I don't, unfortunately, have any kind of a story to hang it on yet (she says, furiously sawing and hammering away at some trope-by-fours), but I would really love to write something where Sam and the boys, especially David, are forced into interacting for an extended period of time (and for Contrived Plot Reasons nobody can kill anybody else). I just think. It would be funny.
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I watched THC ep3 this morning and planned to make a playful post about Pond personally sending home my fave IN THE FIRST ROUND and thus my no longer being a Pond defender, but there's actual major legal shit happening today so it feels in bad taste
so I'll just say that I actually think it's really cool that THC acknowledges and explores the production involvement in elimination, a thing every competitive reality show I've seen in my life keeps strictly hidden from view. Even if Pond was WRONG and Sammon was RIGHT!!!
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self indulgent got concept.
Ned brings Jon home, Cat hates the boy, everything stays the same... until Robert Baratheon is charging through the halls of Winterfell looking for the babe, ready to butcher the poor thing where he lay helpless in his cradle.
in a matter of moments Catelyn learns three things:
The babe was never a bastard, Ned had only lied to her to protect Jon, and that she would die before she let Robert lay a finger on the babe she'd previously wished death upon.
cue Catelyn Stark snatching Jon from his cradle, holding him, protecting him, loving him as she would her own son, risking it all to keep him safe, all care for herself thrown to the wind.
like they say, what a mother's love holds no bounds, and what it makes her capable of had no limits.
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over the past 48 hours I will just be living my life and then get absolutely clotheslined by the sound of pinnochio’s cry of “S E N A T O R !!!!” when he saw his beloved ram again
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Wagging my tail like crazy rn, cause tomorrow morning I'm going back home which means that tomorrow evening I will meet my baby kitten that we adopted while I was gone, and I will be able to see my bestie. Going insane. Woof
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feeling uncooperative with the prompts in the meme. between cheech and old pat which one would survive a joint venture into a thrift store? and which of them would you convert into a minor league baseball player if you had a magic wand
God yeah I reblogged that list and then read the questions and was like...this list is wack lol. Anyway THANK YOU these questions are much more important and gets really into the Hearts and Minds of these men.
Who survives a joint venture to the thrift store: Old Pat. It's Old Pat. Man has looked 40 years old since he hit puberty and has just kept growing older. Old man is in his element with the real senior citizens. However it is very important to me to mention that they're going to a bespoke thrift store for like farm and cowboy shit. Cheech could handle normal thrifting. Cheech would be great at normal thrifting. But take him to a store where it's JUST vintage farming equipment and cowboy leather shit and that city boy is going to panic. Old Pat is having a blast looking at pieces of metal that clearly spark joy in his construction worker heart but make NO sense to Cheech, son of academics, WHL overager. Cheech agreed to come to the store to push the cart but now he is manfully deep breathing while Old Pat examines a metal thing with rings. Is it for horses? Is it for wearing? Is it a BDSM thing? Do you put it on a tractor? Cheech is scared. (It is literally just a beval bit.) These stores don't exist in the Bay Area but maybe they do in idk Manitoba or Michigan or whatever. Or Gilroy, where all our dreams come true.
Minor league baseball player: the thing is, we're on Sieloff Watch (KING. ANNOUNCE YOUR RETIREMENT OR SIGN SOMEWHERE BEFORE I THROW UP) and Cheech is having his hot girl summer. So I'm inclined to say Cheech, just bc I think he has a shot in hell of making it OUT of minor league baseball. Also he is handsome like a baseball player. He has the looks for it. Not that you have to be handsome to be a baseball player but it helps. Can you imagine that man in the humid outfield of some nameless town in the San Joaquin Valley, fighting for his life in the game, the top three buttons of his jersey are undone, his curls are wilting, the uhhhh idk Fresno Nightcrawlers, AA for some cursed af West Coast team, are down 9-7 in the 8th, when the skies open up and it starts pouring...the stands, already two-thirds empty on a Tuesday night clear, while the teams run for cover under the downpour. Nick stands in the outfield and tilts his head toward the sky, feeling, for a moment, relief and peace.
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I…
So I grew up watching The Simpsons. And maybe I shouldn’t have, but hey, it was the 90s and parent-sanctioned family time to watch a show that was definitely inappropriate for little-little kids.
Anyways.
I knew Phil Hartman, voice of Troy McClure and Lionel Hutz died in 1998, when I was seven. I knew he died and was sad about it. I missed his characters.
MOTHERFUCKER I WAS TODAY YEARS OLD—30-FUCKING-2 TO BE EXACT—WHEN I FOUND OUT, FROM A YOUTUBE THUMBNAIL, THAT HE WAS MURDERED. IN HIS SLEEP. BY AN EX-PARTNER.
WHAT THE FUCK
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honestly something that is more annoying than "that character would not fucking say that" or "i'm assigning you to actually look at the source material again" type headcanons are when you come across a headcanon where there is nothing technically wrong with it and you can't sit there and say "well you just don't get this like i do" because there is no actual solid evidence that whatever they're saying can't be the case, but it still feels like mischaracterization because of your own way too intense headcanons. and you're aware of that so you just have to sit there silently telling yourself "that is just as valid a read of the character as my interpretation :)" and trying not to go ham because you know you have genuinely no justification for feeling like canon is being ignored
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