#or think that Ivan is a horrible abuser rather than someone who has also been heavily hurt from the war

[into-september]

Sole Crusher

 Some clip running on autoplay had what looked like André trying to console Zoé and honestly those two finding each other would make everything worth it.

SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT

- WHO ARE YOU, DISEMBODIED PERSONAL TOUR GUIDE LADY

- Marinette once again demonstrates her utter ignorance of the concept of “bad parents”, and “the people you love” shall for Zoé then be ~friends~. Which I don’t usually have a problem with except the implications that these friends will be Kitty Section and while I don’t mind the individual members I, uh. Really wish Kitty Section would just break up already.

- This is a meet cute

- Marinette… has a thing for befriending the friendless, but the only one of them who has gotten even close to being being friendless because they are genuinely socially incompetent has been Marc, and even he was just adorably shy. Kagami should count but the story frames her loneliness as the result of her mother, not her massive awkwardness (it suddenly strikes me re. “Mr Pidgeon 72”, but Kagami has been shown to hang out with Kitty Section a number of times now, and with Marinette’s friends on the insta. Are you SURE you’re her only friend, Marinette?)

- Marinette displays the universal notebook of the easily distracted

- No favouritism going on with mother of the year at least, though not very surprising. Zoé has also clearly been taught to play the part of pleasing her, though not internalised it.

- “Oh Chloé, never change,” I kind of want to say, but the way this show is going she WILL probably have to change some way or the other and if that’s the case I’d rather it be the other way

- Heyyyy is that the kid who was unmasked as Cat Noir at the pool

- oh my god Sabrina

- one day I might talk about Sabrina, and the fact that Chloé is still in her photo in the OP, and the fact that they’re both still in the good guy corner in THAT regard because I’m pretty sure Lila is not there. Boy howdy is Sabrina a conflicted case for me.

- “Cockroaches in her locker” sounds like the dumb man’s version of “Operation: Anthy is a weirdo who keeps a snail in her pencil box”

- things I did not expect out of this episode: The answer to which “A. Bourgeois” made that film with Adrien’s mum. Anyway holy fuck the one thing I wanted out of this episode really happened. Jesus. I did not dare hope but I got it anyway.

- Also: Beneath Emilie’s portrait is that of a woman with Kagami’s face and longer hair and does this mean that André, of all people, is the link between Gabriel, Audrey and Tomoe

- So Gabriel, are these feelings of “being rejected by your family” anything you’ve picked up closer to home? Like, say, the back of your mansion?

- Anyway, welcome to Paris. Be like a native and get akumatised.

- Of all the places Chloé would chose to hide, but hey I’m not complaining

- Either the kwamis all know Cat Noir’s identity, or they can instinctively find each other. Either way I liiiike that we’re getting to see their powers go haywire.

- This is a kind of interesting three-way battle between Marinette, Hawkie, and Chloé.

- Also her telling CN to shut up while she’s giving her civilian friendship speech

- “Please don’t tell my wife about this” oh god the red flags in millions and the fact that I still can’t tell whether this show recognises abuse as abuse because it’s still ~funny~ that Sabrina is doing Chloé’s homework in the closet

- I mean, it IS funny, but only because like all of Chloé (as this episode well illustrates) is so caricatured. Audrey is just… not caricatured enough, some times. Chloé is ridiculous and that’s why we laugh at her, but I’ve known people uncomfortably close to Audrey.

- the irony of Ladybug’s new charms being shaped off of their akuma form

- Once again Adrien is at Kitty Section practice. No Kagami though.

- Zoé’s great big speech o’loneliness is a lesson for us all in telling vs showing and this ending is, for lack of a better word, mawkish. But I like seeing Ivan do something, because I don’t think he HAS ever since. Well. “Origins”

End takeaway: The best thing to happen this episode was André Bourgeois and I ain’t complaining about that. But Zoé is… well. Interesting as someone uncomfortable as the social chameleon? A commentary on Adrien and Lila? Clearly set apart from Chloé who isn’t acting?

Attempts at fitting in with her toxic family aside, she’s just another nice kid who is Marinette’s friend, but this show already has a good dozen other nice kids who is Marinette’s friend. What makes Zoé interesting isn’t anything at all about her as a person, but how she relates to her family.

Which, speaking of, illustrates one peculiar aspect here: The Chloé-Audrey synthesis. The two were introduced by their separation which Chloé desperately wanted to bridge. The separation was bridged - by Marinette of all people - by telling Audrey that Chloé was a horrible, horrible person. After that, Audrey’s appearances have mostly been to act in tandem with Chloé, which she still does at the end of this episode. Does she want to send Zoé away because she’s genuinely cares what the girl does? Is she genuinely upset because of who Zoé’s friends are? Her early interactions with Chloé did not suggest that she’s someone to care enough to pay attention to what her offspring is up to and who they friends were. Yet in both “Maledictator” and here, she’s used as little more than the adult extension on Chloé’s demands. Before Audrey returned to Paris, André would occasionally put his foot down; now, Chloé gets her will by drumming up her mother’s support, because André does not oppose his wife. This is a weird continuation of the beginning where Chloé was struggling to emulate her so as to get her attention. The implication seems to be that Audrey changed her mind about Zoé because Chloé changed her mind about Zoé, and that is a strange inversion of how the Chloé-Audrey relationship was first introduced.

I’m not holding my breath for any more Zoé-André bonding, since the episode also ends with pretty clearly placing Zoé outside the family to which André is still inside. She seems set to be the Harry Potter to the upper class Dursleys. The moral, as it stands after her first episode, is that Zoé exists to be what Chloé should have been. Here’s to hoping that she’ll be something more than the blunt vessel of making a point that never needed to be made in the first place.  

#let's watch cartoons #miraculous ladybug #mlb meta

[philipsrose-blog]

Crazy 8 (Part 4)

So, I got back to my shelter last night and learned that 2 sweet old ladies from the Metropolitan Community Church had come to visit me. Fucking bullshit!

First off, no church is going to sand 2 women into the fucking field, especially to speak to someone as close to the bitch, Tina, as I am.

Fucking Terry, that crack head mother fucker called the fucking cops!  I never even laid a fucking finger on that mother fucker and he called the fucking cops! And that worthless cock sucker was the one that fucking told that fucking ugly fat tranny wanna be Moshe that I had either abused or neglected Sally Pickles. I fucking hate that mother fucker and hope he fucking spends the fucking rest of his fucking life alone and fucking miserable!

Anyways, I got a few hours sleep and hit the streets to become invisible, unseen, forgotten, just as my beloved Ivan has done. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that.

I was also made aware that Ivan is gone. He fucking left without a fucking word! Can you fucking believe this fucking shit? Can I fucking believe it? Unfucking real I tell you Unfucking real! But sadly, it is real. I couldn't fucking make this shit up if I fucking tried!

Sitting there in an empty apartment an idea came to me, New York City. Yeah, Manhattan.

I longed for a change, an escape from you know who, the bitch, Tina. I was broke., Philip wasn't talking to me and I had 24 hours to vacate the fucking apartment. Yea, I had been fucking evicted! My life was over. My Mon had agreed to take temporary custody of Sally Pickles and she paid for my Amtrak ticket to New York.

I had no plan. I had no money. I had no fucking clue what the fuck I was going to do. I just did.

And now the fucking worst of the very worst possible news. That fucking cunt minister, she killed Sally Pickles!She grew tired of running, of hiding, of living in the fucking shadows. And rather than doing the right fucking thing she murdered my Sally Pickles? What fucking kind of fucking insanity is this mother fucker nightmare?I

Fifty dollars doesn't go far when you're riding the fucking rail. The phone rang, my cell, it was Philip.

"Where are you?"  He wined. Philip, I have to get clean. I lost the fucking apartment, so I'm headed to New York to get clean so I can come back and marry you. "No you're not. Stop." But I was. Look at your Grindr. We would use Grindr to check up on each other and chat during the day and when he was cooking. "I'll fucking kill you! Get off that fucking train! I'm begging you please don't do this." He had begin to cry. Philip, I have to get clean, at least 30 days so we can get married. Remember you promised? "Do you please promise you're gonna try and if you can't you'll come back?" I wish I could just come back now. But Philip, I can't fucking stop! And yes, I know there's Meth in New York, but at least I won't know where to get it and there'll be no one there to give me credit just because we fuck. Then he sent me that picture, forever engrained in my heart.

I died without Philip. I'm dying without any beloved Sally Pickles. And I'm will surely perish into some hellish oblivion and be tormented for all eternity without Ivan, my husband.

Looking around me there's only one way I know to escape this fucking hell I'm stuck in, this unbearable unending nightmare. The bitch,Tina. My favorite crazy 8.

But that's only temporary and permanent is what I need, what I long for. And on top of all this mother fucking shit, I just got robbed! Some nigger mother fucker pulled a fucking 38 on me and took $538 from me. And if that wasn't bad enough that nigger crock sucker hit me over the fucking head with the butt end of the gun.

Now let me tell ya, I say allot of shit in anger that I don't mean. But you'd better fucking believe this! Payback is coming and a whole lot of mother fuckers are going to pay. Some will defiantly get hurt. Some may die. I've just lost too much and now it's time to fucking take.

I'm this, I shall escape the madness!

I'm gonna do it. sometime on November 3rd or its vicinity I swear I'm going to end my worthless fucking life if I have not reclaimed my Sally Pickles. I want to die without Sally Pickles in my life and no one can do a mother fucking thing to stop me, no Ivan, no Sally Pickles, no life, no fucking tomorrow.

Plain and simple, the bitch, Tina, she can claim one more.

So, my plan is to die, to end my life alone at the Hotel Pennsylvania. I love that fucking place! I mean like, if you're gonna fucking do it, do it in style! Put on a show! Put on quite the show.

I'll procure a fucking ounce and ride it into oblivion. I'll rent the fucking room for 3 nights and slam 2 crazy 8a the first night, 3 the next and the fatal blast probably a quadruple crazy 8 on the last night. They will find me with a big ass needle in my arm and a giant dildo in my ass. And that's how this story will end.  I'm even going to broadcast it for the whole fucking world to see. But I'll keep writhing till then. I'll put on quite the show!

I mean, hey. You may as well enjoy the fucking shit show the bitch,Tina, has made of my fucking life! It really is quite the show!

And maybe you'll get the fucking clue that the bitch, fucking Tina is evil and you'll make the choice I should have made. Maybe you ill just fucking say no!

But who cares, right? You just wanted to read about some crazy mother fucker who can shoot up the crazy fucking 8!

Giving it some thought, maybe I'll die with dignity, dressed to the nines. Ah, who the fuck am I fucking kidding. I'll put on the show, the last show, I'll put on quite the show!

I have no fucking plan on surviving the fucking show. I will die.

I didn't give it much thought. The fucking pills slid down my throat like water. I had committed suicide. I have to fucking guess the fucking beer played a part in it. But death was too slow in coming and wouldn't you fucking know it, I pussied out. And then death came. But I had changed my mind.

Lying there, wondering, no, begging God, a God who fucking ignored me once again, for my husband, my  beloved Ivan to return home the fucking minutes drew out like centuries. In my soul I knew he was not coming home again, not then, not ever.

"I need you to think of something that's not causing you this pain! I know you're hurting Mr Dudnik but I need you to find the courage to fight! You've been dead for 2 minutes and 11 seconds! I'm not going to allow you to die tonight!"

I couldn't fucking believe it! I desperately wanted to escape the anguish of my beloved husband Ivan leaving me, walking out on our marriage And who the fuck was this doctor?  And why would that worthless mother fucker bring me back! But back I was, utterly useless and alone, without hope, without my beloved Ivan who I do now and finally confess I loved a million times more than I ever loved my Philip.

I could think of no one else. And suddenly the fucking thought came to me. What if he he'd gotten caught jumping the turnstile? Oh fuck! Ivan's gonna be so upset. How the fuck could I do this to him!

Every time he looks at Sally Pickles he's gonna fucking think of me! Oh God please! I need to live for Ivan, for Sally Pickles, please!

As the hours went by in strange consciousness, sometimes waking up an hour or so after my previous awakening, yet being some hours earlier in time, I wondered if I had died and would be stuck on that stretcher for all eternity.

Later they weaned me off the respirator and as they pulled the tube from my throat it felt as if they were tearing my throat apart. Then I was move to a locked psych ward for having attempted suicide.

I was in pretty fucking horrible shape, I gotta tell ya. But not nearly as bad, emotionally as I am at this moment.  I went over to the courthouse to get a copy of my marriage certificate to comfort me as I mourn Sally Pickles. What the fuck do you mean I'm no longer fucking married? There will be no more tomorrows for me.

My beloved husband Ivan who I love more than life itself has annulled our marriage. I collapsed right there and vomited all over myself.

Then, in a last ditch effort to rekindle a moment we had shared some 3 nights earlier, a night where we had dinner and were headed to a gay bar to pick up an ounce and fuck for a few days, I headed over to the criminal courthouse to drop the charges against my beloved husband Ivan for the beating he had given me some months earlier. It was there and then that my universe imploded.

Ivan tried to have me arrested right there in the courtroom! And for the first time, I saw the purest form of hatred in his eyes! It was as if, how dare you fucking come here! The court officer, being made aware of the mutual restraining orders told me to seek out Ivan's attorney outside the courtroom. So I waited.

Suddenly Ivan exited the courtroom and began speaking to this really old guy in a gray suit. It was his attorney, so I approached and Ivan hid behind him.

I'm here to drop the charges. "You don't drop the fucking charges!" I was puzzled . After the other night I gave it some thought. "What other night? Ivan what's he taking about?" We had dinner the night, don't tell the judge and we were gonna fuck. 'What! " He spun around and backhanded Ivan who cried out, "Rose no he will throw me in street!" Perplexed I shouted what the fuck kind of fucking attorney hits his client! "Ivan is my husband now!" And suddenly Philip was with me.

"It's time. Me and Sally Pickles are waiting for you. Your dad is here. Meet me by the train and we can dance across the sky."

But even there I was tortured! Fucking dickhead people keep pulling me off the mother fucking tracks and some cock sucker called the fucking cops! I'm gonna trick my psychiatrist into giving me enough Serequel to fucking kill myself! But she wouldn't bite.

It's just too fucking much and I can't fucking take it? I'm going to end my pain this day. I have no fucking choice, There's no other fucking way out. This life is at its end.

I've lost everything that has ever fucking mattered to me in my worthless fucking life! It's just too fucking hard! Death is the only way out! All this and I finally ask the question. Where was God?

Where are you? Your word said that you would never give us more than we could endure? I'm fucking splattered, destroyed, less than a shell of the person I once was. In moments I will stand before you! Will you laugh as you cast me into a further hell?

Highest God of God's, Lord, I am not Job! I can endure no more! Hear me Father! I beg of you! Mercy!

And then He showed up.

Sitting there on High Bridge literally with a rope around my neck I was about to hang myself when his words came to me, the words that have been to my soul salvation.  "If you don't want to die, why are you chasing Hadees?

My special friend. He cared. He walked with me. He bought me egg rolls that I would not go hungry. He would be waiting for me on Friday night.

Mr. Dudnik your husband Ivan is on the phone. How did he get the nurse's station number? He said it's an emergency. It was the first time since my admission that Ivan had called me. He had done what I had fucking feared

"The 2 men in New Jersey, they put Tina in my ass and then I like it too much so I let them put needle in both arms so I like it again and I go in the street naked to get people to fuck my ass because my dick is broken! I'm naked outside. I come to hospital you fuck me and puss in my ass?"

He was bordering on overdose and I had to get him to safety, someone I could trust, our marriage counselor.

Ivan listen! If the police come they will send you back to Russia! Get dressed! Go to Gustavo now!

Why? He will fuck me and piss inside my ass?'"

Just go! He will help you!

By the time I arrived he had calmed down but was clearly very high and no longer in love with me. The bitch, Tina, she had found another prisoner.

It wasn't much to look at, and by far, much more  to run away from, the Saint Nicholas hotel in Harlem. It was where I landed in Now York. It was there that I was going to get clean that I might spend the reminder of my days with my Philip

I have to say it wasn't bad, wasn't bad if you're looking to fucking slam like a mother fucker! I mean my first night there I slammed a complimentary crazy 8 just to prove I could. Yeah, the bitch, Tina she h.ad followed me to New York.

And after that the lurid, drug crazed encounters that went on in that place were like one of those  sex dream you have during puberty t just can't awaken from. But why the fuck would you want to?

I lasted a month.

In that months time I was almost dead, and maybe was. I missed my Philip painfully and couldn't take it any longer. So I gave up the fight and decided to make my way  back to Florida and my Philip. My quest to become clean had come to a horrible end

A few nights ago I shared in a meditation group the awful fate that I believed Sally Pickles had  met and after the group he had comforted me with a hug. Did he realize the value of that, the simplest, yet purest of human comfort mechanisms? Could he have known that I had gained strength from just the positive energy he had electrified the room with with his presence?

Simply put, he, his presence, his words, his insights, they  had become the Jacob's ladder from which I escaped my suicide.