#they are basically refusing to talk to me and will not reimburse me for the wasted travel fees.

[dnalkaline]

STORE LINK

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Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/dnacademic (there's digital downloads of my acrylic pours in the shop here as well)

Cashapp: $hshinai

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I'm a disabled mixed Native/Filipino 2S artist and doing art stuff is pretty much all I can do.

I need to afford general QOL things for my disabilities, since my insurance will deny a lot of my treatment for completely ridiculous reasons.

I can do custom jewelry or acrylic paintings. (I also do pet portraits!) Jewelry can be done in copper or sterling silver.

Most examples of my work can be found here: https://www.artfol.co/dna If you need to grab me elsewhere: https://twitter.com/DNAcademic Or ask me for my Discord

[dilfl0v3rss]

I can just see soft and sweet ony getting a demeanor change once we piss him off real baddd and putting us in our place🫣

thank you booooo!!! i feel like these fit well so i put them togetherrrr💋💋

“cmon ma y’know i love you. please stop wit the tears” ony kept his voice soft as he watched you cry in the passenger seat of his car. “i-if you loved me..y-you’d take me to get my nails doneeee” your sentences were broken between sobs as you covered your lash adorning eyelids with your palms. hiding your face from the man next to you.

ony sighed deeply as he watched you cause a scene in the car. you literally got your nails done last week, with his money at that, but since they weren’t done how you liked you soaked them off as soon as you got home. he’s told you plenty of times that you shouldn’t have left the shop without it done properly, but you ignored him. wasting his money with tears in your eyes and now here you were crying again because he refused to let that go.

“ma you know i love you. if i didn’t i would be giving you a band right now to go get your nails and feet done, but i love you so much i’m teaching you a lesson.” you rolled your teary eyes, turning your head towards the window as well as your feet while you basically ignored his lecture. “can’t waste my money and expect me to just keep reimbursing you. ion reward that type of behavior, and this?…this little attitude you getting wit me is gon get you nowhere”

although he was right, you were just as stubborn as could be. flipping your long blonde buss down with attitude before you aggressively dug in your purse for your phone. “rewarding my behavior? pshh…ima grown ass woman” you mumbled as you scrolled through the different apps on your phone. of course ony heard you, but he decided to let you rock, continuing to drive the two of you to the ice cream shop. he was teaching you a lesson, but he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it. if there was something else you wanted he had no problem giving it to you, but as far as nails went it was an absolute no.

“ima just get my other man to get it. might suck his di-” your mumbles were cut off by ony’s inked hand around your throat. before you knew it the car was on the side of the road and he had your face close to his. you giggled as you looked at his change in attitude, not taking him serious since it’s been so long since he’s acted this way. “that’s funny huh? c’mere lemme show you what’s funny” he practically yanked you over the center console, hands gripping your ass tightly as he situated your body on top of him.

“lean over my shoulder” he grumbled deeply, eyes piercing into yours, watching the giggly attitude you just had evaporate from your body before impatiently moving you himself. he yanked your skirt over your ass, gripping and rubbing you roughly as he spoke. “you like when daddy’s mean to you? like talking about this ‘other nigga’ and getting me mad?…huh?” a hard smack was sent to your ass, making you jolt as your hand flew back to cover the burning flesh. “move your fuckin hand and answer me mama. you like actin like a spoiled brat?”

he held both of your wrists in the same hand he held your skirt up with. holding them tight to keep you from moving. your wetness was already soaking your bright pink thong as you tried to plead with your angry boyfriend. “n-no! i don’t want you mad at me daddy. i was just p-playinggg” you whimpered as you felt two more slaps get brought to your warm ass. “i don’t give a fuck what you was doing. don’t you ever say you gon call anybody when i say no, y’hear me?”

it was time to break that stupid habit once and for all. every time you didn’t get your way from ony, you thought it was cute to say some “other nigga” was going to get it done. now obviously there was no other man, but the fact that you thought it was okay to talk about doing things with someone else boiled his blood. “when i say ‘no’ then it’s final, understand?” he said in an aggressive tone. “y-yea. i hear you daddy…swear i hear you” you mumbled before abruptly being sat back into your seat, ass sore and uncomfortable rubbing against the cushion of the seats.

“glad your ears work mama. now we gon do sum about that mouth.” ony slightly pulled his sweats down, releasing his dick from its restraints before taking your hand and touching himself with it. he’s been hard since you sat your pretty ass in his car. the sight of your khaki skirt barely covering your thighs and ass making him ready to take you in the backseat, but of course you ruined that by being a brat. “come suck this dick mama”

you eagerly leaned towards his dick, giving his tip some light licks before closing your pretty lips around it. as you continued, ony began driving the two of you home, forgetting the ice cream shop as you sucked him just the way he liked. “that’s right baby. this the only dick you ever gon be sucking aight?” you moaned a “mhmm”, letting the vibrations of your voice pleasure him even more. although you were doing a great job, ony knew that you gained pleasure sucking his dick almost just as much as he did receiving it, reaching around and brushing his fingers across your panties clarified that as he looked at your essence practically drip from his hand.

“cant have you having too much fun now can i? you wont learn that way” before you knew it, his large hand was outstretched behind your head, pushing you lower so you can take him down your throat. your gagging was like music to his ears as ony released deep groans into the air. “mmshit baby. taking me deep down that pretty throat” his words only brought more wetness to your core as you gripped his thigh as tight as you could to distract yourself from the lack of air you were getting. his dick moved in and out of your mouth at a steady pace, giving you only a second to breath in and another to breath back out every time he brought your head up.

“you gon cut that shit out f’me? gon clean that act up right?” he pulled your head from his dick, groaning at the quiet pop that rang in the air as you released him. you looked beautiful. spit soaking your lips as well as your chin, hair disheveled, and eyes eagerly looking up at him as you took deep breaths of air before speaking. “i’ll fix it daddy…promise” you moaned. ony didn’t miss the small movement of your legs. thighs clenching tight together to ease the ache you gained from neglecting your poor pussy. a small smirk adorned his face. “i’ll deal wit her when we get home.” he nodded his head, glancing towards between your legs before continuing. “but right now we worried about that mouth. cmere mama” your face lit up at the thought of what was to come at home, making the wet stain in your underwear begin to grow as you let your man lead your face back towards his lap.

[barkingbarghest]

Blogging about the road trip at 6 am, under the cut bc it's long.

Days 3 and 4 were Fucking Doozies.

My reasonably well maintained 2015 Hyundai Elantra turned sour literally in the middle of Yellowstone National Park, engine light on and feeling not good through the pedals. Did you know that there's an auto repair shop at the Old Faithful geyser? It's basic of course but it's better than what we thought we had available, which was a fistful of jack shit!

Very very very nice mechanics there did some testing and long story short the problem was definitely present but neither simple nor immediately identifiable. Everyone agreed: the car was probably not safe to be driven out of the park and then another fifty miles out to our hotel.

We got a tow out of the park, and then another tow to our hotel, and don't ask me what that cost because it cost a lot. I'm working with my insurance to get reimbursement, but I refuse to count on that until the money is back in hand.

Morning of the next day, we called almost every auto repair place in town and they're all booked out 3-6 weeks, so obviously we can't do anything there. We get a /third/ long tow to the next city big enough to have a Hyundai dealership (which my insurance almost certainly will not reimburse) where they take a look.

I bite the bullet and buy a new car. Between the trade in value of my old car, plus compensation for the tow into town, they give me $2750 straight off the sticker price, and truly the guys there were all very honest. Shout out to the one guy who hated his job so much and was not shy about unloading about it to a couple of random strangers from out of town! Good luck buddy!

Today will be day 5 and we will be on the road with the new car. No further comment so as to not tempt fate, except:

Guys, everyone we've met on this trip has been so incredibly kind. The motel guests I've talked with, the hotel staff, all five or six of the mechanics we've stopped at along the way, the park staff, the tow truck drivers, the dealership folks. Truly I'm grateful to everyone I've spoken more than two words to along the road. This trip has been a practical lesson in the idea of individual, person to person, kindness and generosity, the kind that draws connections instead of boundaries and reaches out to be a neighbor.

It's 6:15 am and I'm sentimental, babeyyyyy!

[bun-parade]

I have a call with my lawyer today about suing the Rover walker responsible for walking the pit bull without a leash that attacked me and my dog back in May. Not sure what she wants to talk about other than to tell me, once again, that we still don't know who the real dog owner is, the Rover walker refuses to give out any names for the dog or the owner, and I'm basically wasting my time trying to get reimbursed for thousands of dollars in ER bills and missed work from this.

Part of me wants to tell the lawyer to just drop the case since this feels more and more hopeless. But then I'm pretty sure I'd owe the lawyer a bunch of money for not taking this to trial where she can get her cut of my reimbursement money.

[cithaerons]

so. basically after through passing customs roughly half my flight was shuffled into this corridor made of construction materials with no windows and no agents to tell us what the fuck was going on or why we were there. we stand around for about 40 min with rumors circulating about why the hell we’re there, because no actual agent to clarify. about twenty of us were all trying to make the same hour and a half connection to [my redacted final destination]. line not moving even an inch, no info, we are very literally stuck in this windowless corridor with no signs or information. eventually agents come by and tell us that our entire flight was “randomly selected” for “additional screening” involving a bag check and ANOTHER covid test. this is apparently a “new policy of customs canada” (????). (no consideration at all was made to the fact that this was going to take 2+ hours and a huge chunk of the flight had connections in under that time. we also were given no warning whatsoever that this might be ??? happening.) we ask if those of us with connections very soon can jump the line. resounding no. the agents assure tho that we’ll definitely be able to find new connections and the expenses will be reimbursed. then we finally get the end of the line (we are about ten or fifteen minutes after the scheduled departure time for our connection at this point) and we are shuffled into this room and told to “look at the screen for our name to turn green and if we see our name turn green come back up to the agent.” i see my name go green pretty soon and come up to the agent. he just tells me to “go on” (girl sitting near translates this to “go out the way i came”). no explanation. no additional steps. so i just walk out keep walking and keep walking until i finally emerge into the gated part of the airport. (i haven’t gotten any kind of additional covid test or bag check that was supposedly happening.) i go the gate - it’s about 20 min past at this point. the flight has left. they couldn’t delay even twenty minutes for the sake of TWENTY of passengers being arbitrarily delayed for ??? reason. so i (with a group of others in the same boat) go to customer service. there are no more flights to [final destination] that day. even taking into account connections through toronto / vancouver / calgary / literally any other city there is NOTHING until the TWENTY-FIRST at the earliest (today being the 19th). not only that - air canada is refusing to issue any refunds or to pay for the cost of hotels, cabs, etc. saying it’s “an issue with customs canada and they have no responsibility” so we get nada. (the girl beside me in line is a HIGHSCHOOLER traveling by herself to see her mom, stranded in this city where she knows no one, with no money, on the other side of the continent from her family. air canada tells her to go fuck herself and take it up with customs canada.) basically my best / only option is get an evening flight to [city sister lives in about ten hour drive from where i’m trying to go] and then spend all day tomorrow on standby for various flights from there to [final destination].

anyhoo. my phone is dead for 90% of this process (aside from a few initial cryptic messages to my mom about how I might miss my flight because shuttled into strange room with no info about what was going on.) in the meantime my mom somehow manages to book me what must have been the last available seat on [flight to major connecting city]. and from there i can fly to another city which is not [original final destination] but roughly a similar distance (4ish hours) from home. i see this text AFTER the whole above situation + talking to customer service for about an hour (see above) and just about cried. (but knock on wood this connection works)

so…. tentative good ending for me. but the nineteen others are (from what i can tell) absolutely fucked. one guy tried to lodge a complaint with customs canada - they told him it was all air canada’s fault and took no responsibility.

there are even more gory details to this but this post is already novel-length — like, when talking to customer service i got myself put on standby for the same flight my mom had previously booked for me (phone dead, didn’t know she booked it) and then air canada acted like i was on standby the whole time and that it has never been booked, then finally figured it out that it had indeed been booked, then the system would not print my boarding pass (just the “standby” one), the lady finally manages to override the system after playing with it for about twenty minutes. i also have not slept since 11am yesterday so i’ve been awake for over 24 hours and i’m about to start hallucinating.

anyways this has been a surreal dystopian nigthmare and i’m knocking on wood the rest of the connections go smoothly

(don’t rb pls)

[chicagosfinest2021]

I had without a shadow of a doubt the most horrid first (and last) date experience this week.

I don't want to put myself through the trauma again by giving a full play by play of what happened.

But I'll sum it up as nice as I can; basically I was once again proven to be correct in my theory that many men of my generation (i.e., millennials) have absolutely no idea how to interact with women who have high values and a high sense of self worth. The way they expect maximum benefits for minimal effort is appalling.

I did not feel safe or comfortable with him on that date, he never even said my name. Instead of taking me to dinner like we had originally talked about, I was basically his "audience" while he drove around the city, ran errands, and talked on his phone. When I told him I was hungry he actually asked if he should stop and grab me a pizza.

After a horrible evening he actually had the audacity to demand that I go to a hotel room with him. Then instead of taking me home like I asked, he drove to this out of the way parking lot downtown and proceeded to get sexually aggressive with me, I had to push him off me more than one and he kept trying to force my hands into his pants. I literally had to look him in the face and say "I'm not fucking you tonight. Take. Me. Home." Which he refused to do and still insisted that we go to a hotel.

I told him to arrange an Uber to take me home, which he couldn't do because apparently he didn't have an Uber account. I finally had to get an Uber myself and he said he'd reimburse me for the cost. Later on I took a screen shot of the cost of my Uber ride and sent it to him.

I haven't heard from him since.

The only reason I agreed to this date was because he was the childhood friend of my best friends fiancé and she had met him several times before, so they had both vouched for his character previous to our date. I also agreed to the date to prove to my friend that I don't "just date Latino men" (all of my exes are Latino). I had given Black men chances before to earn my time, but like this one. . .it turns out that all they had to offer was dick and disappointment.

I'm not saying that all Black men are the same but the one's who approach me most definitely expect me to have lower expectations for them. Or else think that I'm going to just be "grateful" for the fact that he chose to waste my time instead of a non-Black girl.

But race isn't the issue for me. The issue is when a man, ANY man decides to take it upon himself and rob me of my peace so his ego can feel temporarily validated. My issue is men who take one look at a woman whom they KNOW is out of his league, and proceed to penetrate her "bubble" and her space simply because he feels entitled to it. The one's who already know they have no desire to enhance a woman's life in any way, and just want to see how far they can get before she realizes what a loser he truly is.

If you don't really want me, why are you bothering me??

I swear these men out here need therapy but instead of seeking out professional help or counseling, they'd prefer to take the "easy" route and just seek out women for free sex.

Pathetic.

[ask-a-vetblr]

work with an er vet that constantly speaks down to clients when they don’t take her recommendations due to cost and even refuses to give pets back if we’ve done tx they cannot pay for. Practice manager barely seems to care and it’s making me hate my job. To add she’s also our medical director so it all feels hopeless. any advice or experience with something similar? Ty!

@drferox here.

There’s really two or three separate issues here.

The first is talking down to clients which cannot afford treatment at an emergency center. That’s really not professional. An ER clinic isn’t going to be talking about basic costs for preventative care which every pet owner should have factored into pet ownership, but thousands of dollars potentially blowing out into large, unexpected bills for which even pet insurance only reimburses much of it, they don’t reduce what you pay up front. Finances are at least 50% of the decision making progress in an ER clinic.

I assume they are talking about hefty, expensive recommendations and those pets are either deferring treatment until their daytime clinic opens, or being euthanised. And I’m assuming those that are euthanised have a significant cost difference for that treatment, and not something minor like $50.

I wonder if perhaps this vet earns a commission as part of her income, where you get a bonus for a certain amount of billing. That is a reason why I don’t like those models, but they’re common in corporate and encourage  this type of pushy behavior.

The next is whether it’s legal where you are for the clinic to retain the animal until it’s bill is paid. It’s generally a bad idea to do (you’re responsible for it not dying in your care and risk a social media execution) but it may also be outright illegal. Worth checking.

Third is that you already hate your job, and two managers above you seem to have philosophies that are very different to your own and causing you moral distress. If this is a corporate clinic encouraging this, I’d really consider leaving for somewhere that doesn’t focus on KPIs and clinician turnover. It’s rarely worth it.

[always-there]

About consent

OK guys, buckle up, because today's topic is depressing as hell.

Today I'm gonna talk about consent. I usually ponder about this while I cook, in the shower, late at night when I'm applying all my learned hypnosis techniques to force myself to sleep.

I was never taught about consent. All I had going for me was the classic "Rape is bad, avoid rape" chant the world of the 90's society thought was enough. All I saw were girls being advised to not dress like sluts and avoid being provocative in public. I got a good couple of different versions of that, mind you, as I grew up in a conservative Catholic school.

Nobody told us about the universe of potential situations contained within that fucking "Rape is bad, avoid rape". We thought rape happened when a man forced himself on a woman that was actively trying to resist him.

Black and white. No grey areas. Pretty simple.

I was fine with that. I was even judgmental towards victims, once I saw how they were dressed when they were attacked. Or if they were drunk or walking by themselves on areas widely known to be dangerous.

And then I grew up, entered the nasty-ass world of adults, and the Universe took pains to kick my ass in so many ways during 30 years that have finally lead to this post today.

So, I'm a list person. I like making lists. So here goes my one and only...

CONSENT LIST

• Dudes get raped too. Yeah. I know it's basic, but I scoffed at the concept for years. I know many people who still do. Dudes get raped too, get it into your mind. And no, it doesn't happen when they are effeminate weaklings. No. Any man can get raped. And they deserve to be treated as proper victims, with respect and compassion. The few times I've seen testimonies of male rape survivors, they reported even the police was skeptical or treating them like pussies or jokes.

• If your partner is sleeping, it's not consent. No, I don't give a fuck if you guys have been together for 20 years. No, I don't give a fuck if they wake up in the middle of it and decide to continue. I don't even give a fuck if they say they like it. If you touch, penetrate, make whatever sexual advance on a sleeping person, you are raping them. Any unconscious person is unable to give consent.

• If you're in the middle of it, having a good time, and suddenly your partner wants to stop... guess what, it's time to stop. You don't stop? You ask them to hang in there for just a while more until you're done? You power through it? Yeah, no. That's not consent, buddy.

• If you're ABOUT to do it, and the foreplay was great, and they were so into it, but when the time comes to actually go all the way, they change their mind... time to go home. Or put on a movie, or do whatever the fuck you want that is not forcing or trying to persuade your partner to go on.

• Subtle denial is a big-ass NO as well. They have a headache? Leave it. They are tired? Leave it. They have to wake up early the next day? Leave it. They fear a phantom clown is gonna haunt the bed if they indulge in intercourse that night? Leave-it. Don't persuade your partner to have sex if they don't feel like it. You know why? Because they DON'T want to have sex. Persuading or wearing someone down to say yes is not consent. It's pressure. Which takes us to the next bullet...

• If you insist that YES always means YES just like NO always means NO, I will smack you in the head with a frozen lamb leg. YES can be induced. Can be pressured. You can actually intimidate, scare, threaten and bully a person into saying yes. Maybe they are not ready. Maybe they are not sure about the relationship. Maybe they are not feeling well. Maybe they are fucking scared of you. It doesn't matter. If you have to lobby for it, leave it. You're being a creep.

• Drunk people. Good God. I can't believe this has to be an item. Leave drunk people alone! And I don't even mean passed-out drunk, I mean intoxicated but still dancing people, still talking people, I even mean, yes, dizzy or tipsy people. A person under the influence is not able to consent. Why do you think we drink, why do we call it a social lubricant, and other funny jabs? Because alcohol fights the restraint and common sense we'd had otherwise. It's a fun way to loosen up and get relaxed, but if someone has been drinking, don't hunt them for sex. I can't believe the number of movies and series that broadcast dudes trying to hit on drunk women. It still happens today, and not in a Law and Order episode, in your common everyday rom-com. This applies to every person under the influence of whatever substance they took that clouds their judgment.

And no, I won't hear it. They didn't put themselves in a position of danger. You are the danger, a threat that should not exist in the first place.

• So far so good, right? Well, tell me what you think about this. Let's say your partner doesn't want to have kids. And you do want them, for whatever reason. So, what do you do?

You mess with their birth control. Or you lie about you taking birth control. Or you lie about using a condom, or about the physical integrity and expiration date of said condom. Bam, presto manifesto, a bun in the oven.

That is fucking rape. And if you still need to ask why, because for whatever reason that was not creepy enough for you, I'll spell it out. It's rape, because the other person did not consent to that.

And now, if you still don't feel the need to go and take a shower until December, I have yet another list.

Are you in doubt? Are you not sure you are a rapist or not? Worry not! Below you'll find a funny little questionnaire ready for you to clear your mind and heart:

CAN I RAPE SOMEONE IF...

• ...they are dressing provocatively?

Answer: They could be walking down the busiest street of the city during rush hour completely naked and with a big, red silk bow on their ass, and still, nothing in the fucking world gives you the right to touch them. You are not entitled to another person's body because of what they choose to wear.

• ...we are dating?

Answer: Not if you are dating, not if you are married, not if the zombie apocalypse finally wiped out humanity and God himself descends from Heaven to pronounce you Adam & Eve 2.0 and gives you the task to repopulate the world. Dating only means you two are seeing each other on a regular basis for fun or to explore the possibility of a future together. It doesn't mean that your partner's body becomes your property, ergo, you have no rights whatsoever over it.

• ...they are seducing me?

Answer: Half of the time, nobody was seducing you, genius. If I have to hear another anecdote of how a bartender or barista o waitperson were throwing themselves on someone, I will barf in my own mouth. Servers are required to be nice, it's on their job description. But anyway, let's say for the sake of argument that yeah, they are indeed seducing you: no. Showing interest in someone is not an invitation to fuck, nor a provocation to fuck, so let things go their way and don't be a creepy jackass.

• ...I have done nice things for them?

This one I actually heard from a former, and I can't emphasize the former enough, friend. Their case was something along the lines of, I took her to dinner and a movie, later coffee and dessert, and one other lame activity I can't remember (probably drinks), paid for everything, took her home on my car... and then she refused to let me go upstairs!

Dude. Duuuuuude. And dudettes too, of course. No. If you want to get your money's worth, go to a proper sex worker, who will charge you accordingly for their services. Don't expect the other person to feel obligated to pay you with their body just because you fed them and threw a movie ticket in the package!

I had one friend go on a date with a guy. The date didn't work out, so they went their separate ways... until the guy showed up on her doorstep asking her to reimburse him for coffee and a donut. I shit you not. She was so dumbfounded she actually paid him back so he would leave, and I'm glad she did, because that, my friend, is rapist material on the making.

• ...they are a sex worker?

Answer: No, you creepy freak, absolutely not. Every single point I mentioned above applies to every human being on the planet and active or inactive Space stations. You cannot force yourself on anyone, you cannot violate consent ever. It doesn't matter if you're fooling around with the biblical whores of Babylon or the entire cast of Full Monty after a round of the blue pill. Consent protects everyone, no matter what they do for a living.

I'm so happy that all these points are not gonna be news for most of you. Awareness is spreading and the new generations are taught about consent since they are little kids. My generation, and most of all my generation in my country, dominated by a traditional patriarchal society, heard nothing of it. "Rape is bad, avoid rape" was taught mostly as a warning tale for girls. It was the girls' responsibility to prevent rape. Don't walk alone at night. Don't use slutty clothes. Don't be provocative towards men. Don't drink too much. Don't stare too much. Don't go to non-respectable places. Don't put yourself in danger.

I think things would significantly change if the song was played differently. Don't teach girls how to prevent rape. Don't teach boys that rape is bad and that "real men" don't need it.

Teach everyone about consent. Rape is only one of the grim consequences of violating consent. There are thousands of different traumatizing situations that could be avoided if we only respected consent all the time, if we were taught about healthy boundaries and personal integrity since kids.

But hey, we're getting there. I hope. I wish.

• Disclaimer: actually, I think disclaimers like this should not be needed, but still. In case you feel the urge of accusing me of speaking from theory... nope. I speak from experience. Personal experience. Experience I wish I didn't have, and that I had a very hard time harvesting to learn and become stronger. So yeah. Shut the fuck up, go out there and respect the shit out of people.

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 59: A Deeper Look

On Thursday, Ren got a message from Yusuke.

Yusuke: Pardon me, but do you think we could go to Mementos, just the two of us?

Ren: That’s an unusual date spot.

Yusuke: Ah! Forgive me. I wasn’t asking you out on a date.

Ren: ...I know...I was just teasing you…

Yusuke: Ah. Forgive me. I’m not used to being “teased”.

Ren: I can tell…

Yusuke: So, you forgive me?

Ren: Sure.

Yusuke: Very well.

Yusuke: So, is that a ‘yes’?

Ren: I guess…

Ren: Why just the two of us?

Yusuke: This isn’t meant as a proper traversal of Mementos.

Yusuke: Rather, I’d like to sketch Mementos if possible.

Yusuke: I would like to make it the focus of my next art piece.

Ren: So why am I coming?

Yusuke: Just for backup, if need be.

Yusuke: While we aren’t going in fully, I imagine shadows might pop up.

Ren: Yeah, that makes sense.

Yusuke: Plus, it gives us a chance to get to know each other better.

Ren: Right.

Ren: Let’s go!

Yusuke: Hold on, where are we meeting?

Ren: The usual spot, I guess.

Yusuke: Very well.

Ren and Yusuke met up and headed into Mementos.

They didn’t venture terribly far before Yusuke found a good place to begin his sketchwork. Ren began her patrol. “So,” Yusuke started asking, “how does this ‘teasing’ work?” Ren seemed confused. “I find it better to work when something else is occupying my time. Besides, one of the reasons I asked you was so that we can get to know each other better.”

“Right,” Ren said, somewhat awkwardly. “So, you wanna know about teasing?”

“Yes,” Yusuke said.

Ren was stunned. “Basically, it’s just saying things in a jokey, lighthearted tone to get a reaction.”

“Why do you do that?” Yusuke asked bluntly.

Ren continued to be stunned. She didn’t know how to react to someone with Yusuke’s disposition. So, she decided to remain honest. “Well, part of it is it’s fun, but mainly it acts as a barrier. A wall. A mask.”

“Hm,” Yusuke said. “I thought we were supposed to be getting closer.”

“We are,” Ren said. “I don’t do it all the time. Even now, I’m opening up to you.”

“Right, but why do it at all?” Yusuke pondered.

Ren paused for a moment. Any attempt at obfuscation would be met with more of Yusuke’s personal brand of blindness. In a way, it made a better wrecking ball than any aggressive attempt to break her. She sighed. “Well, you know I’m not from Tokyo originally.”

“Right” Yusuke answered.

“Back in my hometown, I wasn’t all too well liked,” Ren explained. “So, I put up these walls because I’m afraid. I’m afraid the next person I run into will hate me outright simply for just existing. If I pretend not to care, then maybe they won’t. And maybe I won’t either.”

“Huh,” Yusuke said. “I think I understand.”

“You do?” Ren asked.

Yusuke nodded. “There were plenty of times when I lived with Madarame where all I wanted to do was cry, or scream, or get upset, but I eventually grew to know that that would only make things worse.”

Ren was shocked. “Jeez. When you put it like that, my problems seem a little more trivial.”

“Ah, rest assured, I wasn’t trying to trivialize your problems,” Yusuke said.

“...Thanks?” Ren responded.

“Rather, I was trying to hearken back to our delicious hot pot celebration,” Yusuke explained. “Everyone was sharing their views on the world, and how that they’re all askew from the typical outlook. But in that askewed view, we found each other, and more importantly, we can save each other, and everyone else.”

Ren was once again stunned, but not out of confusion this time. Rather, she was impressed. She chuckled. “Thanks.” She looked at Yusuke’s sketch. “Um, if you don’t mind, why do you sketch?”

“It’s to get a reference so I can focus and take my time on the finished product” Yusuke answered.

“Right,” Ren said, running right back into Yusuke’s wit. “I mean, when Kosuke made that painting for me, he just took a picture.” Ren took out her phone. “Although I’m assuming our phones don’t function here. Which I guess is a net positive. If someone saw real evidence of all of this, it would cause problems.”

“Ah,” Yusuke said. “Well, that’s just a matter of personal preference. A lot of artists like sketching because it gives a sense of how they work with it right away. Kosuke even sketched a lot, but I’m assuming that this was more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, rather than a big plan.”

“Yeah,” Ren said.

Yusuke stopped, took a look at what he had, and said “Alright, I’m finished.” Just then, a bunch of shadows showed up. “What impeccable timing. Joker! Let’s vanquish these foes together!” Ren nodded, and the two fought the shadows. It was an easy victory. “Boy, these shadows do not know how to pick a fight they can win.” He noticed something. “What’s this? It looks like one of those cards we’ve been picking up.”

“You’re right” Ren said, getting a good look at it. “This one’s blank though.”

“Right,” Yusuke said. “Maybe if I…” Yusuke drew on it. “Ah! It became real.”

“Wow” Ren said.

Yusuke thought about this. “Perhaps the fact that this is a world based on what one perceives, maybe by drawing on it, it gives it real power.”

“That makes sense,” Ren said. “If I find any more, I can give them to you. It works out for us, plus I assume this’ll be a nice way of keeping your sketching skills up.”

“Hm. A real Theo now, aren’t we?” Yusuke said.

“Um, that’s not my name…” Ren said.

“Ah. I should explain” Yusuke said. “When I say ‘Theo’ I am referring to Theo Van Gogh, the brother of Vincent. Vincent didn’t achieve fame in his lifetime, but found a supporter in his brother.”

“I see,” Ren said, impressed. “Well, if you ever need help with your art stuff, or anything in general, then I’ll be happy to be your Theo.”

“Thank you,” Yusuke said.

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Emperor Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.

Emperor-Yusuke Kitagawa: Rank 1

“We should get going before any more shadows show up,” Yusuke said. Ren nodded, and the two quickly left Mementos.

Later that evening, Ren headed over to Untouchable to stock up. “Hey kid,” Iwai said, literally a split second after she walked in. “What impeccable timing.”

“I take it something happened?” Ren inquired.

“Well, something’s about to,” Iwai stated. “I’ve told you about Tsuda.”

“He’s the one you didn’t meet in the diner?” Ren asked, just to get her facts straight.

Iwai nodded. “He called me to set up a meeting soon.”

Ren was concerned. “Is that a good thing?”

Iwai grunted. “I doubt it, based on what we heard at the diner. Besides, out of everyone in the clan, Tsuda and I were the closest. We were practically inseparable. I know him like I know the back of my hand, and I know he’s up to something.”

“So, what happened when you, well, separated?” Ren asked.

Iwai smirked. “I asked him to come along too to be like an uncle to Kaoru, but he refused. He did help smooth things over with the higher ups though.” Ren chuckled slightly. “Hm. Anyways, let’s get back to business. I’d like to see what he’s up to, but the problem is Tsuda knows me just as well, so I can’t collect any information from my usual sources without tipping my hand.”

Ren smiled. “This is where I come in.”

“Sharp” Iwai complemented. “Tsuda knows ME quite well, but he has no idea about you. You’re my wild card.”

“They don’t call me ‘Joker’ for nothing” Ren said, a bit too excited.

“What?”

“What?”

Iwai was still confused, but decided to let it go. “Anyway, I just need you to ask around about anything big Tsuda’s done recently. “ He took out a piece of paper. “He’s a list of people who might be in the know; their general description, as well as where they’re likely to hang out. Can you investigate to see if you can find anything?”

Ren was a bit put off, because the last time she went investigating about a mobster, a former police officer got brainwashed into enacting murderous justice as his favorite superhero. Well, that’s not gonna happen twice in a row. Ren grabbed the list.

“Thanks kid,” Iwai said. “I’ll be here. You know my number. If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call, and if you get into REAL trouble, put me on speaker.” Ren nodded and headed out.

Ren searched around and found a scruffy looking guy hanging about. He matched one of the descriptions, so she approached him. “What do ya want?” he said, slightly angry at her approach.

Ren remained brave. “I’m looking for information on Tsuda.”

“Tsuda?” the guy said. “Who put you up to this?”

“That’s on a need to know basis” Ren said.

The man was curious, but concerned. “You with the cops?”

“Please,” Ren said. “I don’t trust the cops farther than I can throw them.”

The man laughed. “That's REAL disdain in your voice. Alright. You didn’t hear this from me, but apparently at the beginning of the year he struck a deal with the Hong Kong mafia for about 100 million yen.”

“Oh my” Ren said.

“That’s all I know,” the man said.

Ren nodded. “Thanks.” She took out some money. “For your efforts.”

“Heh. Keep it” the man said. “I’m a lost cause. You look like you can still climb out of whatever hole you’re in.” Ren was surprised, but walked off, nodding in appreciation.

Once she got back, she saw Iwai was on the phone. “Uh huh...yeah...of course...seeya then.” He hung up. He took notice of her. “Ah, you’re back. Find anything?”

“Something about a deal with the Hong Kong mafia worth 100 million yen at the beginning of the year,” Ren answered.

“I see,” Iwai said. “Say, did you have to pay for that? Cause I’ll reimburse you.”

Ren shook her head. “I tried, but he told me to keep it.”

“Woah, you talked to HIM?” Iwai said, surprised. “How’d you get him to talk to you?”

“He said I had ‘real disdain’ in my voice,” Ren explained.

“Makes sense” Iwai rationalized. “You told me you were arrested. I doubt that leaves much room in your heart for liking the police.” Ren shook her head. “Anyways, that was Tsuda on the phone. He just finalized the date of our meeting. So, maybe it’d be a good idea to not come around here too often for extended periods of time.”

Ren smiled. “Well then, mind if I do all of my shopping now?”

“Knock yourself out,” Iwai said. “But not really though. While they aren’t real weapons, they’re still kind of heavy.” Ren giggled. Ren proceeded to make her purchases. After Ren finished shopping, Iwai sighed. “Tell me, do you fear the unknown?”

Ren was alerted. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just,” Iwai sighed again, “I’ve known Tsuda for a while now. But ever since I left the mafia, we’ve grown apart you know. I’m just worried that the man I’m going to talk to won’t be the same.”

Ren could sense his tension, and decided to be honest. “Well, sorry, but you’ve asked the wrong girl for advice on this.” Iwai looked at her, surprised. “Aside from people I’ve met in Tokyo, I would LOVE to meet someone I’ve known for a while and not recognize them.”

Iwai got a laugh out of that. “I’ve been there before. That’s part of why I joined up in the first place. But then the whole thing with Kaoru happened, and I decided that he needed an honest shot. And if no one else was going to give it to him, I might as well try.”

He looked over Ren “Sounds like Tokyo is giving you an honest shot too. If you want my advice, figure out what’s really important before it’s too late. Once you know what that is, don’t let go.”

“How will I know what that is?” Ren asked.

“Heh” Iwai chuckled. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a smart kid. I’m sure you have something of an answer already. I’m just saying this to help you think some more.” Ren chuckled back. “Anyway, once I’ve had my meeting with Tsuda, I’ll message you, or something. Oh, and thanks for the info.”

Hanged Man-Munehisa Iwai: Rank 4

Ren nodded, and left without saying anything else.

[sweetiepie08]

RebelZ Chapter 6

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Dib flipped through the streaming services, looking for something to watch. The documentary had ended, pizza had been eaten, and Gaz had gone upstairs to fix some emergency with one of her online gaming groups. He knew he had surveillance tapes waiting for him on his desk, (or worse, college applications) but he wasn’t ready to check up on them just yet. He was actually enjoying some downtime for once, and he didn’t want it to end.

Then, he heard the all-too-familiar sounds of an alien spaceship landing outside.

Nope, he thought as he hit play on whatever show he landed on. Didn’t matter what, so long as he could pretend he couldn’t hear what was going on in his driveway.

Some muffled arguing came from the front door, followed by the bell ringing. Dib turned up the volume. Not getting out of this chair.

Loud pounding began, accompanied by cries of “Dib-human! Open this door!” Dib turned the volume up as loud as it would go as the pounding continued.

“Jesus Christ, Dib!” Gaz shouted from upstairs. “Just answer the door!”

“Fine!” Dib shut off the tv and stalked to the front door. When he opened it, he found two Irken idiots.

Zim and Tak hung off each other and drank from plastic bottles while their robot pets bolted right in and made themselves at home. “Hey, you grew into your head,” Tak said, lazily pointing her claw at him.

“You know, Dib, there’s a lot of reasons to hate your planet,” Zim slurred, letting himself in. “You keep chihuahuas as pets, some of you refuse to inoculate against deadly diseases, and that Game of Thrones finale was garbage! But at least you don’t need identification to buy gingzor, and that almost makes up for it.” Zim punctuated his short rant by taking a long swig from his bottle.

“And look,” Tak said, pulling a box of ginger snaps out of a plastic shopping bag, “they had edibles.”

“Are you guys drunk? What is this?” Dib grabbed the bottle out of Zim’s hands. He checked the label, gave it a sniff, and took a small taste. Yup, it was exactly what the label said it was. “This is just ginger ale.”

“Eee-yup,” Zim said, swiping his bottle back. “Your light brews aren’t as potent as the ones we’ve got on Irk, but it gets the job done.”

“Wait, are you guys seriously telling me your species gets drunk off ginger?”

“Why?” Tak asked, shoving a cookie in her mouth. “What do humans consume when they want to forget the futility of existence?”

“Uh, alcohol, usually.”

The two Irkens locked eyes, then burst into laughter. “Seriously?” Tak squealed, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s an antiseptic.”

“Humans really are stupid,” Zim agreed.

“Not that kind,” Dib grumbled, knowing he would be ignored. Then he felt his temper boil. “What are you two doing in my house?!”

“Oh yeah,” the two brushed past him and hopped on the couch like they owned the place. “We need to crash here for a while,” Zim explained. He turned on the tv, got blasted by an old episode of The Office, then turned the volume down.

“Why?”

“We uncovered a conspiracy behind the Irken empire and our government tried to kill us.”

“I discovered,” Tak corrected. “They just caught you harboring me.”

“Eh, details.”

“The point is,” Tak went on, “we’re both marked as traitors and we need to lay low for a while.”

Dib could have sworn his ears perked like a dog’s. An intergalactic conspiracy? There was a story here so juicy he could almost taste it. Still, as he watched the earth’s total Irken population spill ginger ale on the couch and grind crumbs into the cushions, the only question on his mind was, “why here?”

“Need your lab,” Zim tossed off as if it should have been obvious.

“So? Why don’t you go back to your base and use your own lab?”

“Can’t.” Zim took a teal cube out of his pocket and tossed it in Dib’s direction.

Dib caught it and brought it up to his eye to inspect. “What’s this?”

“My base.”

“Your whole base is in this?” Dib strained his eyes, looking at the cube. “What’s going on? How did this even happen?”

“How far back in Irken history do you want to go?” Tak asked, popping open a bottle.

“Wait, you mean you’re actually going to tell me?”

She gave a non-committal shrug. “Eh…”

“Hold on, wait right there.” Dib zipped upstairs to his room, grabbed a notebook, pen, and recorder, then zipped back down. He grabbed a chair, hit record, and poised his pen. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

[-]

Dib scribbled furiously, trying to keep up with Tak’s slurred ramblings. Zim interjected occasionally to add something or explain an Irken concept, but it was clear exactly who the conspiracy hunter was.

“So, anyway, that’s when I realized this parasite has been controlling our entire society for generations and, you know, it’s just a real buzzkill to find out you’re basically living food.”

“I see,” Dib said, making a note to ask about this library planet later (maybe get coordinates?). “And this parasite has been masquerading as the Control Brains.”

“Not ‘masquerading’ exactly,” she explained. “They always were the Control Brains.”

“And, just to make sure I got this, the Control brains are what, again?”

Before they could answer, he heard a loud “eh-he-eh-hm.” He looked over to see Gaz standing in the kitchen doorway. When he met her eyes, she curled one finger, ominously beckoning him over. “Uh, one second, guys.” He put down his pen and followed Gaz into the kitchen.

“Make this quick, Gaz,” he said, peaking back into the living room. “These two are giving me everything.”

“Okay then,” she said, her voice displaying her irritation. “Just answer me this: why are there two destructive aliens drinking like civil war amputee patients on our couch?”

“Revealing their government’s secrets, that’s what,” he answered with unbridled glee. “Turns out, ginger gets them drunk and when they’re drunk, they have no filter. They’ve been rambling on and on about their creepy big-brother-like society for an hour now. Look at all these notes.” He shoved the notebook in Gaz’s face and flipped furiously through the pages. “As long as I keep them drunk and happy, they’ll keep talking. Which reminds me…” He took out his wallet, grabbed a bill, and handed it to Gaz. “Go to the store and buy them out of ginger ale. We can’t let them sober up.”

“Five bucks?” Gaz said, wrinkling her nose. “I assume you’re planning on reimbursing me for the grocery bill later.”

“This isn’t about money, Gaz.”

“Then dig a little deeper, Scrooge. I know your part-time at Dad’s lab pays more than this.”

“And you make plenty off of your twitch gaming streams,” Dib argued. “Come on, this is about furthering human knowledge.”

Gaz raised her eyebrow in her ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ way. “You’re offering me $5 to drop everything, go to the store, and buy out their entire supply of ginger ale without reimbursing me for the bill.”

“Uh…yes?”

She scoffed. “Get a pulse.”

Dib pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his eyes. Was she seriously arguing with him about money at a time like this? “Look, what if I give you an acknowledgement when I publish this baby? Like, say, in the forward?”

“You mean the part no one reads?”

“Uh…”

Gaz let out an exasperated huff and looked into the living room at the two Irkens. “So, they’ll really ramble on and on if you stuff them full of ginger, huh? About anything?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We managed to stay on topic so far. I mean, Zim did go on a tangent about the Game of Thrones finale, but we got back on track.”

Gaz smiled. “Did he, now? About what?”

“Something about Westeros crumbling as soon as the credits rolled. I don’t know. You watched that show, not me.”

“Hmm…” Gaz murmured, looking pointedly at Zim. Oh no, she was thinking… Worse! She was plotting!

“Gaz? What are you doing?”

She threw him a wicked smirk and sauntered into the living room. “Hey, Zim!” she called, clear as a bell. “That Game of Thrones finale sucked, right?”

“Don’t even get me started, Dib-sister!” Zim called back, slapping his hand on the couch. “Zim has never seen such a staggering drop in quality!”

Dib dropped his face into his hands. Was it too late to offer a twenty?”

[-]

“I guarantee Dorne and the Iron Islands rebelled as soon as they stepped out of the Dragon Pit.” Zim said, splashing ginger ale on the couch with every gesture. “I’ll bet they only voted ‘yes’ on Bran because this would be the easiest reign to overthrow.”

“Exactly!” Gaz said, slapping the arm of her chair. “Dany promised Yara independence two seasons ago. There’s no way she’s just going to watch him hand his sister a kingdom and not demand what’s owed to her.”

Dib twisted the notebook in his hands as he listened to them rant. They’d been at this since Gaz brought up the subject.

“And what was with them acting like Dany was in the wrong for executing Varys?” Zim added. “He tried to assassinate her!”

“As if Jon didn’t execute a child a few seasons ago for the same thing. And it was obvious that kid was coerced into it by the higher-ranking Night’s Watch men.” Gaz said. “You’ll notice Dany didn’t execute the child Varys manipulated into poisoning her. And he only thought she was ‘mad’ because she stopped listening to his shitty advice.”

“Their ‘advice’ lost her the Dornish forces, the Iron Fleet, and Highgarden’s armies,” Zim agreed.

“Plus another dragon and her best friend. And when she goes into mourning, he’s all ‘Welp, she’s clearly gone mad. Time to put her down like Old Yeller.’ Oh! And what was with Tyrion’s ‘everywhere she goes, evil men die’ speech? Like that’s a bad thing? Yeah, I know. That’s why I liked her.”

“You know wat she should have done?” Zim said. “She should have flown her three dragons to the Red Keep like she wanted to do last season. She could have taken the city with fewer casualties.”

Gaz nodded in agreement. “Maybe even no casualties if King’s Landing surrenders immediately.”

“Then she’d have all three dragons and all the armies in the Seven Kingdoms to fight the White Walkers with!” Zim added.

“Yeah, then maybe there’d be enough time to make the army of the dead live up to the hype! Nice Long Night. Lasted about six hours.”

“What is this show?” Tak asked. “I want to watch.”

“Enough!” Dib burst, jumping out of his seat. “Enough Game of Thrones! If you want to keep complaining, go on the internet and do it! Now can we please get back to you two spilling the secrets of your evil intergalactic empire!”

“There are no more secrets, human,” Tak snapped. “We’ve told all. The only other information I could find is on this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a square, plastic information drive. “But this technology is too outdated to decode. So, unless you have access to an ancient computer…”

Dib took the square and held it up to his eyes. “This just looks like a floppy disc.”

“Really, Dib-beast?” Zim scoffed. “Your planet’s technology is antiquated, but it’s not that archaic.”

“Actually, that’s pretty outdated for us too,” Gaz said, “but our dad’s got a computer graveyard in the attic. Maybe we can get one of those to work.”

Tak regarded the disc suspiciously. “You’re serious? You think you might be able to get it to work.”

“It could be possible,” Dib answered, eyeballing the disc. It looked about the right size and shape. It may at least fit into the disc drive. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten Irken and Earth technology to work together. It’s worth a shot.”

[-]

After about an hour and a few trips to the attic, they found an old monitor and hard drive they managed to turn on. As the computer booted up, they compared the Irken disc drive to a standard floppy disc. Dib was right. They seemed to match up.

“You really think this has a shot?” Tak asked again. She looked skeptical they whole time the were getting set up, but as the computer whirred to life, Dib thought he could detect a hint of hope in her voice.

“It could,” Gaz answered. “If the magnetic polarity is the same as we use on earth, the computer might be able to read the disc.”

Dib nodded along. While he was good with technology, his area of expertise was more on the engineering side. Gaz was the one with an affinity for coding.

Once the computer was ready, they popped in the drive. They all gathered around the monitor and held their breath. A buffering window popped up on the screen and they let out a collective gasp.

After a few minutes, the picture went black and green Irken text scrolled up across the screen, accompanied by, what sounded to Dib, like a series of chirps, clicks, and hisses. “Um, is it supposed to be making that-”

Tak and Zim threw a sharp hiss in his direction, then went back to staring intently at the screen. When Dib quieted and listened harder, he realized the sounds came from an organic voice and had a deliberate pattern. Holy shit, it’s reading the text! This is their language!

The voice stopped and the screen froze on another set of Irken symbols.

“Oh, my…” Zim choked out, eyes still glued to the screen. “We’ve got to write that down!”

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “my tablet.”

“Wait, what was that?” Dib asked as he watched the two aliens scramble to scribble down the symbols on the screen. “Was that guy speaking Irken? What did they say?”

“Yes,” Zim answered. “And those are coordinates to the next place we need to go.”

“You mean, I need to go,” Tak cut in. “I’m the one who uncovered the conspiracy, remember?”

Zim scowled and stomped up to her, getting in her face. “You made this my problem when you crashed at my house, drank all my gingzor, and got my base cubified.”

“Why would I ever team up with you?” she shot back.

“I’m every bit as Irken as you are,” Zim argued. “I deserve answers as much as you.”

“Will someone please tell me what that thing said?” Dib shouted. The two stopped their bickering long enough to cast him an icy stare.

“Well,” Dib growled impatiently. If these two thought they were going to force their way into his home, spill ginger ale on his couch, tell him about an intergalactic conspiracy, and not let him in on the details, they had another thing coming.

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Zim snapped.

“You two waltzed in here expecting me to hide you form your creepy totalitarian government and let you use my lab. Unless you want me to throw you out on your ass…”

“Fine, fine,” Tak said, waving an arm dismissively. “That voice claimed to be Krislotch. He confirmed that he left the clues that lead me to discover the truth about the Control Brains. He also claims more information is waiting on a planet at those coordinates. I must go there next if I want to solve this mystery.”

“We must go there,” Zim but in.

“This is my conspiracy, Zim,” Tak growled, turning back to him. “If there are more answered waiting on that planet, I will be the one to find them.”

“Oh yeah?” he said with a smirk. “How you gonna get there? I’m the only one with a working ship.”

“Dib’s got a ship,” Gaz chimed in. She turned to Tak. “Actually, I think it’s your ship.”

“You!” Before Dib could say anything, Tak had already jumped on the coffee table and grabbed his collar. “You have my ship?!”

“Uhh…”

“Take me to her!”

[-]

“wha-wha…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

They group stood in the garage and stared at the collection of barely-held-together parts, also known as Tak’s ship. Dib had to admit, his last few forays into space hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing.

“It doesn’t look like this all the time,” he tried explaining. “I’ve gotten it to work. But, you know, sometimes things happen… and when they happen, I have to convince the ship to let me fix it again.”

“And why is she blue?”

“Um… I like blue?”

“Stupid human!” Tak spat, rushing up to her ship. “You have no idea what you’ve been toying with!”

“Fine,” Dib grumbled under his breath. “Only repaired it multiple times of the last six years but whatever…”

“Ship,” Tak commanded, laying a hand on the ship’s windshield. “Respond.”

“Biosignature detected,” the ship said as it began to light up. “You are Tak.”

“Yes, yes, ship! It’s me!” she cried. Dib could almost swear there were tears in her eyes.

“Hmpf, what took you so long?”

Tak looked taken aback. “I was, uh, had a lot going on, you know? Schemes and such?”

“And you never once thought to check in on your ship?”

“When I have to eject, I thought I’d lost you forever,” Tak explained, pressing both hands on the windshield. “I never wanted to leave you behind, but I’m here now. I can take you back.”

“Hey, wait a minute…” Dib protested. He started forward, but Gaz pulled him back.

“It’s her ship, dummy.”

“And how exactly did you get here?” Ship went on.

Tak hesitated. “Well, I…”

“I knew it,” Ship huffed. “You have a new ship now, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that,” Tak insisted. “Yes, I needed a new ship to get around, but I swear, it was a simple matter of transport. That ship means nothing to me. I would trade every other ship in the universe for you.”

The ship went quiet, as if thinking it over. Dib found himself oddly captivated, like when he’d accidently get sucked into his grandmother’s soap operas. He quickly shook himself out of it. This is ridiculous. She’s talking to a ship.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Ship finally said.

“I promise, Ship, I will fix you myself and, after that, I will never even look at another ship again.” She gently caressed its side and the engines purred.

“I will allow you to repair me, for now. After that, perhaps I can allow you to pilot me again, in time.”

Tak smiled and continued to pet her ship while it continued to purr. The scene was almost sweet until Zim decided to break it up.

“Well, well, well,” Zim said, a smug smile on his face, “looks like I’m the only one here with an operational ship.”

Tak only hissed in response.

“So, I guess I’ll be taking those coordinates and be on my way,” he continued, “unless someone wants to grovel for the chance to accompany me.”

Tak stomped up to Zim and unleashed a cavalcade of Irken at him. Dib wasn’t sure what she said, but if cricket/bat/snake could cuss someone out, he imagined it’d sound something like that.

“Okay,” Zim squeaked out, looking up at Tak who now towered over him. “I suppose I could let you come, but only because you asked so nicely.”

“I’m coming too,” Dib declared.

Tak and Zim both turned to him with questioning looks on their faces. “Uh, what?” Zim said.

“I’m coming. I want to see what’s on that planet, too.”

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Tak spat.

“Excuse me? Who’s house are you two crashing at? Who’s ancient computer did you use to get those coordinates? And who’s been keeping your ship running while you’ve been got?”

“We don’t need-” Zim started, but Dib cut him off.

“Yes you do,” he shot back. “You need my lab to get your base working again. You said so yourself. And Tak, you need my garage and my tools if you’re going to fix your ship. If you want to stay here and use my equipment, to fix your stuff, you need to let me in on the conspiracy.”

The two Irkens looked at each other intently, as if holding a telepathic conversation. Dib briefly wondered if they could communicate semi-telepathically, or at least through pheromones. They did have antenna after all.

Finally, they broke their stare down and turned back to Dib. “Fine, the Dib can come,” Zim conceded.

Dib felt a jolt of excitement jump through his body. “Yeah, Gaz and I-”

“Nope,” Gaz said, turning on her heals and heading back inside.

Okay, so no Gaz. Aw well, he could at least count on her to cover for him while he’s gone. “I will get my space travel equipment and be ready to leave within the hour.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Zim said, and he and Tak headed back inside as well. Dib went further into the garage and began preparing the things he’s need for the trip.

“You’re seriously going to let him come along?” Tak asked as they walked away.

“Eh,” Zim said with a shrug. “If the Dib-worm wants to come to a dead planet where total species-wide genocide took place, let him.”

Dib let the helmet he’d been holding clang to the floor. “Wait, what?”

[fuck-customers]

Multiple transactions, multiple bullshit

So here's a fun one.

Last Sunday night, I had an extreme couponer divide her order into around *twenty separate single item transactions*. To the point that when she put in her rewards number, the register started to ping me for a manager!

So I page my manager over, and we allow it (mostly to get rid of her, I think), with the stipulation that she'll talk to the Store Manager when she sees him again.

And I'm like, sure, because I want more power to be able to refuse this kind of bullshit knowing that I'd have the leadership back me up on it!

Come Tuesday. manager and I go to Store Manager together about this--because it'd slipped her mind on Monday, and that's okay, we just went to him about this *together* instead!

We ask him if we can start limiting the number of transactions per customer, as the couponers are abusing the privilege, and we've all read the Greenwals coupon policy at this point, about how Too Many of the same coupon means we don't get reimbursed for any of them.

According to him, we're not "allowed to discriminate against the couponers", as per orders from the *Regional*. Which means we *cannot* limit the number of transactions per customer.

I've been trying off and on for the past few days to find the Official Policy on this, because letting the couponers basically rob us blind is both getting old, and the Store Manager's seeming refusal to do anything about it has, to be blunt, *really* fucking pissed me off. Although the key word is trying, since I can't seem to fucking find anything regarding it. Google only returns the coupon policy, which we already have printed out in the office.

And it's just.

So. Fucking. Stupid.

[robotslenderman]

Still only partway through CP77.

Spoilers for the Death’s Head questline.

Warning: this involves my V ignoring canon, having a mental breakdown and expressing it by attacking poor, poor fucking Judy.

So like

My V was a complete fucking mess after the Heist and what happened there. Her best friend (and crush) was dead, she almost died, and she had a fucking terrorist in her head who could TOUCH HERRRR and had hijacked her body and hurt her, and she was going to die in a month and slowly lose control of her body to someone who wanted to hurt her.

She. Was fucking. Terrified. Even when Johnny offered an olive branch she didn’t trust him at all (something Judy would come to relate to, although my V hasn’t yet noticed the parallel).

So when Judy refused to give her any information on Evelyn?

V, who was absolutely scared for her life and having a mental breakdown after the death of her best friend, went to visit Judy.

With a baseball bat.

And used it.

I know this doesn’t make it better at all, but V did hold back a bit -- didn’t hit the head, pulled her punches on the body and spine, and mostly went for the legs. If any permanent damage was done, it wouldn’t be to Judy’s brain, it wouldn’t be to her hands or arms. Better she disabled Judy’s ability to walk if she went too far than fucking lobotomising her or fucking up her hands.

How fucking considerate of her, I know. V basically wanted to scare the shit out of her, made her think that other people were hunting down Evelyn (”if you don’t give me this information, I’ll just fucking kill you. I don’t need you. I can wait for someone else to find her first and drop in on them. So you better talk because otherwise you’re not getting out of here alive”), and made a big song and dance about how the only reason V wasn’t going to fucking annihilate Judy on the spot was because Jackie would never forgive her for turning into a complete monster.

Anyway. Poor Judy quickly blurted out the information about Clouds once she realised V was not fucking around. V threatened her again, then got the fuck out. And obviously hasn’t been back to Lizzie’s since.

When she calmed down she wrote Judy an apology letter. (I told my friend this. She was like “your V is fucking psycho.” Yeah.) She was like “look, I know an apology doesn’t mean jack fucking shit after what I did to you, but... idk man. send me what you owe the ripperdoc and I’ll square my debt to you.”

Yeah V, because contacting someone you fucking traumatised is a BRILLIANT FUCKING IDEA, I bet Judy wouldn’t be afraid AT ALL to send you a bill!

(Naturally, Judy didn’t reply and just sent some of the Mox. V gave them everything she could spare and told them to come back in a week for the rest. They roughed her up. She fought back enough to defend herself and eventually toss them out, but didn’t attack them because she knew that wouldn’t help Judy.)

Needless to say, when she ran into Judy at Fingers’ place Judy was NOT at all happy to see her and didn’t want to work with her at all. V basically gave her all the details she uncovered at Clouds -- by now she was actually pretty damn worried about Evelyn and she’d started coming to terms with the fact she was going to die, so she was far more concerned about finding Evelyn than getting anything from her, and was terrified Evelyn was dead.

But obviously Judy was still Mega Freaked Out and traumatised and wasn’t going to work with her. V didn’t offer, either. V didn’t try to scare Judy, but she was also a bit tetchy because Judy obviously didn’t want her looking for Evelyn still, and so V probably scared her a little still because V was like “look, I’m going to find her whether you like it or not, get out of my way. She is in big fucking trouble and I don’t have time for this.”

Judy followed her into Fingers’ room and watched her deal with Fingers. V was actually pretty calm when dealing with Fingers, then realised how fucked up it was that she beat up Judy but not this asshole, so she beat up Fingers too.

Nice, V. Way not to freak out Judy even more.

But obviously, Judy didn’t want to work with V like she did in canon. So V got the snuff film by herself. Unfortunately, she needed an editor, so this was the point where she reached out to Judy again. Sent her a text message that basically said, “This film could help me find Evelyn. Give me a time when you won’t be in and I’ll use your stuff to get into edit mode and track them down.”

V’s dumbass logic: “she probably doesn’t want to see me but I need this information, so I’ll just tell her to keep away from me.”

Judy’s response was “oh my god, even if you could do this without someone on the outside what the hell makes you think I’d let you on my tech unsupervised?!”

(V: “Oh. Right.”) “Do you want me to find Evelyn or not?”

“That’s not what I meant! Come in, but I’m operating the computer and I’m putting Mox in there with us, so don’t you dare try to intimidate me.”

“... Yeah that’s a much better idea. I just knew you wouldn’t want to be alone with me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

(V, thinking a joke might put her at ease a bit, not realising it just makes her look like a psychopath anyway.) “It’s okay, I’ll leave the baseball bat at home.”

(Judy is not at all amused.)

So the questline continues the way it does in-game, except with a very jumpy Judy. It’s when they find Evelyn that Judy is freaked out enough to be distracted from V. V carries out Evelyn, speaking to her softly.

At this point V had totally come to terms with the fact she was going to die. And Evelyn was a complete fucking mess, and Evelyn was not going to talk even if V wanted her to. So my V didn’t even bother with that, just helped Judy get Evelyn the hell out of there.

Once Evelyn was settled in Judy’s apartment (it’s only later that Judy realises “oh shit, now V knows where I live”) Judy and V’s conversation went almost exactly as it did in canon, with the exception of the more trusting/loyal responses Judy gives you, which Judy simply omitted. V also elaborated on some of the stuff in her letter -- that V was dying because of the relic slowly overwriting her presonality, and she’d hunted down Evelyn because Evelyn could give her a lead to go on to reverse the process. But V still didn’t make any attempts to talk with Evelyn. V knew she was going to die. She wasn’t going to compound Evelyn’s trauma even more. When Judy expressed concern that other people were hunting Evelyn, V was like “oh, shit, no, actually, I was bluffing.”

“...”

“I wasn’t going to kill you. I just wanted to make you think I was. I don’t know of anyone actually trying to hunt her down, and I didn’t run into anyone at all while chasing up this information on her. So either she’s in the clear and nobody wants her, or they’re being damn subtle about it. Either way, since she’s in this condition she’ll be staying inside and lying low, so that’ll help her shake off any tail she might have.”

V gave Judy some more money, though not the full amount because she’s still scraping the eddies together -- told Judy she’d make sure she was fully reimbursed before she went. Told Judy if she or Evelyn needed anything more, call her.

...

By then, after seeing her with Evelyn, Judy is not sure about my V.

After the baseball bat incident, Judy thought that my V was an unhinged violent lunatic. I mean, V was an unhinged violent lunatic -- but she’d thought my V was that by default. But obviously my V showed Evelyn a lot of empathy and concern -- genuine empathy and concern, not V trying to go “LOOK HOW NICE I AM” to Judy. She knew V wasn’t trying to show false empathy to butter up Judy because V got pissed at her in Fingers’ office for getting in the way of her trying to find Evelyn to make sure Evelyn was okay. That is, pissed at her for that specific occasion of Judy getting in the way -- V was definitely not checking on Evelyn’s wellbeing when she visited Judy with the baseball bat, but Judy tried to discourage V from going after Evelyn again at Fingers’ office and V’s response was pretty much “oh fuck OFF, she’s in a really bad situation and needs help.”

So Judy was like, okay, there’s two possible judgements you can make about V:

V is one of those people who seems absolutely lovely until she gets in a bad mood, which is even more fucking terrifying because that makes her unpredictable.

V legitimately was in the middle of a mental breakdown and Judy just happened to be really fucking unlucky in that she was the convenient target. V had said this in her letter but obviously Judy was like “What the FUCK did you really send me an APOLOGY LETTER for almost BEATING ME TO DEATH” and hadn’t really taken it seriously, but now she’s starting to think V might have actually told the truth.

Judy is hoping it’s the latter but she’s not holding her breath, and also you have to remember that even if it was a mental breakdown... it showed her exactly what V was like when she was having a mental breakdown, and therefore meant V was perfectly fucking capable of doing it again.

(Meanwhile V was thinking “If she knows I was having a mental breakdown then she knows she doesn’t have to be scared of me doing it again.” No, V. You’re wrong.)

Judy is less spooked after seeing V in action with Evelyn, but she’s still very wary of her. But after V helped her with Evelyn, Judy told her not to worry about the rest of the eddies and just accepted what V gave her then and there. V almost pushed it, but realised Judy probably didn’t want to feel indebted to someone who beat her up with a baseball bat, so she dropped it.

V later sent Judy a weighted blanket for Evelyn to sleep under. “I’ve got one, it helps when I’m stressed. It won’t make her any better, but it might give her a little comfort.”

So right now, V and Judy have an uneasy truce. V keeps her distance from Judy unless she has to, except to occasionally ask after Evelyn, and Judy keeps her distance right back.

V is, however, not sucking up to Judy or grovelling to her. All she wanted was to let Judy know she didn’t have to be scared of her (although again, Judy is perfectly fucking aware that even if it was an actual mental breakdown then yes Judy should be scared of V having another one), that Judy didn’t have to worry about V going back to have another go at her.

V’s not going to make a huge deal about what a horrible person she was. She’s... well. Even if she thought it would help, she’s got a month to live unless the omega blockers give her more time. She’s not going to wear a hair shirt over this. She gave Judy some funds for the ripper doc, she’s apologised (even if an apology feels awfully pathetic), and she’s kept away from her.

Now she’s going to go back to chasing up leads, because Evelyn is in no condition to help. Because Judy released her, she’s been able to pay off her debt to Vik, and now she’s scraping up funds to pay Rogue for help and trying to talk Hakemura out of that fucking parade because that idiot keeps trying to get himself killed and she has to stand by to haul his ass out of the fire.

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: That Was No Lady

Dorothy dates a married man and struggles with her conscience. Blanche tries to sell Rose her car.

Picture It...

Blanche interrupts Rose and Sophia’s game of Trivial Pursuit to say she’s buying a new car. She can afford it if she can sell her old car -- and, as Sophia points out, Rose needs a car. Blanche is initially resistant, as she doesn’t like the idea of selling to a friend. But she does come around to the idea and offers it to Rose. Rose initially says the car isn’t her type, but Blanche offers to let her have it on a trial basis for two weeks, and Rose accepts.

ROSE: What the heck? You only live once. Might as well be daring! SOPHIA: Rose, it’s a used car. It’s not a seat on a space shuttle.

Dorothy, meanwhile, enters and effuses about her date with a gym teacher named Glen O’Brien. She’s very excited, though she doesn’t know him very well. Rose relates how she was hit with love at first sight for her future husband Charlie, when they were 7 and 8, respectively. He had a small insurance stand, and Rose bought a policy for her wagon. When it was promptly demolished by hogs offended by the smoked ham she was hauling, Charlie paid for a new one out of pocket. The other three Girls can only look on in bafflement.

Weeks later, Dorothy is with Glen in a hotel room. She’s floating on air with happiness, and Glen professes his love for her. Everything seems to be great -- maybe too great. Dorothy asks him to go away to the Bahamas, and Glen says he can’t do it. His whole demeanor changes, worrying Dorothy. He finally confesses the truth: He’s married. Dorothy is shocked and horrified, accusing Glen of lying to her. He tries to justify why he’s still married, but Dorothy doesn’t listen and storms out.

BLANCHE: Oh Rose, wake up and smell the coffee. An auto mechanic is the last person to take a car to. They only make money if they tell you there’s something wrong with it. ROSE: Oh that’s a good point! SOPHIA: . . . Boy I wish I had a car to sell.

Later, Rose complains to Blanche that her car is making funny noises, which Sophia says sounds like a bad sign. However, Blanche talks Rose out of going to a mechanic. Sophia is amazed at Rose’s naivete, and leaves the room. The phone rings, and Rose initially thinks it’s Glen and harshly tells him off -- but it turns out to be an official from the school district, offering Dorothy a teaching job.

Dorothy isn’t ready to go back to work, as she misses Glen. Rose and Blanche play angel and devil on her shoulders, respectively: Rose thinks she needs to stay away from Glen, as he’s married. Blanche, meanwhile, thinks Dorothy should seize happiness with him, even if it’s not in the most moral of ways. The phone rings again, and this time it is apparently Glen. Dorothy turns him down, to Rose’s approval. Rose and Blanche go into the kitchen, and Dorothy immediately calls Glen and asks to meet him.

ROSE: A motel, Dorothy? A cheap, tawdry, bare-bulb den of iniquity? DOROTHY: We didn’t drive to Sodom and Gomorrah, Rose.

Dorothy returns from her date in the middle of the night and instantly gets defensive when she encounters Rose. She confirms to a judgmental Rose that she and Glen went to a motel. Blanche finds them both in the kitchen, and they continue to argue about the morality of what Dorothy’s doing. Rose is still harsh in her judgement, and Dorothy says at least Blanche can relate. But Blanche can’t: She’s never been with a married man. Sophia enters, having overheard, and firmly tells Dorothy she should have more respect for herself than to be a side piece.

Later, Sophia is rocking out on the lanai to a censored song. Rose comes running in, frantic. Blanche also enters and confesses the truth about the car: It’s a piece of junk, and she was hoping to pawn it off on Rose for full price to pay for her new car. Rose says it doesn’t matter now: The car’s been stolen. When Sophia points out the insurance will reimburse Blanche the full price for the stolen car, Blanche is ecstatic. Dorothy enters and Sophia chastises her again. Dorothy begs her mother to leave her alone, as she’s happy, but Sophia doubts that, especially as Glen isn’t going to leave his wife.

ROSE: Blanche? Was the gist of what you were saying before that you intended to cheat me? BLANCHE: Cheat you? Rose, you just analyze everything to death!

Dorothy is in a motel room with Glen (the same motel room from the last time we saw Glen, strangely), and tells him they need to talk. She says she doesn’t want to be the Other Woman, and Glen isn’t willing to divorce his wife, so the relationship isn’t going to work. Glen continues to try and justify staying in his marriage, but Dorothy says he’s trying to have it both ways, and that’s not fair to her. She tells him she’ll hurt after this, but it’s the right thing to do, and walks out.

Dorothy returns home and tells Sophia, asking if her mother’s still angry. Sophia says she wasn’t angry, just concerned to see Dorothy in so much distress. Blanche and Rose return, and ask if Sophia and Dorothy want to go cruising in Blanche’s brand new car. Dorothy initially says she just wants to relax after the day she’s had, and the other Girls agree. After three seconds of silence in the kitchen, Dorothy’s had enough.

DOROTHY: Boy, this is DEPRESSING. Girls, let’s go cruising. BLANCHE: Hey, I know a place where guys wrestle naked in the mud!

“Another date with Mrs. O’Brien’s husband?”

Episodes that deal with the Girls struggling over moral issues are a thorny one, because Golden Girls can -- and does -- handle such quandaries well. This episode, however, isn’t a particularly engaging one. It’s not a total letdown, as it’s saved by the B-plot and Sophia being the voice of reason for everyone involved.

The whole quandary at the heart of the episode is basically, “Dorothy sees married man, tries to make it work, and then realizes it’s not worth it.” If you want to see a nuanced take on infidelity . . . I don’t know, watch The Women, or something, because that’s not what this is. It boils down to Dorothy realizing that the arrangement is too morally wrong for her, and that’s basically it.

DOROTHY: His name is Glen O’Brien. ROSE: Where’d you meet him? SOPHIA: His name is “O’Brien.” Two-to-one, she met him at a gin mill.

Dorothy realizing that Glen’s absolute refusal to leave the wife he claims to no longer love is incredibly unfair to her is a good moment, but the process it takes to get her there is plotted strangely: She insists, right up until the final moments of the episode, that she’s not going to stop seeing Glen and that she’s comfortable with doing the “wrong” thing for the sake of her own gratification, but then switches in those final moments. Sophia keeps insisting Dorothy’s morally conflicted about it, but she denies this right up until the end. It’s not that I don’t buy Dorothy’s internal conflict -- I just would have appreciated it if she herself acknowledged it at some point before the break-up.

Rose and Blanche representing the different moral stances on the matter is also a little unusual. While Rose is coming at it from the morally correct stance, the show makes her judgmental attitude unbearably smug, possibly to make it a little more understandable when Dorothy ignores her. It’s also strange that Blanche is so insistent that Dorothy continue the affair when she later admits she’s never had one herself and didn’t think a married man would be worth the effort -- oh, and it’s also a little mean that Dorothy and Rose just assume Blanche has at some point slept with a married man.

There’s one omission that’s so glaring by its absence that I can’t help but feel a scene or line was cut somewhere: You’d think that, at some point, Sophia would call Dorothy out on the fact that, as a victim of a cheating husband herself, she should be the last person to try to justify an extramarital affair. Even just a single mention of Stan’s name would have been a very effective way of Sophia getting her point across, but it doesn’t happen, and I don’t for the life of me know why.

SOPHIA: So you started up with your married man again. DOROTHY: How did you know? SOPHIA: I’m the Amazing Kreskin. I was listening at the door. DOROTHY: Oh Ma. SOPHIA: Oh, I can’t put my ear to the door, but you can put your--DOROTHY: Ma!

It’s a shame, because the hypocrisy is what makes Dorothy the perfect protagonist of this episode. Her very first spotlight episode was her tearing into her ex-husband for his blatant infidelity, and yet she’s doing everything she can to justify being the Other Woman, trying to find a way to reconcile her morality with her emotions. It would have made the ending, in which Dorothy realizes that she wants to be better than her ex-husband, mean so much more.

For the record, this episode doesn’t do Dorothy any favors by the way it characterizes Glen. Maybe the actor, Alex Rocco, just lacks the necessary charisma -- when this character comes back played by Jerry Orbach in a later episode, it’s much more obvious why Dorothy is attracted to him. Or maybe it’s just a matter of time constraints: Here the character gets maybe three lines of dialogue before he confesses and starts trying to justify himself, and I don’t know if even Jerry Orbach (or any actor, for that matter) had enough charisma to make that work.

Something about the way Glen is written is just... slimy. While he professes to love Dorothy, his dialogue is just littered with manipulative bullshit. When he first tells Dorothy the truth, she immediately gets mad at him for lying to her, and he says, “I couldn’t lie to you. That’s why I told you.” Dude, you did lie to her -- you dated her for three weeks before you told her you were married! Then, when Dorothy breaks up with him, he says, “Please think about what you’re throwing away,” implicitly making her the bad guy who’s ruining the relationship, when he’s the one who’s creating the problem by trying to have his cake and eat it too.

BLANCHE: What’ll you give me for it? ROSE: Oh I couldn’t buy your car. It’s not my type. I want a car that says, “Practical.” Your car says . . . “Available.” BLANCHE: Well just take off my personalized plates.

I do like the B-plot of the episode, because it does exactly what a B-plot needs to do in a serious-ish episode like this: It adds levity and makes the final scene after the painful break-up funny, so the episode ends on a light note. I mean, there’s no rhyme or reason to Blanche saying she knows a place where men wrestle naked in the mud, but goddamn do I need that laugh by that point.

This is also one of the better episodes when it comes to balancing all four Girls evenly across both plotlines. Blanche and Rose are equally preoccupied with the B-plot, while Dorothy gets the lion’s share of the A-plot. In previous episodes, when this has been the case, Sophia’s gotten short shrift, usually consigned to a handful of lines -- though usually, they’re all the best ones.

In this episode, however, Sophia’s the connective tissue that ties the two plots together, being the rational one to point out the problems with Blanche and Rose’s car loan, and also being the voice of Dorothy’s conscience. It’s also one of the first episodes that really makes use of Sophia as an older mother/mentor figure to the other Girls.

One thing to note is how this episode has been edited strategically for copyright reasons: In both the Hulu and Amazon versions of the episode, they’ve carefully cut around Sophia rocking out on air guitar to a particular song on the lanai, probably because neither company owns the rights to the song she’s singing along to. For the record, it’s “Purple Rain,” by Prince. Here’s what the scene looks like on the DVD release:

I really wish they hadn’t cut this part out of the episode, even if I understand the underlying copyright reasons, since it’s actually very appropriate. “Purple Rain” has lyrics about not wanting to be someone’s “weekend lover” and how the singer “could never steal you from another.” I know that’s not what Prince said the song was about, but with a strictly surface listen, it sounds very apropos to the episode’s story. Also, the part where Dorothy expresses her frustration with Sophia by twisting the volume knob all the way up and blowing out Sophia’s ears is pretty hilarious, not going to lie.

By the way, there’s also a weird subtitle censor in the Hulu version of this episode. Blanche in the opening scene quotes her great-grandfather as saying two things you never sell to a friend are a car and a slave -- “because if either one of them quits working, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Hulu changes that second word to “sleigh,” which I found amusing.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode:

BLANCHE: Oh honey, you’ve been hit by the thunderbolt. Love at first sight! It happened to me once. SOPHIA: Once? You’ve been hit by more lightning than the World Trade Center. ROSE: I was hit by the thunderbolt once. SOPHIA: Probably a direct hit to the forehead.

[i-am-parsec]

                                                                                                              11/02/2020

Hey, so...I had a bit of a crisis a couple days ago and now I’m here, writing again. I think I can still picture your smug look whenever I’d admit I was “wrong”, even if my memory is very unreliable these days, I can still see it and I know for a fact that’s the look you’re giving me right now. You little shit.

Um, they are probably not gonna like reading that. They don’t like it when I “pretend I can actually communicate with my missing, most likely already dead ex husband”. Weird, right? Like I don’t see how that would disturb them, ha.

I suppose I now should explain to you who “they” are. I’m talking about my doctors, Dr. Richard Willson and Dr. Alexandra Freias, who, little fun fact, my sister hired solely on the basis of her being 1. A woman and 2. Latina. I guess she thought I’d “bond” better with someone who looked more like, but the funny bit is that Dr. Freias’ mother is Russian and she looks like a photocopy of her mother. What I’m trying is that, not only was my sister’s idea dumb, she also did a terrible job at executing it because my doctor looks white as hell. She is nice, though, and I’m grateful about that. And no, Dr. Freias, I am not writing that just so you’ll forgive me for destroying your brand new phone yesterday but yes, I am very sorry about that, or at least as sorry as I can be these days and I promise my dumb sister will replace it as soon as possible.

I’m gonna have to get used to the idea of these letters having a bigger audience than before. In the sake of my little agreement with my lovely health professionals, I’ll be open and honest and admit...I don’t like it, it makes me uncomfortable to share this, my only safe space, with people who are basically strangers to me, but I am aware this decision was taken for the sake of everyone's peace of mind. When I’m writing, I’m focused, more relaxed, less prone to spiral down after Dr. Willson gives me a mocking look and sighs at the mention of your name, Chase, so this is a good thing: I get to talk to you and my doctors get a bit of insight on what’s going on inside my mind without me losing my shit and breaking everything around me, something they claim to desperately need.

I am a woman of my word, so I will continue this little daily exercise if that is what everyone thinks is best for me, even if I can’t help but laugh at the idea that this might give them any kind of extra data about me or you or anything related to this mess our lives have been for the past couple of years. I’ve already told them everything, from the very beginning. They refuse to listen, I refuse to give in and spew the nonsense they are trying to feed me instead of the truth I already know, then we all get frustrated and eventually...we start the cycle again. Circles, we are just going on and on in these fucking circles and it does annoy me, but I guess I have accepted it to a certain degree - I’m stuck. This is my life now, an eternal retelling of the hell I’m trapped into, while being trapped within said hell. 

I am lost here, Chase, lost and blind. But I keep moving, even if I know how it is all going to end, I still walk. I walk towards you, mi amor. You are my North, my compass in a world without poles, paths or direction. Ever since we were kids I’ve been doing that. You gave me purpose in a pointless world, a home in a deserted land, a glimmer of Hope among absolute darkness...so I’ll do my part, I’ll take my medicine, I’ll go to my appointments, I’ll write my letters. I’ll be good, I swear, for you, for the kids, for my sister - who bends over and backwards for me, even if I can’t seem to forgive her-, hell, even for my doctors, who refuse to actually listen to me but also refuse to give up.

Oh, before I go, in case you were wondering why I had the mental breakdown: I was telling the doctors about our wedding and it hit me that it was the 31st. I got quiet for a second, a bit teary and informed them that that day would have been our ten year anniversary. I laughed when Dr. Freias pointed out that we got married on Halloween and told her it was on purpose, that you love this holiday so much that you begged me for months to let you proclaim your undying love for me in front of our few friends, both of us being in full costume in our tiny backyard.

That’s when it all went sideways. “Undying love”. Dr. Willson just had to remind me with a smirk that we are divorced. I would like to explain in more detail what happened after that but truth be told, I don’t know. Last thing I remember was staring at him, my whole body shaking and then, dropping under water. It's a familiar sensation by now, but it never gets less disturbing or less violating. When I was back in control of my body, the room was a mess, I had three men holding me down and Dr. Willson’s forehead was bleeding.

I do not forgive him for the unnecessary remark about my civil status but I do regret, greatly, ever hurting him and I appreciate him not quitting. I don’t know why he wouldn't, I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with a new smug asshole who thinks they have the right pill and therapy combination to fix my unfixable brain. At this point in my life, I will always rather stick with the devil I know than the devil I don’t, and besides, Richard is no devil. I should know.

It’s late now, almost 8, so I’ll send this to Dr. Freias and be on my way to bed. See you there, my love.

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Link to all the chapters in chronological order, here. Link to the last chapter, if you can even call it that, here.

Well. Here’s the thing. I am too broke for therapy and too uninspired to write anything original that could probably be more nurturing to my soul than a fanfic that I started 2 years ago...so I’m here, back to my bullshit. And also, Sean is finally dropping some new crispy fresh ego content so I guess...I’m doing this. I’ll be posting daily, the quality will be shit, there might be no actual progress to the plot and it is going to be mainly me just using Stacy to vent. I have little to nothing going on in my life right now, and I vaguely remember I used to get joy from writing so in order to get even the slightest bit of serotonin, I set myself the goal of writing everyday, no word minimum or special prompt in mind, I’m just going to write, and if it’s good, great and if nobody reads, fine. I’m just trying to get back whatever pieces of myself I can find, which I think is a feeling this character can very much relate to. That might be why I’m returning to her.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I was very invested in her before I fell in love and then I was so engrossed in my relationship that I completely forgot about her and then I had my heart broken in a million tiny pieces, losing any kind of sense of self or purpose in life and now, almost six months after my first real breakup, I’m trying to rebuild myself and I secretly hope that going back to Stacy, a character that was very dear to me, I can find whatever it is that I’m looking for. Maybe, but who’s to say?

Anyway, if you read all of that bullshit (and I mean the whole post, not just my after-chapter ranting), I feel like I owe you some kind of reimbursement for emotional damages. Sadly, I’m poor, so all I can offer you are memes. You can slide on my DMs for your payment of memes. Do not feel the need to ask me how I’m doing, I am doing Fine...in the sense of I will not be yeeting myself from a rooftop any time soon, no matter how sad I might sound, I’m just a whiny bitch using writing as a coping mechanism. I’m okay, like not really, super mega hyper ok but I’m ok. If you’re concerned, I appreciate you but don’t be. I’m writing to deal with my feelings, that’s like, healthy, right? So yeah, we good. 

see u tomorrow

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[bun-parade]

I have a call with my lawyer today about suing the Rover walker responsible for walking the pit bull without a leash that attacked me and my dog back in May. Not sure what she wants to talk about other than to tell me, once again, that we still don't know who the real dog owner is, the Rover walker refuses to give out any names for the dog or the owner, and I'm basically wasting my time trying to get reimbursed for thousands of dollars in ER bills and missed work from this.

Part of me wants to tell the lawyer to just drop the case since this feels more and more hopeless. But then I'm pretty sure I'd owe the lawyer a bunch of money for not taking this to trial where she can get her cut of my reimbursement money.

[groundinglove]

okay so alsooooooo i just try really intentionally to maintain peace in my life and because i know the world is crazy and there's a lot of shit i can't control, build spaces where i know i can go to rest, decompress and rejuvenate

and my built safe space has been disturbed and i'm pissed (there's quite a but so here's a read more for your convenience)

i don't keep my room clean or even stellar, there's a lot of clean clothes on the bed and in baskets, SO many different kinds of hair products all over the place, misc. office supplies and stationary (because yes, i have an ISSUE), probably lil weed granules all over, whatever whatever- i know where things are when i need them, and can still enjoy spending time in the space, and most of all rest there when i need it.

when it comes to shared spaces, in this case the kitchen, i ensure that i always clean up after myself out of sheer respect and my roommates are not on the same page- grown ass men don't know how to clean up after themselves and as someone who PAYS to live here, it's certainly not my job to tell them how to do so. Long story short, i was literally woken out of my sleep because i heard scuttling and ruffing beside my bed and at first i ignored it because i thought something just fell (shit falls sometimes) but it kept going and i KNEW that was a creature intentionally trying to get into some shit (fortunately, i don't keep food or snacks in my room anymore)

call it an irrational fear, call it privilege, whatever, i shouldn't have to live with fucking mice in my room because my dirty ass roommates don't have basic home training. i refuse to understand how y'all are smart enough to get into the same ivy league institutions but don't know how to wipe the ELECTRIC stovetop off (i already brought y'all the damn disinfectant wipes AND surface cleaner AND papertowels) after you cook a meal or yanno clear all the crumbs left on the counter top before you go upstairs for the night

AND you knew the mice was enough of an issue to put down glue traps (which you realized weren't working) but didn't tell your third roommate (what's the group chat for then...), didn't tell the landlady because..... you wanted to wait for her to come back in town although she won't be here for damn near three weeks, and y'all still don't clean up after yourselves. NOTED!!!!!! underlined, highlighted, italicized, allat.

so if you were wondering, no i don't feel bad that i straight up went to buy better mouse traps AND a nifty grabber cause i'll be damned if i'm picking up dead mice with my HANDS and sent the receipt to my landlady telling her to let me know how she'd like me to move forward to get reimbursed along with photos of the nasty ass kitchen space that i've been collecting over the past few days cause i had a feeling something was going to come up.

my mental energy is thrown off, i hate having to check traps every time i walk by them to see if it caught something, i hate feeling like i'm seeing things scurry from the corners of my vision, i hate that i spent an extra half hour in my car this morning cause i didn't wanna come inside (pulled out my laptop to play stardew valley and allat, my neighbors even asked me if i was good once i finally got out the car- and we don't talk like that), i hate that i wanted to spend this weekend cleaning up (before i knew about the mice) and now i'm too freaked out to go into my room and have been hiding out in the living room all day, i hate that i don't know if i'm going to be able to fall asleep here tonight, and most importantly that this is inadvertently accelerating my decision and process to move in with my s/o in an effort to get out of this apartment... i'm ready to pack the shit up and GO