#the amount of scenario's in my head where it has and could happen phew

[willel]

Maybe people get defensive about head canons and theories sometimes because it implies you think that the creators made a mistake to create the story and dynamics that they did. That what we saw on screen as far as character dynamics was a mistake in a way, if that makes sense? Idk. Perhaps, when theorizing about the potential of twins (based on what little we have), it can come across as that you think the show should have done that instead. Not saying you do that but maybe some defensiveness?

To follow up, not trying to say your blog or others dedicated to these characters is trying to do that, but that maybe fandom feels like it can get to a point where you're implying that the show should regret making the first season in a way? Maybe it's because I haven't been in other fandoms and not familiar with pop culture, but I just don't understand imagining what if scenarios, because why engage with the show? It sounds like you think you could do better than what we got with the dynamics.

Mmm, no, that's not the point I'm trying to get across.

When you have long ongoing shows (especially the super duper long ones), they don't plan absolutely everything from the getgo. There are some out there that do else the entire show wouldn't work (that's what I heard about Dark), but Stranger Things is no one of those shows.

Stranger Things is the kind of show that has a few through lines they follow through with every season, but they write majority of each season "on the spot" or as it comes along. Sometimes they have little accidents that work out fantastically. Other times, they make mistakes that don't really line up with everything else or they end up writing themselves into a hole or completely forget to plot out something that was so significant before. These are show writers, not gods after all. They are capable of making oopsies.

Look at Game of Thrones. Never watched that show a day in my life but I'm sure almost every fan can point out the issues it had after a couple of seasons when they had to make up stuff on the spot without source material. (Stranger Things is in a slightly better position because it IS the source material)

When they wrote season 1, I don't believe they already had the Mind Flayer planned out.

When they wrote season 2, I don't believe they had the Mind Flesher all planned out.

When they wrote season 3, I don't believe they had Vecna all planned out.

One of their favorite things to bring up is how accidental it was that Gaten and Steve's actor (sorry can't remember his name right now) happened to have a good onscreen chemistry in season 2. That certainly wasn't planned in season 1 and it's something they've decided to continue writing for season 3 and onward.

It's stuff like that that should inform you, "Yeah, they definitely had the skeleton but all the meat was kinda on the spot."

The terms plot hole, retcon, and other similar verbiage wasn't invented by the Stranger Things fandom. Every single piece of media from cartoons to live action shows deal with issues like this. Even one off movies. The amount of anime I've peeled apart and pointed out the oopsies in.... phew.

As for Will and El's potential, like i stated in a previous post, it's always been there. Do I wish there was more? Yes. But I'm not exactly advocating for all my headcanons to be real. They're "headcanons". It's fanfiction. It's fake. It's for fun. It's a "what if". Every single fanart and fanfiction that isn't a 1:1 to the show is also just headcanon, fake, and for fun.

I dunno. I think anyone getting defensive or up in arms about headcanons, theories, fanart, or playful "WillEl twins!" talk is being weird.

Obviously they aren't actually twins. They're step siblings who care about each other a lot and seem to have some kind of weird bond. I feel like the show has wasted a lot of time skirting around the edges of the supernatural plot (not just willel), time could've been spent exploring these ideas. But it's kind of whatever. We have to accept what's been given to us and fill in the rest with our own ideas, fanart, fanfiction, headcanons, and whatever else we want.

That is what a fandom is. You enjoy a thing. You make stuff because you enjoy a thing. You "fix" stuff because you enjoy a thing. I would hope most people are in this fandom simply because they enjoy the show. I hope they don't believe being part of a fandom means the show is the word of law and wanting anything different or wanting more or making up fan stuff is bad, wrong, and should be stopped at all costs because the showrunners and the show are perfect.

I've been in a many of fandoms and fandoms have always been this way. Well, in the distant past I think it was a lot less toxic because social media didn't exist and everyone was quietly chilling in their own segmented forums.

But fandom has always been about enjoying what you like. Some media only exists because someone thought, "You know what, if the story did things this way, I think it'd be more fun." Just think about how many tv shows, books, and movies have based their plot on a Shakespeare play but "better". Stranger Things itself is extremely derivative of 1970's and 80's movies, all mashed together. It's like a fanfiction of ever classic slasher supernatural horror movie.

Stranger Things is just a tv show. People need to loosen up.

[bunnyboys]

ok but can i just say that kylex would have SO much fucking potentional now even more after michael is like i dont want this. the way they're friends now and partners in crime, literally. the way kyle always looks so surprised around alex as if everything suddenly makes sense. just have alex go to kyle for comfort, have kyle admit some feelings, it all works. It all FITS

#the way this will Never happen #but a girl can dream #the amount of scenario's in my head where it has and could happen phew #they just would be so good and so fucking powerful my dudes ugh #kyle x alex #kylex

[echoeternally]

A Hero’s Second Wind: Poll Rules

Hello to the Pokémon fanfic readers! ...And curious newcomers!

If you’ve arrived on this page, that means you’re here to join the voting! For what, exactly?

This is a competition to help bring back a fallen hero from the War of the Iceberg Empire! In the second fanfic, Melting Gelid Roses, a clash between the protagonists and their allies broke out against invading forces.

Several characters were killed in combat, including five of the heroes helping the main cast out. Even with the war won, the losses weighed on for the remainder of the story, and will play a part in driving the coming plot forward.

So, this is where you’re coming in!

By participating in the following poll, you’ll have a chance at getting one of the heroes resurrected from the grave (or rather, discovering their survival from death’s door), and can return them back to the journeys remaining!

The catch?

Although there are going to be methods for any character to have survived their battles, only the winning hero will prevail. That means whoever gets the most votes by the end of the polling period will be the one returning to the story. Unfortunately, the others will remain dead.

...But that’s no fun, right? These particular characters are connected, as friends, family, or lovers. Separation could be heartbreaking. So...want a chance to even the odds?

Readers (and voters) will have a chance at resurrecting one hero...or two!

By voting for the character you want back, you can also try to vote back a companion with them! If the leading character isn’t ahead of the second place option by a daunting amount, then both characters will have the opportunity to return!

How big will that gap be? That depends on the votes and the selections!

If there’s only a small pool of votes included, the gap will be smaller. For example, if a leader has 8/10 votes, then no one else returns. But, if the lead character has 6/10 and second place has 4/10, then that will allow both to return.

The more readers that participate, the bigger the gap allowance will be! After all, the above scenario depicts small numbers being dumped in on only two characters. But, if the totals are much higher, then the chances for the following ally will be increased as well.

With only a pool of 10 votes, the window will be small. But if there are 20 votes, and 1st place hits 10 votes while 2nd place hits 6 votes, then that will count. Each time the total number of votes increases, the survival gap will reflect that, so long as there is a significant change.

After all, a participation total of 12 voters isn’t much higher than 10. A vote total for 20, however, is much higher and warrants more opportunity for the companion character.

Just know something: the results for the survivors will follow for any combination that wins. Even if you were looking to help a particular pair of characters return, if someone else gets in the way, that character will join and the partner will not. So, keep an eye on the results, and maybe join forces with fellow readers!

Oh, and to keep things more interesting, there will be an option to keep the status quo and leave each of these characters deceased. That’s right, five heroes will get the chance, but the sixth option will be there to keep those characters off the playing board for good.

This is an option for those that prefer the tragic and dramatic elements for the story...but it also adds weight for the cast still in the story. After all, if someone were to come back, we might need an equivalent exchange. And if two of them return? Those odds go up too.

But, this one isn’t a guarantee; after all, things change for development. Conversely, the returning characters can still have a chance to die again, if they’re not careful! It’s all based on the events that remain...and, perhaps who they end up with.

To keep things even more interesting, you can select more than one option...but that comes at a price.

Because finally, you’ll need to be careful with voting. In the event of a tie between 2 characters, both will obviously return together. But, in the event of a tie among 3 or more characters, including the “no returns” option, then all characters will remain deceased.

One chance will be given for a tiebreaker match if there are a higher number of votes and all options were voted for. After all, if your selection doesn’t win, you could still have the chance to help out someone else’s pick. Or, to hinder them all, should you choose to!

So, for the recap:

A poll is running to bring back 1 out of 5 heroes

The 6th option will be for them to stay dead

If there’s a close call between the Top 2, both can come back

If there’s a tie between 3 or more, we’ll have one tiebreaker; if that fails, no one returns

The higher number of votes added for the overall poll, the greater the chances are for 2 returning characters, not just 1

Should 2 options win out, any combination is viable, and no exceptions past them

The voting period will be decided based on the poll’s progress. The initial timeline will be set for two months, so February is the ending period. If there are very few votes, it will end during that time. If we get a lot of votes, I’ll increase the duration to leave the poll going…

...Unless the votes are piled in on only one or two characters outright. If that happens, those characters are locked in for the win. But again, there have to be enough votes going overall for there to be more than one winner! And they have to be closely split, of course.

Phew! I hope you’ve got all of that in mind.

It’s a lot, but this post will serve as the rules page, and I’ll keep that directly included with the voting page and its periodic updates.

If you’re looking to learn more about the characters, please head on over to the character description pages! This will give you a refresher on the options to select from.

If you’re curious about what each returning character or combination offers, please check out the developing scenes and hero promotional pages! These will serve as potential scenes for when those characters are selected to return.

Ok, that should be everything, but just in case it’s not, I will update this post whenever necessary and update folks about changes accordingly.

The main pages to check in on the poll (besides the poll itself) will be on my main or side blogs. Some small updates may pop up elsewhere, but anything critical to the voting will be on the main blog foremost!

Please note: These results will not impact the immediate flow of the story. The first portion will be under development while this poll is taking place, so the winning hero will not appear early on in the story. This allows more flexibility for the development that will include them. It may take some time to get to the winning character(s) return, but should that be chosen, it will happen!

That will be all. Good luck, and help your heroes! (Or don’t!)

Thank you for reading.

#a hero's second wind

[zoestagg]

Ironman Bintan 70.3...

**It took me nearly a month to write this, as I usually focus on the positive around here — but it’s also my scrapbook, and has been for a decade. This is worth having to look back on, and worth voicing as a female experience. The positive? I had a race crew that was willing to get on a plane for eight hours, schlep a bike internationally, and hang around waiting to cheer me on all day. They’re why while the race experience itself might have scarred me, the DNF didn’t embarrass me at all. How could it? There was still a bottle of champagne waiting at the hotel and a week left to float in the pool and explore. That’s the amazing part. Now…the rest.**

I felt rushed. I worked in the dark in my eight square inches of space to arrange my transition spot. I hadn’t eaten yet, I hadn’t found the porta-potties, and I hadn’t done one single open-water swim the entire training cycle.

That sounds like a race-anxiety nightmare, and that was only the first five minutes.

It was about to get way, way worse. 

I’ve given up getting mad that they issue the women’s wave neon pink caps. It’s hack, but fine. Frankie is delighted when they get passed down to her immediately after. In the dozen of waves that waited in the corral for their chance to swim, there was only one of women.

The Pros and younger men’s age groups started off, and I tried not to throw up as I waited in the practice area, dipping my head in the water to make sure my goggles were good. It was as promised, blessedly smooth. Nothing like the squalling Mediterranean three years ago. And even though I hadn’t had the opportunity to swim outside of a pool, this was honestly as pool-like as it was going to get. The squared-off course was pretty straight forward.

All I had to do was get around it.

The green caps launched off, and the blue caps filed in. If you’ve never been to the start of a big corporate race, it’s not for the sound-sensitive. It’s loud. Constant announcements on a sort of endless yammer, music, repeat. At the start, there’s a sort of DJ/Emcee scenario. He was working the crowd, asking people where they’re from.

“Australia!” “All right then, mate!”

“USA!” “Right. Back of the line then.”

You guys. The world really isn’t pleased.

The horn blew and the blue caps splashed in, making room for the women. The pump-up music for the women’s wave started. I would say it was a really annoying one-off if it wasn’t played at every daggone race I’ve done.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

Now excuse me while I REALLY try not to barf. You’re right, I spent two hours of every day, plus most of every weekend training to have FUN. You’re SECONDARILY RIGHT that no inspiring song about the female condition has been recorded since 1982. This would make me mad enough to swear right here if this was the extent of the grief I would be given for my gender that day, but it WASN’T AT ALL so stay flipping tuned.

I’m apparently still very, very mad.

When I did the Olympic distance ocean swim in my first race, I was so scared I wasn’t going to make the time cutoff. This go around, after I kind of jockeyed for space in my preferred spot, (back of the wave and as close to the line as possible) I got kind of calm. It wasn’t so bad. I just started swimming — PROPERLY, even. This is a big deal. Last ocean swim it was too choppy for me to put my head in. Sometimes in lakes there’s too much…nature to make it possible to crawl for long without wanting to scream the whole lake in. This time, eh. It was water.

IT WAS JUST WATER. And I swam.

I didn’t even panic much, when I heard them release the wave behind me. That didn’t stop me from being the girl who was yelling “NO TOUCHIES NO TOUCHIES” as my mantra when they got too close to my tail fins. Look. It’s the terrifying ocean with WILDLIFE, if you want to pass, just go around.

NO TOUCHIES.

I was feeling weirdly good. I don’t even remember the swim being much effort. It looked like I could have just stood up the whole time, which helped too. I think I checked my watch once at the half, and then not again until I could hear the music again at the swim out. 48:00. I had 70:00 minutes before I blew the deadline, I was fiiiiiine.

I swam as far in as I could, got out and pumped some fists that I didn’t have to try to peel off a wetsuit, and heard the *beep beep* as I crossed the timing mat. (Swim Time: 1900m/54:00)

This race, given that we had to schlep a bike and suitcase and everything on multiple planes and a ferry, meant that I didn’t bring a bunch of stuff I might have otherwise. Stuff, like oh, the race fuel I’m used to. I couldn’t really bring onigiri that far in advance, I couldn’t really pack a jar of peanut butter and tortillas, I just… Improvised. I’d downed a couple of handfuls of trail mix before the swim, and now before the bike, I crammed in bites of protein cookie washed down with water like a competitive eater. I pulled on my fanny pack with more snacks, pulled up my bib belt, and yanked my bike off the rack. I was feeling cautiously optimistic and ready to ride. (Transition 1: 6:30)

I didn’t know as I pedaled out, that it would be about 45 minutes until everything turned to garbage.

Indonesia is lush. There are legit monkeys just chilling on the side of the road like wild cats. I pumped my legs and tried to occupy my thoughts and take in the scenery. It’s in those moments, that a couple of things can happen: you can look down at your speedometer and be pleasantly surprised that you’re pulling 20 mph without really trying; and you can discover that the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is the exact beat that makes that cadence.

I had read the race description. Something about “a few gentle rolling hills.” I had watched the time-lapse video of the whole bike course. Looked pretty flat to me!

IT WAS NOT FLAT.

The first hill hit, and preceded three hours of switching back and forth between 4 mph as I stood up and pumped in the lowest gear, and 24 mph as I tried to make it back. I struggle a little with my feet on the bike, I have to remind myself to stay off of them and wiggle my toes and watch my form so I don’t end up with knives stabbing through the balls. This amount of standing up? There’s no terrain around here that I could have used to prepare for that. But whatever. We finished a loop out of a forested road, and hit a town. There were Indonesian flags everywhere, most buildings and houses had one planted. I don’t know how much of that is set-dressing for the race, but the KIDS.

The kids, were not.

They stood outside of houses and tiny village storefronts watching and cheering. This parade of 2,000 insane people on bicycles was the most exciting Sunday morning show, and they cheered everyone who passed. I made it my mission to be a one-woman good-sport committee and gave every single group a “Good morning!!!! Hiiiii!” Some of them yelled back, “Winner!” and it was pretty outstanding. Eventually, the tiny villages in the trees thinned out, revealing violent red clay hillscapes, and the sun started to really beat.

From the course preview video -- even watching again, I don’t know how they managed to make the hills disappear, but they did. And that bridge? The “guard rail” was just the two pipes and then a 50-foot drop. Not cozy.

By the bridge, enough time had passed to thin the herd, and I suddenly found myself in Indonesia, about 25 miles from anyone I knew, and as race rules dictate (YOU WILL BE GIVEN A RED CARD DQ IF YOU ARE CAUGHT USING A PHONE OR ELECTRONIC DEVICE) without a phone.

Fun.

I pumped on, and tried to stay positive. The course wasn’t closed, it was on roads shared as the rest of the island’s life went on, and as I started to think about pulling off to stand up for a second and swap my water bottles around, a scooter passed. The man driving it slowed as he passed me and took a hard look. I watched, because as much as Japan doesn’t require you to have street smarts, I’ve lived places, okay. He continued up the road a hundred yards and turned around, riding past again.

I didn’t stop.

Another scooter revved up from behind me. This one had friends. He pulled ahead of me, while one pulled beside and another, stayed behind. They were teenagers, and started talking to me, motioning me to pull over.

“No. I’m fine. I’m riding. No.”

Sometime after the water stop that told me they were out of water after I had already dumped my hot water out to switch, a truck rolled by. The man leaned out the window and said,

“I love you.”

I don’t think he meant that in a positive and nurturing way that respects my agency as a human being.

All I wanted was to stop and spend 45 seconds getting my fuel situated. The second my speed dipped, there would be a scooter or two, appearing out of nowhere, making very sure I wasn’t going to stop for all of the Gatorade in China. About the time the man drove by making kissy noises, and I’d spent a good three hours calculating how long it would take me to get stuffed in the back of a truck on a course where the only chip mats are at 20k and 70k and it would be a really long time before anyone missed me, I started to sob hysterically.

(Let’s take a moment of brightness to know that as awful of a time I was having, Ryan and Frankie were okay waiting for me. Phew.)

Now. There were medic vans and mechanic vans on the course, I did see them periodically. But by the time I was rolling through 40 miles, I was in such a state from dealing with harassment from almost every vehicle that passed, I started to really lose it.

“DON’T TALK TO ME. DON’T LOOK AT ME. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

It’s kind of hard to ride your bike when you’re scream crying.

Eventually, I rolled though 52 miles, and another biker spun up past me. “There’s 30 minutes to cutoff! Keep going, you’ll make it.” At this point, I really didn’t even care. I was sobbing, and worried I wouldn’t be able to stop if Frankie was at the transition point. I think I rode past Ryan and Frankie at the end of the bike, and was completely relieved I wouldn’t have to talk to them right then. (Bike 56 miles/4:39:12)

This smile is fake.

I racked my bike, probably still yelling “BAN MEN,” and sat down at transition and really cried. I cried because I was slow enough that I’d been an easy target. I cried that 75% of the competitors probably had a LOVELY time on the course and in the world in general and would never know how awful it feels to be prey, and I cried because what a burden that is, what an unequal athletic playing field that is and BAN MEN.

And then I put on my running shoes and tried to find the run out. No signs. Who cares at this point, right? (Transition 2: 6:23)

I started to run. I was scared I was going to have to go out and subject myself to more unwanted attention, but the run course was protected, in some kind of weird golf course or something. The sun dipped behind clouds and I set the first goal to getting to where I thought the spectators might be. I was still entirely on edge, and when I heard a male voice behind me, I whipped around with a LOOK. He paused.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but um, is this your first lap or your second?”

I relaxed, a little. “First. THOSE HILLS.”

“I know! Okay, thanks! Have a good run.”

He jogged on, and I felt the first drop. And then the second. And then, dear reader, I found out what an Indonesian monsoon feels like. For the next hour, the skies opened.

The surface of the lake was a blur as raindrops bounced six inches off the surface. The trail filled with water, and then flooded. Eventually, it was ankle deep. My shoes started to rub blisters. I couldn’t see in front of me. Aid stations ducked under tarps as the wind whipped.

And I knew it was over.

I passed the halfway on the run, and a restaurant. Ryan and Frankie, who I was totally worried about in all of the rain, were tucked inside having lunch. I stood outside dripping, gave Ryan the short version of the awful day, and said I was checking out. I could have propelled myself the last 10k without the wet blisters. Without a time cutoff, I could have technically finished. As I neared the lap switch, the guy in charge said,

“You’ve missed it.” (Time spent running: 1:44:28)

You know what happens when you don’t make the last time cutoff in a monsoon? They withhold the giveaway towels because they say “Finisher” on them.

It’s fine.

I stood in the middle of the flooded field while those who’d had a much better day got their medals, and filed a report. Who knows if anyone got it, but now there’s a handy link to send to HQ, right? Ultimately, this race location is not suited for female athletes. I was wearing the same thing as everyone else. I’m OLD. I was still harassed for five hours. And I DNFed, my first one ever.

And I’ve signed up for another one in December.

#ironman #triathlon #try club #swimming #running #bicycles #indonesia #bintan

[gillespialfredoe01806ld]

The Best and Worst Cities in America to Survive the Apocalypse

KREMLL/iStock

We live in uneasy and downright queasy times. What’s causing Americans to hit the panic button? Is it:

a) devastating hurricanes b) demoralizing tweetstorms c) cyberattacks d) gun attacks e) North Korea, Iran, Russia, etc. f) zombies g) everything

You didn’t really need us to tell you the answer is “g,” right? Apocalypse. … Wow. Even to the most positive-minded among us, it sometimes seems the world is on the verge of collapse. So just in case civilization does indeed crumble, explode, or implode around you, it makes sense to have a plan. Where do you go to eke out survival?

The location you call home could mean the difference between life and death in the face of utter disaster—but the safest place depends on what kind of disaster we’re talking about. That’s where the realtor.com® data team comes in. We donned��our biohazard gear, pulled together a gross of canned goods and filtered water and set our sights on the best—and worst—metros to to survive two wildly different end-of-days scenarios: a nuclear calamity (more terrifying every day, thank you Kim Jong Un) and a zombie apocalypse (hey, it could happen).

Don’t ask us which is worse.

There are home features, like impregnable panic rooms, that could increase your chance of remaining among the living during an attack of the  walking dead, or any fast-spreading, deadly contagion. But if your panic room is located in the middle of a big city, then your odds go down. Large urban centers are like all-you-can-eat buffets for zombies—all those delectable brains! Meanwhile, a bunker or fallout shelter could save your skin during a nuclear attack—unless it’s right near a military base, making it a top target.

Decisions, decisions.

“Surviving a disaster will often have more to do with where you are than with any other factor,” says Richard Duarte, a Miami-based personal injury attorney and author of the book “Surviving Doomsday.” “Finding yourself in a highly populated urban center, competing with violent crowds for dwindling resources, will usually not end well. If the scarcity doesn’t get you, the resulting chaos certainly will.”

“On the other hand, being in a low-density rural location, with more abundant natural resources, and far fewer mouths to feed, will dramatically increase your chances of surviving the crisis,” he says.

So we looked at a variety of criteria that could mean the difference between life, death, and the fate of the walking undead. We looked at the 200 largest U.S. metros and only included one per state. Our criteria included:*

Percentage of realtor.com home listings with a lake, pond, or well (for drinking water)

Percentage of listings with a safe room or panic room

Percentage listings with a bunker, fallout shelter, or underground shelter

Percentage of listings with solar panels or hydropower (to fuel your home if the grid goes dark)

Population density

Percentage of active military and federal government employees (nuke targets)

Percentage of health care workers

Percentage of manufacturing workers (more nuke targets)

State gun score (tracking the ability to stockpile weapons)

Percentage of landmass covered by fresh water

Gear up and let’s take on the most frightening scenarios first. You’ll thank us one day. (Actually, we hope you won’t.)

Best cities to survive a nuclear apocalypse A scenario where “hottest markets” are the least desirable.

Claire Widman

America’s top cities are not terrific places to be during a nuclear attack—many of them are likely to be on the first-strike target list, especially hubs for government, finance, or corporate infrastructure, or cities that just may be internationally famous (for symbolic value). Military bases are also a great big bullseye. But hold on: The federal government also considers things like airfields, ports, refineries, and energy centers to be targets.

“There is no safe place. There are only safer places,” says Robert Vicino, CEO and founder of the Vivos Group, a group that sells bunkers throughout the world.

You may want to head to Kansas City, MO. The metro has one of the highest rates of housing listings with bunkers or fallout shelters. It also has more than its fair share of homes with basements, as well as those made out of brick—a structure that is better prepared for a nuclear blast. The metro has become something of a prepper mecca—In 2013, Vivos announced plans to build a huge bunker capable of housing around 5,000 people. Structural issues caused the group to abandon the project a year later, but there’s still no shortage of large underground shelters.

On the downside, Fort Leavenworth, an army base on more than 5,000 acres, is about 35 miles to the northwest. So stick to the southeast side of the city.

If you survive the initial blast, you’ll face a long road ahead. One of the basic needs is drinking water, so living in a city like Duluth (No. 7) is a big plus, given the high number of properties with lakes, ponds, and wells. You’ll also need some form of power—San Luis Obispo has a higher-than-average number of homes with solar panels listed on realtor.com. And a city like Manchester has plenty of health care professionals to treat any festering injuries. (And there are likely to be plenty.)

If you’re worried about a nuclear event, what type of home should you seek out?

“Some [preppers] are all about water sources. Others want to get deep into the mountains,” says Theresa Mondale, broker and owner of the United Country-Western Montana Group in Missoula, MT. Mondale specializes in survivable and sustainable properties. “My clients range from college students, retired government officials to high-ranking Silicon Valley [folks].”

After Kansas City, the best places to survive nuclear disaster are New Haven, CT, in second place, followed by Ann Arbor, MI; Hagerstown, MD; Springfield, MA; Manchester, NH; Duluth, MN; San Luis Obispo, CA; Crestview, FL; and Lincoln, NE.

OK, so what are the place to avoid like nuclear waste? Let’s take a (scary) look.

Worst cities to survive a nuclear apocalypse

People around the world hunger for a taste of the Big Apple, but if a nuke drops while you visit, it could be your last taste: New York leads the list of worst places in the United States to ride out an attack. Like most of America’s largest cities, NYC would be hit with a deadly double whammy: In addition to being a primary target, it has precious few natural resources to make post-blast survival possible. Unless you enjoy eating grilled subway rats?

Big cities usually have most of their goods (food, bottled water, medical supplies) shipped in. Once that stopped, panic would quickly set in.

Even getting out of most urban areas, which rely on public transportation and are known for clogged roadways, could be near-impossible. That’s especially true for Miami, our fifth worst-ranked metro—as thousands of people learned while fleeing Hurricane Irma in September.

“There are very few ways to get out of here during a massive evacuation—the only way to go is north,” Duarte says. “Surprisingly, there are only three major highways out of South Florida. Under normal circumstances, those arteries are already congested.”

After New York, our data crunching ranked Los Angeles as the second-worst nuclear haven, Dallas the third, and Nashville, TN, the fourth.

Rounding out the list are Atlanta, ranked sixth, followed by Washington, DC; Philadelphia; Fayetteville, NC; and Seattle.

If you call one of these urban centers home, here’s something to cheer you up: Just about everyone would be screwed during a nuclear strike. So there’s that.

“If it does happen, I don’t know if any amount of time preparing will do much difference. I’ve seen what happens in the aftermath of a simple weather event—people go into chaos,” Duarte says. “That thing we call civilization goes away quick.”

Phew. Let’s lighten the mood a bit and turn to zombies! We all love zombies, right?

Best cities to survive the zombie Armageddon BRAAAINNNSSS

Claire Widman

Anytime a disease spreads from one continent to another, it follows a similar pattern: An unknowingly infected person boards a plane and spreads the illness to others for the whole flight—until they land at a major international airport. In a major city. And once they get to those packed metros, they spread it some more. And on and on.

Zombie-ism is a disease. So if you’re fond of your brains, you don’t want to be in a big city.

That’s why smaller metros head up our walking dead survival list. Topping the list is Lubbock, TX—and the reason can be found in the early scenes of the movie “Zombieland,” when the hero lists his “rules.”  The first: Keep up with your cardio! (You need to be fit to outrun the undead, especially the fast type.) But the second rule is all about the double tap: Always shoot your zombie twice in the head, just to be on the safe side. Cue gun-lovin’ Texas.

Being located in one of the most Second Amendment-friendly states offers plenty of opportunities to get familiar with your firearms prior to the zombie takeover. There are a whole lot of shooting ranges in the area, such as the Patriot Firearms & Family Shooting Center.

But marksmanship alone won’t keep you alive for long. You have to sleep sometime! Lubbock also has an unusually high number of impenetrable, windowless safe rooms and panic rooms—great hideouts where you can avoid legions of soulless animated corpses. “We had a  huge tornado here in the 1970s. What came out of it was that Texas Tech became a leader in creating safe rooms” to protect against future disasters, says area real estate agent Jacky Howard of Coldwell Banker.

While proximity to military bases could prove fatal with nukes, it’s likely a godsend in the face of the living dead. A military outpost would have the soldiers, ammunition, and tanks required to take down those rotting herds.

After Lubbock, Deltona, FL, came in second, followed by San Luis Obispo, CA.

Oklahoma City, at No. 4, was an exception to the small-metro rule. Like Wichita, KS, at No. 7, it’s in the swath of country known as Tornado Alley. These areas have plenty of homes with bunkers and safe rooms to survive the twisters—and far creepier things.

Rounding out the survival list are Kalamazoo, MI; Duluth, MN; Fort Smith, AR; Prescott, AZ, and Lynchburg, VA.

All right, the fun is over. As we’ve learned from “The Walking Dead,” no one lives forever (RIP, Sasha). So let’s take a terrifying look at the very worst places to find yourself.

Worst cities to survive the zombie Armageddon

A zombie apocalypse would take a little while to ramp up to full force. It might start with media reports of a breakout of a rage-inducing disease. That could convince you to stay inside for a few days. But by the time you came to grasp the situation, it might be too late to leave.

Now imagine living in New York, the very worst city to be situated when the zombies take over. In fact, surviving the undead in Manhattan could be even tougher than surviving nukes (or, for that matter, slow-moving tourists). You’d be lucky to make it a block in this jam-packed city without being ripped into something that resembles pulled pork. Just ask Rick Grimes, who barely escaped a zombie mob in downtown Atlanta during the first episode of “The Walking Dead.” (Spoiler: His horse gets eaten).

In case of zombie apocalypse, learn from Rick Grimes, and get out of the city.

AMC

It almost goes without saying, but you can’t grow a garden in a 500-square-foot apartment. And unless you purchased about 1,000 cans of Campbell’s Chunky soup prior to the walkers’ invasion, you’re outta luck. The lesson here is that if you live in a huge city and start seeing people take bites out of each other, it is time to run for the hills.

For those reasons, large cities dominated our list of the worst places to survive a zombie apocalypse. Chicago came in second, followed by Washington, DC; Las Vegas, NV; Cedar Rapids, IA; Portland, OR; Nashville, TN; Seattle; Bridgeport, CT; and Los Angeles.

Still, you might want to take some precautions in case you can’t get out in time.

“Equipping a home with shatter-resistant windows, security devices, and alarm systems could go a long way,” says author Duarte. “Anything you can do to slow down a potential intruder or mindless zombie without much intelligence” would be good. Amen!

*Data sources: realtor.com, Bureau of Labor Statistics, Census Bureau, Department of Defense, and the Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence

The post The Best and Worst Cities in America to Survive the Apocalypse appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

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[redlemonz]

Day #18

My streak of red eyes live another day. Still can’t seem to get enough sleep, and I’m tired as hell. We exchanges some more punny snaps and messages last night, which was pleasant. Though it may not necessarily be defined as a proper conversation as previous days however, considering I was probably being an overly flirty douchebag who sent one too many wink faces. Nevertheless, I don’t think she minded the behaviour too much - but just felt as though it was a bit strange, given the circumstances. I concur with her too, especially since I did think about the fact that I haven’t heard her voice in about two weeks - which may not seem like long, but is a new record time. That angelic voice certainly had the power to resolve these red eyes, I’ll tell you that. But even so, since I’ve lost all my little bonus treasures that I once had, I just have to carry on sadly, even if it’s the one way to ultimately make her happy - being at such a distance. At least it’s another lonely Friday.. 3 weeks already from our break now, and in preparation for that wonderful weekend (+sick day monday). My solo date night is going to be epic, as it will consist of a countless, and beautiful time her - in my dreams. How sad, yeah? Ah well - I can’t wait to go back to sleep. Though perhaps the day ahead will strike me with a much required sense of courage.

Day 18 - personal prison

The loneliness sweeps over me at this end of week at work. Busy as I’m keeping, my thoughts continue to revolve around her as usual. Just another weekend in which I wish I could simply fly down last minute, or even drive straight down to see her. But I can’t. Unfortunately I need to continue my learning endeavour in which I have to try tame my sporadic mind from acting upon ideas which I may think are great, but would ultimately create further distance among us. In other words, I’m attempting to finally take on board listening to her and what she wants - even if it agonisingly enough, is not me. I deserve to be here in this predicament though. Still feeling like an absolute idiot regardless of the fact that I’m finally gaining a bit of intellect prowess through understanding I just need to hear her out. I remember being so troubled through my insecurity of not feeling wanted in our relationship, or not feeling as though she cares enough, that I would pick and choose any potential moment that would arise as an opportunity to prove to her that she’s hurting me. To be fair, I did think I’d be doing the right thing by communicating my emotions to her at the time - as should be the key to any relationship, but I now realise that though my intentions may have been of better value, I always crossed the line on each occasion, as my berserk emotions would strike an unnatural level of guilt than was ever required. It’s not that I would create something out of nothing (although there’d be those past times on occasion too), but rather It’d be the equivalent of taking what should be a social game of indoor football, and acting as if it were the grand final of the FIFA World Cup. This would also essentially be indicating that I was constantly creating and promoting all these unnecessary fights, which was significantly detrimental along the way, as it chipped away against the walls of our relationship, and even so at her. I broke down the best thing that ever happened to me, and I wish I could blame the fact that it was just mistake after mistake, but there comes a time where you actualise that maybe you are the mistake. The actions weren’t the problem.. I am - Which is why she abolished me from her life in that manner. It’s tough to imagine anyone changing so drastically after knowing them for so long in a more private and intimate setting, even if they’ve claimed to realise and understand all their wrong doings and regrets. Time is the only motivating factor and essence that can therefore truly acknowledge truth to such claims - as displayed by Judicial system in which it is decided how, and for what period of time, must each punishment fit it’s crime. Once you’ve been allocated the judged timeframe to be punished, or learn and develop, or rehabilitate, or really however you may choose to witness it to be - you’re granted a another chance at redemption (unless you’ve done something really bad, or cheated the judicial system, or the judicial system’s the one that’s cheated upon your case). The point being in this scenario, that I’m the one who’s somewhat ironically guilty for the crimes committed, and I’m serving my time as I should - in my own personal prison that is my mind (so at least it’s sort of more like home detention, phew). I’m not falsely being sentenced as if I were innocent, or being framed - the charges are all mine, and I should be held accountable. I certainly plead guilty and should finally being reprimanded for my actions. I’m experiencing a combination of all three - learning & developing, rehab, and punishment. Each day accompanies distinct quantities and levels of what will be encountered, and I suppose that’s my current definition of what life is at this point in time.

As the day has progressed, I’m now subject to a social outgoing tonight with a friend I use to work alongside - who’s current position I’ve actually seized since she moved to another organisation. Scary enough as this sociable thing will be (especially with my red eyes), I suppose it’s better than spending an imaginary date night in my land of fantasy with her, in which I’d be torturing myself with lies of what isn’t anymore. I’m feeling a bit better about things anyway, and it’s all part of the learning experience and rehabilitation, right? We’ll see. It took a decent amount of time of debating with myself to even reach the decision of spending my evening elsewhere. But at least it’s with a single, good soul, and her dog too - great, that simple little resemblance just brings me back to her again. I suppose anything really does it at this point though. The real stepping stone to leap onto will be that of drinking. Contrary to previous days, I think I might feel comfortable and ready enough to have a few drinks - or so I’m telling myself in the hopes of moving forward anyway. Truth be told, It’s a bit nerve wracking and I’m not sure how it’ll play out - whether ill simply just have a pleasant time with good company and share some laughs, or if I make any absolutely regrettable mistakes such as drunk dialling her in an attempt to win her affection back. The worst part about the latter is the knowledge that I’ve come quite far already, as I’ve thought it out carefully -right now, beforehand, to see it as a possible consequence of my decision.. but I’m still taking the leap. The last time I drank without her was simply ugly - it basically involved an endless steam of tears from an emotional wreck who punished himself mentally and physically, as my face would indicate the next morning. Saddest part being that I thought someone else was the culprit to knocking me in the face (and I wouldn’t have blamed them, because, well - it’s me), though as luck would have it, the culprit was my own, self loathing shadow of a soul. I despised myself for fabricating something from nothing (yet again), escalating it even further, and ultimately spreading my negative energy amongst friends who probably felt obliged to comfort me and give up their precious joyous moments to assist me in my own disastrous monstrosity of a creation. So this is how I’ve come to be an expert at pushing people away - battling with my own mind out loud, to the point where I’m unintentionally forcing others to be a part of my problem. From there, it’s a flow on effect - as the realisation in that moment, that I’ve even done that, makes everything even more cataclysmic in my head to the point where the guilt consumes me wholly. And even so during that particular night, in that astonishing horribly low moment, she was still there for me. She soothed me with her voice, calmed me down, and assisted me in forgive myself as much as I could - even if I didn’t think I deserved it. She gave me love. So why am I taking this major leap tonight, by deciding to have a few drinks, with full knowledge of the potential outcomes? Because I’m an idiot. But I’m not the idiot who’s going to shift any potential blame that may be generated from this decision against the drink, as I realise that me and blame go hand in hand now. But more importantly, because it’s my own choice and that it’s time to actually take responsibility for my actions. I’m also the idiot who wishes to gain some sense of normality back into his life, and who’s not afraid of taking some well thought out chances. I’m currently in an alright mood, contrary to everything I just relived above - and I’m learning to grasp back my sense of control, and strengthen myself. This all probably just sounds like an absolutely fucked up excuse for an alcoholic, doesn’t it? Nevertheless, I lift my glass up to her tonight for being far too good to me - cheers to you, cutie.