the NWA Title, X Division Title, and Dupp Cup up for grabs.

Spanish Announce Team vs The Flying Elvises

We got The Maximos and Amazing Red against Estrada, Siaki, and Yang on the other. We start with a big fun brawl. Siaki and his teammates eventually take control under his direction. He takes down Red one on one and eventually gets frustrated with his teammates' dancing, ignoring their tags and hitting his own stuff in the ring. It doesn't take long for Estrada and Yang to get frustrated and leave the corner to join commentary. Yang is doing god's work on commentary, calling Siaki "All Shook Up in the head". They spend a long time trading out quick tags and double teams every time Sonny starts to get the upper hand. Finally, the Maximos hit the Spanish Fly into the Infra-Red, and the other two Elvises rush back into the ring to take control with a flurry of moves. Code Red starts a series of near falls, then Estrada reverses a second Spanish Fly attempt, leaving Red alone to take a top rope combo. Siaki steals the pin from his teammates, continuing the discord after 12 minutes.

** There was some great action, but the part with Siaki alone just seemed to drag. They also still won't pull the trigger on breaking up the group, even though Siaki has singles star written all over him, with the crowd already popping big for nearly anything he does.

The announcers go over the triple main event. Also, just saying for the record, Ed Ferrara is still here on commentary for some reason. Tenay shows a video interview with Apolo.

NWA World Heavyweight Title Match Ken Shamrock [c] vs Ron "The Truth" Killings

Ricky The Dragon Steamboat comes down to commentary and/or to be a ringside official. Shamrock starts in control with some strikes and submissions, but eventually Truth gets free, and hits his trademark flip and splits dodge to get control briefly. They go back and forth, with Truth escaping his submissions quickly to the ropes. Ken botches a slow hurricanrana and comes up in the ankle lock, but Truth escapes and gets dumped to the outside. They show Monty Brown and The New Church watching on, then the security chief moving to the entrance ramp to sit in between them and the match. It's a little bit of a nice touch distracting from the slow, plodding match. Shamrock starts getting frustrated at Truth hanging around, and dumps him to the outside. Apolo rushes the ring past security, starting some chaos near the entrance ramp. Truth ducks an Apolo superkick that hits Shamrock, then pulls the champ into the ring, hits the Truth or Consequences (Stun Gun?) to win the title after 9 minutes.

*1/2 Kind of a dreadful match, but an amazing result. Shamrock was beyond boring as champion, and the clown car interference was as sloppy as usual.

After cleaning up the world title match, Ricky The Dragon comes out to call out Apolo and finally give him a chance to talk. Jarrett interrupts him before he gives Apolo the title shot he wants so bad. He claims reverse discrimination to a stunned Dragon. After a brief exchange, they're doing a number one contender's match, with Dragon as the special guest referee.

Mostly fastfowarded through the Dupp Cup Disco Inferno and Ed Ferrara heavy segment, as well as a boring Mike Tenay and Monty Brown interview.

First Blood Match Malice vs Ron or Don Harris

They start brawling on the outside and Father James Mitchell shows up for commentary. They trade chair shots as the ref hovers, checking for blood.  They go all around the arena until going up the ramp, where Slash appears with an ice pick, going after Harris. He loses the ice pick and Harris uses it to open up Slash's forehead as James Mitchell looks on, herding them back toward the ring. Harris fights off Mitchell and Slash, dumping the ceremonial blood on the leader. However, back in the ring, Malice takes control and opens up Harris with a chair, ending this in 6 minutes.

1/2* A dumb mess, and not in the fun, entertaining way.

Taylor Vaughn and Bruce get into it backstage and start an evening gown match. AJ Styles and Low Ki also brawl through the area.

Number One Contender Match Apolo vs Jeff Jarrett ; Referee - Ricky The Dragon Steamboat

They start out slow, and Ricky quickly steps in to stop a Jarrett closed fist. After another tie up, he stops Apolo from doing the same. Apolo keeps control with some power moves and agility, despite getting distracted by Steamboat's tight officiating. Jarrett regains control using the steps on the outside. He opens up his forehead, and slams him into the announce table, but Steamboat stops him before he can use a chair and pushes them back in the ring. Jarrett keeps control despite getting in trouble with the closed fist over and over, getting the bloodied Apolo in a long, boring Figure 4. He fires up, and eventually drops Jarrett with a big superkick that gets Jarrett to 2 point foot-on-the-ropes. Another big German Suplex seems like only goes for two when Jarrett gets the arm up, but Ricky counts three…. On Apolo! What a geek!

**3/4 Jarrett Wins, LOL, but it actually makes sense and tells a decent little story. Wish it wasn't burying the talented Apolo, but oh well, gotta get Jarrett over!

Ricky gets his security losers to drag an enraged Apolo to the back. Ricky gets on the mic and gives Jarrett "The Truth" as a tag team partner vs the tag champs next week.

Evening Gown Match Bruce [c] vs Taylor Vaughn

Actually, no thank you. Bruce retained and then showed off his naked body in a thong anyways. Let's move on.

X Division Title Match AJ Styles [c] vs Jerry Lynn vs Low Ki

They start out a little cautious, then double team the champion, taking AJ out before turning on each other. It's hard to keep up with each move, but they're going at each other at warp speed pretty much. They keep hitting planned and unplanned double team moves to each other back to back. There are a couple good nearfalls and triple pinning predicaments. Low Ki gets his dragon sleeper finisher on both opponents in turn before it gets broken up. After another series of nearfalls, they do a tower of doom spot with Jerry Lynn unable to put away either opponent afterward. Lynn stops a Styles Clash attempt, then breaks up Low Ki's Dragon Sleeper in the corner. They start going for each other's finishers now, as AJ kicks out of Low Ki's Styles Clash, then Low Ki out of Lynn's Ki Krusher, and finally, Lynn out of AJ's Cradle Piledriver. Right after, Low Ki goes flipping into the ref, then out of the ring. AJ and Lynn collide in the ring in a double cross body, leaving everyone down and out. The champ grabs a chair and takes out Jerry Lynn before going to the top. Low Ki slips in for a quick pin, staying on top of Jerry Lynn through AJ's move, to steal the X championship after 15 minutes or so.

****1/4 Amazing match, showing the best of the X division and all of NWA TNA in general.

Jarrett and Truth yell at each other in the back while AJ and Lynn brawl in the ring still after the title match. Truth and Jarrett brawl to the entrance way as the announcers put over the two volatile teams.

[tristanlovesthequeen]

Mnnemenic Cathexis

Tristan Arcelona

Nicole Archer, Critical Theory

3/3/17

William Kentridge’s show at MOMA on the seventh floor was amazing.  I walked in not knowing what to expect.  I have seen William Kentridges art in the past but never in a walk-in installation form.  I knew that the installation was supposed to invoke a sense of melancholia, however, I brought my own headset.  

This changed the environment for me. The sounds that were going on outside of my head I could identify as explosive, loud booms and trombones.  I added the soundtrack of Kero Kero Ichiban, which are sweet melodies from Japan.  

The kinetic sculpture in the center of the room was well built and fluid, representing perhaps the inner workings of a clock.  There were projections on the walls, videos of William Kentridge in his physical form, and dancers in a second line like form.  The march reminded me of Kara walker’s silhouettes. And the Botan death march of the Phillipines.  

The modern dancers involved in the performance, were somehow syncopating with the rhythm I brought in my headphones.  The performance also used playlike stylistic elements, in which people were hiding under the table and emerging like clowns from a clown car.  There was no color in the film, only greyscale.  

There were hangman’s steeples doing dances, which I am only identifying as such now, however they looked more abstract in person.  They represented stick figure-like bodies doing the robot.  There were horns on stilts which I expected to be speakers emanating sounds however, they were found objects, possibly alluding to satellite forms.  

The continuing projections were animations from William Kentridge, white on black background, alluding to radio signals projecting into outer space.  I remember words revolving on a horizontal axis reminding me of the Universal film logo, or the beginning of an old news broadcast.  I read the words Sharon, which can also be pronounced as Chiron, which is the forgotten planet.  

Chiron lies outside of Pluto, or so I think, it might be a moon or meteor that revolves around the Sun.

The dancers were doing flips and acrobatic movements, high kicks with flowing drapery, bald women like beautiful sculptures.  The videos reminded me of Negritude films from Paris in the 1920’s.  Josephine Baker meets New York contemporary dance or Jacob’s pillow.  William was marching on a side scroll. He was using chairs to act as obstacles or stairs or elevators.  He was assisting a woman with the chair, helping her find a seat.  This might be a symbol of trying to make amends with the apartheid system in South Africa.  

Another portion of the film was a South African couple doing the dance of love.  The man attempting to kiss as the woman looked away in pride or disinterest.  The woman forgiving and jumping up straddling the man in a warm embrace.

Every so often I would check back in with where I was sitting in the room, see who entered, where they would sit, and observe the perpetual motion of the accordion-like wood and metal sculpture moving silently.

Sigmund Freud influenced much of the Surrealist manifesto including the works of Salvador Dali.  Salvador then went onto create a style which he named, paranoiac, amplifying many of the negative undertones of the subconscious psyche.  I believe Sigmund and he, wrote to each other very often.  

William Kentridge views the installation as the prophecy of time.  The machine in the center of the room represents the human lung.  The rhythm it represents is the rhythm of syncopation of the human body in the realm of time.  He also views the animations of the signals flowing out of the earth into space as the representation that we all are constantly broadcasting ourselves.  We are wound at birth and in the end we unwind.

The sets onscreen are made of cardboard, and in real time, the cones represent sound.  The concept of time is one that can be broken, like a ming vase, reset and reformed, we can go backwards, forwards wherever we want and sometimes it is misshapen.  Time and the broadcasts we send keep going until they reach the black hole at the end of the universe.

Sigmund Freud, disavows the theories of prior psychologists in their efforts to say that anything psychical (what people think or believe) is completely conscious or on purpose.  He believes that the practice of hypnotism and dream psychology disproves that node of belief.  Consciousness is a “transitory” state of being, meaning that it is free flowing. What lies beneath, can become evident at any time.  There are also subconscious thoughts that stay buried.  The subconscious thoughts that do not become evident, are because they are held in check by another force.  This is described as the state of being repressed or resisted to being made evident.  There are three states of consciousness.  Unconscious, preconscious, and conscious. Unconscious is what we suppress.  Preconscious is the free flowing thoughts. Conscious is the transitory state between all three.  

The ego, contributes to those three. It is the ruler of the sexual motives, the motivating factors for living, the raison d'etre.  The repressed, can also be what one desires.  The abject, can also be what one needs to persevere, and can also change onto something proper.  We can also describe the balance or imbalance of all of these three as mental illness or mental stability.

The ego is sometimes concerned with representing exactly what we have repressed.  There may be many unconscious desires in the ego, unconscious desires sometimes lose their importance, sometimes they represent things that we cannot achieve in person, in other words it is fantasy.  Sometimes our focus is upon a nmemic residue, the traces of a memory can be similar to a hallucination.  The shift from nmemic cathexis to a perception element can separate the conscious from the unconscious.

Freud places importance on the memory of the auditory experience.  Sometimes an auditory cue indicates a hallucinatory experience.  Our consciousness is ambiguous.  We can only surface our unconsciousness by making these ideas known in the real world. The question is how these ideas can be represented in physical form.  In an artist's vision, we can represent these ideas on a page or in a painting without actually acting on these feelings. Once again we are in a realm of fantasy.  

William Kentridge is trying to reform time, by acting as a white male helping a young South African girl. The way this is represented is metaphorically.  The sense of morality coming from the white man stems from the sense of morals that is under the umbrella of the Superego.     This projection is an ideal, it is a broadcast that expands into the universe that will hopefully influence a generation.  This idea of eliminating racialization is bringing the idea of apartheid to the forefront in William Kentridges piece.  In Freudian terms, he is bringing the unconscious historical racial discrimination of black skinned people in South African society into the conscious realm.  It is important to talk about Kentridge's piece in this way because people, mostly everyone, and especially those of “other” or “exotified” races, in other words “non-white,” are descriminated against, but we are not sure why.  This can be because of bias, or even biological strife embedded in our genes.  Currently there has been a social uprising in South Africa, when the rest of the globe had thought that aphartheid had disappeared.  It seems that the more we evolve, the more everything remains the same.  Art is there to influence the way people think and how we interact with one another on a daily basis.  These ideas can manifest themselves in immediate action, however art is there to influence the way people think in the long run.  

Freuds idea of fetishism is the idea of substitution.  In other words, any object of desire sits in place of his or her own genitalia.  William Kentridge, while both idealising black fashion and culture is also showing his appreciation and his own fetish for black skin.  Not that there is anything particularly wrong with this attraction between a white man and a black woman, however what Freud presupposes is that this is just the tip of the iceberg.  

Aphartheid is a metaphor for the separation of us all.  What is the subconscious is the desire to be separated from his own people.  On the exterior is the avoidance of negative contact.  On different levels these desires become inflated or conflated.  In avoidding these things sometimes they become supressed.  Supression leads to anxiety around a subject.  It also inflates miniscule narratives.  It skews meaning and reappears in dreams or in other people skulls.  These thoughts become viral or memetic.  These preconcieved myths lead to a preconsciousness. Kentridge attempts to make a tomfoolery of the image of the structure used to hang people.  The images appear as breakdancing robo-structures.  If we can simplify these things they lose their meaning.  Structurally they are breakdancing stickmen, historically and culturally, Kentridge allows us to forget this part.

If Freud were here, he would say the dancing stick men are supressions created by the super ego to hold the id in place.  He may accuse Kentridge of wanting to hang his female, black, counterpart, however, the superego represses this latent desire and requires us to say “no way.”  If the id is controlled by what we have seen in the past, historical visions, biological, and cultural predispositions, as well as how we appear to ourselves and to others, then the super ego is necessary.  This may also mean that we cannot always get what we want.  It may also mean that Kentridge's dream of broadcasting ourselves is true.

Humans experience positive and negative emotions, sadness, melancholia, disappointment, struggle, strife, failure, and all of this is hard to surmount.  If we are broadcasting this side of ourselves, the fear is that it will come back to us in the form of an ouroboros, or cyclical nature of time, in which we cannnot escape.  This is also called the cylce of samsara in Hindu cultures.  The South African preacher can stay positive his entire life, however this may not mean that he can escape apartheid. The systematic realities cause us to implode.  At times there are so many distractions, and theoretical bombs being dropped that we cannot move.  Sigmund may say we supress ourselves, but it is also the society we live in.  

However if we see the positivity in people we might be able to break free of these bonds that keep us down.  Sigmund Freud never actually focused on anything positive in his writings.  He relays human experience robotically.  It is not exactly that he is criticizing human reality, except that he analyzes us in a way that makes sense while not exactly making any of us feel well.  In this sense it might be true.  That the harrowing reality of us is that we are human, we are imperfect, and in actuality, we are all in this together.

Freud's In Dreams outlines the concept of fear.  The concept of triggering someone's emotions and waiting for them to respond.  The experience of shock and the complimentary memory loss of the event at hand.  These fears and shocking memories can lie dormant, eventually bubbling up little hints of anxiety, influencing the way we see people.  Repressed desires can manifest themselves in dreams, thereby eliminating the circle.  All the subtleties and nuances of everyday life are there, in the dream, presenting themselves as they come forth.

Sex emotions are those most difficult to control and deal with.  In dreams there are theorists that believe the dream experience is not controlled by the participant.

In conclusion dreams are cool too.

[weird-like-tuesdays]

I am not bound by the laws of man... I am however bound by the laws of improvisation comedy.

-Police: This is the police you're under arrest for snuggling 30 kilos of cocaine! Me: Yes and... Now I'm invisible! Police: Holy shit! Where'd he go?

-Starbucks barista: I have a coffee for Hank! Me: Yes and... Now it's on fire! Barista: Holy shit! It is on fire

Some loon on this hellsite: M.A.P.s are discriminated against just like lgbt+ people, they're valid. Me: No... And fuck you and the clown car you rode in on.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader -”What Death Tastes Like”

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 2      Part 3      Part 4      Part 5

“Hi daddy,” Emma enters the kitchen and you follow, immediately greeting The Joker.

“Hello Mister J.”

“Pumpkin,” he acknowledges his daughter. “Miss Crane,” he growls at your presence and you can’t help it:

“I like your purple shirt Mister J; makes you look ravishing.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffs, used to the 22 year old throwing this kind of stuff his way on a regular basis.

“Definitely!” you approach and point at his can of grape juice. “Can I take a sip?”

“Since when you like grape juice?’ The Clown Prince of Crime frowns but hands over the container anyway.

“I don’t,” you taste the sweet liquid and continue: “I just wanted to touch something your lips touched.”

“That’s a new one!” he rolls his eyes and snatches back his drink while Emma closes the fridge in a hurry, appalled you always flirt with her father.

“Keep her on a leash!” J advises his offspring and you snicker as she pushes you out of the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you say those things to him!” Emma gives you a nudge on the hallway, amused and horrified in the same time. “He could be your dad!”

“But he’s not,” you wink, dodging her grip. “He could be my daddy though!”

“You shameless jerk!!” she laughs and starts chasing you. “How dare you??!!”

“He’s really hot for being 40-ish!” the enthusiastic Y/N teases more, speeding up so she won’t get caught. “I’m going to marry him and I’ll be your step mom. You’ll have to call me mommy!”

“Whaaaattt??!!” Emma shouts and The King of Gotham shakes his head because he can still perceive your aberrations: the truth is he’s uncertain if that’s all they are, thus the dilemma J doesn’t care to solve regardless.

You quickly run into Emma bedroom and snatch a pillow in order to protect yourself from her attack.

“I love your dad!” you grin and she keeps relentlessly hitting you with her fluffy cushion, annoyed:

“I hate you!! I totally hate you!!!”

You suddenly start coughing and your best friend halts her rampage, concerned.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Where’s your med?”

You pull the vial out of your jean’s pocket and she opens it while your cough intensifies; Emma fingers tremble at the sight of blood stains on the palm of your hand.

“Here, take this. Two?”

“Y-yes,” you struggle to talk and swallow the tablets, finding it difficult to calm down without the remedy you failed to ingest earlier before the worse happened.

“Come’ere,” she carefully sits you on the bed and begins wiping the red spots off your skin with a clean tissue. “There you go… Deep breaths, OK?” the young woman urges on the verge of crying: although she’s used to your episodes, she can’t cope with the thought of losing her best friend.

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; she didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late.

“Better?” Emma analyzes your face and you can tell how upset she is, that’s why you try to distract her the best way you know how.

“Is your dad wearing a new cologne?”

“Huh?”

“He smells sooooo good, I swear I get this uncontrollable desire to kiss him all over,” you cough a bit more and she slaps your thigh, outraged.

“Would you stop it???!!!”

“I think he’ll miss me when I’m gone,” you playfully giggle. “Who else would flirt with an old man in his 40’s?!”

“Stupid girl…” Emma’s voice quivers since she doesn’t like to be reminded you’ll leave her. You both are silent for a few moments before she gathers the strength to continue the planned evening.

“I’m going to prepare you a nice, warm bath, then we’ll tag along with my dad at his Neon Devil club, alright?” she pouts and you don’t have the heart to admit you don’t feel like going out anymore.

“Sure… … sounds perfect,” you sigh and underline. “Only if I can spend some time alone with Mister Joker in the VIP section.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Emma concludes and you won’t quit.

“I didn’t say anything bad, you’re the perv for thinking indecencies regarding a man and a woman…alone… in the luscious VIP room… a few drinks… music blasting… attractiveness mooing to be unleashed…”

“Mooing???” she burst out laughing, forgetting she was about to admonish on your crazy ideas…again.

“Yup, mooing…” you proclaim with delight. “It’s a very sexy term, won’t you agree? … … Sexy like your dad!” you immediately blur out and stomp towards the bathroom while she hunts you down with the only purpose of shutting down the outpour of nonsense flowing out of you.

***************

Neon Devil Club, 10:36pm

“Are you going to dance?” Emma’s red cheeks pop up next to you.

“No, not tonight. Don’t worry, I’m having fun!” you point at the two empty cocktail glasses in front of you, still working on your third one. “I think I might call it a night soon, I’m tired.”

“OK, Y/N. Let me know when, we’ll both go!” she yells over the deafening tune.

“Stay and have fun, I can get a ride!” you glare at The Joker sitting at the bar a few inches away from you, totally absorbed by his text messages.

“Are you sure?” Emma hesitates and you poke J’s arm in order to get his attention.

He finally looks up and his daughter pleads:

“Daddy, can you take Y/N back to our house when she’s ready? I want her to be there when I return, this way we can gossip after the wild intercourse I’m gonna have with one of these lucky guys!”

The Clown Prince of Crime stares at her, displeased with the comments.

“Hilarious,” he growls and she jumps up and down, excited to see Bane’s son in the crowd.

“Don’t get mad, daddy!” she pecks his cheek. “I’m joking… Maybe…” Emma chuckles at his grumpiness and you are proud of her achievement in mocking the forever serious Joker: despite the nickname, the green haired menace is not the epitome of joyfulness.

“Are you supposed to have alcohol with the medications you’re taking?” he gestures at your cocktail.

“Nope,” you serenely confess and guzzle down more. “I’m a burden to my father and he doesn’t even know it,” you sniffle and J senses something strange about your affirmation. “He locks himself in the lab for days, researching on ways to overcome my terminal cancer. Did you know Evelyn left him two weeks ago?” you ask and The King feels cornered; you’re probably tipsy and in mood to chat while he’s not. “She’s perfect for him and he let her go… He would ignore her for days, immersed in his ridiculous project of saving me. The amazing Doctor Crane can’t take the hint this is a battle he won’t win. I made peace with what’s happening to me, but he can’t...,” you wave at the bartender for another glass. “Why won’t my father accept the inevitable outcome?” the pain in your tone prompts J to mutter:

“He just tries to postpone the inevitable.”

“I’m grateful for his help,” you ramble on. “I take remedies he makes for me and it’s nice to avoid the traditional chemo and losing my hair. I don’t look like I’m dying, correct? If you wouldn’t weren’t aware of my illness, you couldn’t tell, right?”

“Yes,” The impatient Joker signals the bartender to halt mixing your fresh drink; in his opinion you had enough.

“I got my test results this morning, “ you disclose, pouting. “They’re bad…” Y/N inhales the rest of her liquid courage and taps on the marble counter, disappointed at her own statement. “Did you ever taste death?” the weird question makes him taunt.

“Naahhh.”

“This is what it tastes like,” the heartbroken Y/N softly kisses The Joker and his remark hurts more than her disappointing routine evaluation:

“Strawberry margarita?”

You hop off your high chair so fast he realizes you’re flustered; it was the first time you kissed him, not that kind of kiss anyway and he completely dismissed your candor in the worst possible way.  

“Can we go please?” you intensely glare at your sandals and J opts out of attempting to patch up his callous reply; possibly the best decision regarding these circumstances simply because it doesn’t affect him at all.

“Sure, we can bail,” he grumbles and escorts you out of the club, wondering if you are done talking about matters of no importance to him.

****************

The master bedroom is cracked opened and you knock until The Joker bothers to acknowledge your existence.

“What is it?”

You sneak inside, adamant to request a tiny favor.

“Can I watch TV in here?”

“Why?” he wiggles in the middle of his bed, certainly not thrilled at your proposal.

“I won’t inconvenience you, ok?” you evade his inquiry and still being a bit tipsy briefly aids your plan; your drag your feet to the humongous mattress, then slip inside the purple sheets at the edge of the bed. “You know… If I would have lived longer, I bet you would have married me,” you gaze at the man relaxing close to your body.

The Joker nonexistent eyebrows go up so high it’s possibly a new record: why did Emma have to stay at the club instead of distracting you from whatever the hell this is?!

“We would have had at least 4 kids…” you continue your story. “ I’m young so every two years I could have been convinced to get pregnant; we would have had a small army of little Jokers and Y/Ns… I picked a few names already, would you like to hear them?”

“NO!!” he sucks on his teeth, irritated.

“Hmm…” you get discouraged yet it doesn’t last. “ You would have died at 65…”

“Why would I die at 65?!” J interrupts and his interest gives you a boost of much needed confidence.

“Car accident; you’re a shitty driver,” you lift your shoulders up, instantly correcting your sentence. “I meant reckless.”

The Clown Prince of Crime huffs and the fact that he engaged into this monologue of yours hopefully suggests he won’t chase you away until you finish.

“After your demise I would have mourned you for a decent amount of months, then I would have remarried a guy my age, this way I’m not in any danger of becoming a widow for the second time. I would obviously have our children too so not to worry, I would have survived without you.”

“Awesome, I was anxious you won’t overcome the grief,” his sassiness triggers your approval.

“Indeed; yet I have to warn you: if you ever cheated on me, I would have asked my father to create a special virus to obliterate you from the face of the planet!”

“Why are you shouting?!” The Joker scratches his chin, confused about your attitude.

“Sorry,” you take it down a notch. “I always get emotional when I think about this part…”

“Is this soap opera of yours almost done?” the impatience emerges; I suppose you tested his composure enough.

“I really like you,” you cut off his vexation. “You should be happy a young woman would crave an older man in his 40’s or 50’s,” you snort while adding to his growing restlessness.

“I think it’s time for you and the alcohol in your system to take a nap!” J hints at your departure and you abruptly bring it up since he’s basically throwing you out:

“Do you like me? You never get mad or chase me when I flirt with you…” you scoot over and cuddle next to him.

“What are you doing?!” J gets pissed at your boldness.

“I’m cold,“ you lie without a problem and he’s done with the dumb night he had to put up with so far.

“Get out!” The King of Gotham snaps and his sudden aggressiveness throws you off.

“I want to stay and watch TV; I promise I’ll be super quiet from now on. Cross my heart and hope to die!” you smile and your silly pun doesn’t have the outcome you hoped for.

“You know why I indulge a shallow brat’s idiotic flirting?!” he raises his voice and you shrivel because you realize he won’t utter anything nice at this point. “Who wouldn’t feel sorry for a walking corpse, hm? Despite what people think, I’m not that insensitive!”

You gulp and slowly roll out of bed, trying not to cry in front of him; you don’t remember sensing a stronger pain in your life, not even after you got sick.

“You’re so mean, “ you whisper and can’t stop the first tears streaming down your face. “I wouldn’t have married you anyway,” you rush out of the master bedroom and The Joker reprises his movie, undisturbed at the events he created out of spite.

“Fuck…” he mumbles when it hits: Emma will chew him alive if she finds about his behavior; would you mention this to her? Or she would guess something went wrong if you depart from the mansion when she asked you to stay? The only person that counts is bound to make him rethink his awful actions; his daughter wouldn’t forgive him unless he patches up things. Might as well get it over with before he lands in hotter waters.

“Uggghhhh,” The Joker puckers his lips and contemplates his choices: not too many, thus he ends up in front of your bedroom 10 minutes after the fight.

He can discern your sobbing and opens the door without knocking because another human’s privacy is simply not his issue. You are standing by the windows and turn towards him, mad you didn’t lock the entrance.

“Your company is required in the master bedroom,” J elaborates on the subject and Y/N’s silence evokes a faint apology. “I don’t think you’re a walking corpse… … …”

No reaction.

“Come on, let’s watch TV in my room…”

“Why would you need a shallow brat’s idiotic company?” you blow your nose in a tissue and emphasize. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Crane’s a genius but the trait is clearly skipping a generation,” his way of attempting to restore the mood totally sucks. “It’s not pity.”

“What is it then?” you wipe your tears and he has no clue himself.

“Not…pity.”

Are you debating on his offer?

“Come on,” J grabs your hand and your resistance works a miracle nonetheless. “I’m sorry, alright? Not a word to Emma, deal? Or your dad, he would probably create a goddamned virus to exterminate me from this planet. Don’t laugh, it’s not funny,” he sulks, crabby at the idea of being killed for offending Scarecrow’s princess.

“I won’t…” you promise and you’re actually surprised when he lifts you up, guiding your legs around his waist.

“You can sleep in my bed if you want to… until Emma gets back,” The Joker recommends and you hide your astonishment the best way you can.

“Sleep like in dozing of or…?” you wish to determine and the response doesn’t fail to deepen the mystery:

“As I said, genius sometimes skips a generation.”

The King strolls out of the bedroom with Y/N clinging to him while he lifts her higher in his arms, closing his eyes when she kisses him.

And the only thing The Joker can think of for the moment is that if death tastes like this, it’s not the worst way to go.

Also read: MASTERLIST

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