Blog of Random Fandoms

embalming, the process of chemically preserving a corpse, is typically not required by law. unless you need to transport the body long-distance or postpone the burial, it’s 100% a vanity thing.

a body still rots in air-tight conditions. so “protective” or “sealed” caskets are basically a scam, and anything fancy like metal is a waste of money.

want a beautiful casket for a viewing, but think burning or burying an expensive piece of hardwood is a waste of money and trees? rentals exist.

you don’t need a coffin for cremation. the minimum requirement is that the body be in a “cremation container,” which is a simple cardboard box.

home funerals are an option. you don’t need to hand the body over to a funeral home, and you can keep their involvement to a minimum.

natural burial sites exist. you can have your unembalmed body straight up thrown in the dirt to be tree food, if you want.

there are a lot of funeral homes that will prey on your ignorance and vulnerability in order to get as much money out of you as possible. they may imply optional certain services are legally mandatory, steer you away from cheaper options, charge additional costs for what’s supposed to be all-inclusive services, etc.

usually this is because they’ve been punished in the past for voicing their opinions, not because they’re out to annoy you specifically. depending on how much flack they used to receive, it can be very stressful for them if you try and force them to offer up an idea.

NEVER in all my time as an EMT did I encounter a situation where I needed to riffle through someone’s wallet and find out whether their ID said “M” “F” (or “X”) before I could treat them. If a patient was unconscious I usually got their name and medical history from whoever called 911, and left any remaining information blank. Regardless, the priority would be getting them to the hospital, at which point the hospital staff could usually access their medical records and fill in the rest of that information. Having a gender marker on your ID really isn’t going to change the care you get.

My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch.  Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out.  I do not remember this part.

The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house.  I stood there, right in front of the front door.  This was a novel experience for me.  I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.

A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing. 

“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back.  “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”

He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.

“Go wherever you want.”

I’d never seen a frat house post-party before.  Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light.  A few of them threw puzzled glances my way.  I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.

I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.

“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.

I told him I did.

He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing.  I told him I was looking for my keys.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”

I didn’t doubt him.

Twenty minutes had passed.  I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house.  I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.

As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.

“You need help with something?”

“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”

“What do they look like?  I’ll put it into the group chat.”  He was already pulling out his phone.

No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell.  It was worth a shot.  “Um, it’s just a ring of keys.  The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big.  Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”

He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.

“Alright, I sent the message out.  Good luck.”

And with that, he turned and left.

A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering.  It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder.  One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.

“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob.  “Girl!  Hey, GIRL!!!  We found your keys, girl!!!”

They circled around me.  I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old.  One of them split himself off from the crowd.

“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”

And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.

“Yes,” I whispered.  “Oh my god, yes.”

“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”

The cheer went up.

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I Want To Believe: A Sidlink Fancomic

FIRST (CH 1) | PREVIOUS | NEXT (CH 3)

And that’s a wrap on chapter 2! I’ll take a short hiatus for chapter 3 and I’ll return once I’m ready (hopefully in two weeks). I’ll be uploading Chapter 3 early as I finish the pages and more onto my patreon. I can’t believe we’re at the end of chapter 2 already!!! I’m so excited to get started on ch 3, you guys will love what I have in store for yall

I couldn’t even pick the funniest sequence from this episode. This is basically its entire plot and it’s gold.

meanwhile in Japan: