#my old animal crossing days are really showing thru in these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

michaelsheenpt · 3 years

Text

Michael Sheen's beautiful love letter to Port Talbot

The actor takes us, and Jennifer Saunders, on a trip down memory lane as he shows us where he played footy and worked in Wales' first drive-thru

Actor Michael Sheen has done something tonight no-one has ever done before.

He managed to make Port Talbot look awesome, without saying that the steelworks looked like Blade Runner.

Now, I'm not being facetious - ok a little - but Port Talbot often has the face only a mother could love, and you can apply that cliché to many parts of Wales - did you see the valleys in the grip of the pit heads and chimneys? I'm from Treorchy, I'm allowed to say that.

We, and Michael, know that where we come from is pretty awesome and his return to live in Wales after two decades away is testament to that appreciation.

It's often said that we can only appreciate where we come from once we have either been away, or are shown it through someone else's eyes.

Those eyes actually belong to Jennifer Saunders. Michael is her guest on her one-off special, Jennifer Saunders' Memory Lane with Michael Sheen, which follows her and the Quiz, Staged and Prodigal Son actor bombing around Michael's favourite parts of the country in a swanky Jaguar E-type, with the latter in an even swankier waterproof cape.

The programme starts with waving tara to parents Irene and Meyrick, fantasising about having a ski lift to get back up the hill to his home and visiting the pitch where he played most of his games for Baglan Boys club - the Evans Bevan Field.

"I was obsessed with football," said Michael. "I played for Baglan Boys Club at the Evans Bevan pitch. My memory of playing football here was the stinging feel of rain on 10-year-old legs.

"I used to feel a mixture of joy at playing and utter terror. One [because] wanted to play as well as possible and also there was always a sense of latent violence constantly," he laughs.

"There was one famous game, [I was]probably around 12/13 and someone started to have a fight, in the middle of the pitch, and we had been told that if a fight starts you have to find your opposite number.

"Everyone started looking round for their opposite number and our goalkeeper, I believe his nickname was 'Unky' he ran, I remember watching him run, all the way across the pitch to hit the other goalkeeper.

"The match was abandoned."

Not perhaps a rose-tinted view, depends who you are really, but he added: "To this day if I can't sleep I imagine myself on this pitch and certain goals."

It wasn't all football and fighting, though, he also tantalisingly asks the Ab Fab creator: "Would you like to see the site of Wales' first drive-thru burger bar?"

You can't say that Michael Sheen doesn't show visitors all the good places, so off they went to a disused patch of land off the A48 where Burger Master once stood, a drive-thru restaurant that opened in 1988 and where Michael worked while waiting to audition for drama school.

Okay, so you might be thinking 'how is this a love letter to Wales?'

But it's the funny, warm, vivid memories Michael shares with the backdrop of sweeping aerial shots of the lush, green and rust brown backdrop of Port Talbot and golden sandy beaches of Aberavon, the site of the culmination of his huge theatre event , The Passion, in 2011.

And it's the trip to Hay-on-Wye that really shows just how much Wales means to Michael, a place he requested to visit one birthday and then hankered to return ever since.

As the pair leave Port Talbot to the intro of Super Furry Animal 's Juxtaposed with U and weave up towards the near-border town via the A4059 (the moor-road that takes you from Penderyn to the Beacons Reservoir) and the A470, the show, and Michael's memories just invoke the wow-factor you get every single time you travel that route.

From dodging the ponies and sheep, to the view back down to the Cantref reservoir and the stone tower that sits at the tip of the Beacons Reservoir, if Welsh expats weren't homesick before, they definitely were by then.

The 51-year-old actor said: "I remember the first time we ever went to Hay-on-Wye and I was looking out the window and I'd never seen landscape like it, it wasn't just fields and I remember just going into bit of a trance and my imagination going wild.

"The first time I saw that [stone tower] I thought I was in Lord Of The Rings and some sort of wizard lived there."

Back at Port Talbot a visit to the Plaza Cinema - which is currently in the middle of being regenerated - reminds Michael of going to see Star Wars, people dancing in the aisle to Grease and flicking Maltesers down to the people below. Jennifer asks him if seeing the places from his past changing and disappearing is the reason he returned home to Wales.

"It is a weird thing to see the old footsteps just disappear it has forced me to think about how fortunate I'd been," he answered. "Suddenly it makes you realise that things aren't there forever and unless you fight for them they can go.

"I found myself starting to do more things around [on a] community level and I thought 'I just want to be here now.'

"I'd got myself to a point in my career where I had a lot of resource, not just financial, other resources and I want to use that to at least do my bit to try and make sure that the people where I come from have the same opportunities, at the very least , like I had."

The episode ends with a trip to Aberavon seafront, where The Passion came to it's grand end back during Easter 2011.

After making a joke - "We are now approaching the roundabout I was crucified on, not many people can say that' - the master impressionist who's taken on a mastered Kenneth Williams, Tony Blair (x3), David Frost and Brian Clough, talks about the National Theatre Wales production which involved thousands of locals as well as the actor as the lead character. And he gets emotional.

"It was incredibly emotional," he said, noting that the images projected behind him on the cross were home videos, memories from Port Talbot in years gone by.

"Home videos, events from the past, my mum and dad's wedding, over the years of developing it I kept a list of people who had died and events that used to be put on in the town that weren't put on anymore, things that has been lost."

Explaining the final words of The Passion: "It has begun!" he told Jennifer how important his home is, and why he returned and you can feel the authenticity in his strength of feeling. He said: "It was the story of the rebirth of the town. The story of The Passion was always the story of this town. I remember thinking I will never do anything as meaningful as this again.

"It changed my life in all kinds of ways, the time I spent working on it I developed a new relationship with this place. I got to know it in a way I never knew it growing up here and it pulled me back."

You can see Jennifer Saunders' Memory Lane on ITV player.

SOURCE

#michael sheen #jennifer saunders #itv #memory lane #port talbot #wales #its gonna be so emotional

22 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 268: Please Don’t Tap on the Glass

Previously on BnHA: Dabi revealed his true identity to Hawks! His real name is actually [sound of semi truck horns blaring]. What’s that? You didn’t hear me? I said it’s [sound of dolphins chattering]. You really need to listen better. Anyway, so Dabi set Hawks on fire a bunch of times, and Hawks had some flashbacks indicating that Endeavor saved him when he was a small child, and just when it was starting to look like we might get our second tragic death chapter in a row, Tokoyami showed up to defend his mentor! Meanwhile in Jakku, Miruko remembered that even though kicking ass is fun and she’s really good at it, she still had a job to do, so she sped off toward Ujiko’s little hideaway, getting stabbed and impaled a bunch of times along the way and losing an ear and shit (I very much look forward to the cyberpunk robot-limbed Miruko 2.0 that we had better fucking get once this arc is over). Fortunately Endeavor showed up to help her out! Anyway, so absolutely no one was talking about this last week, but the chapter totally ended with Miruko about to bust open Tomura’s bacta tank with a badass roundhouse kick, so, uh. Shit might be about to go down you guys.

Today on BnHA: Shit does indeed go down, but at a very languid pace. Ujiko apparently built Tomura’s holding tank out of Nokia phones and kevlar, so even though Miruko gets a few good kicks in, she ultimately doesn’t do more than just crack it. So now the tank is just standing there leaking ominously while Ujiko sobs for no reason and we all ponder whether or not a 75%-charged Tomura will be any less doom-harbinging than the full-fledged deal. In the meantime we’ve got Girl Noumu thinking strategic thoughts and chucking acid at peeps; Crust still doing absolutely nothing; Endeavor not doing that much better to be honest; and Mic and Aizawa ready and raring to go kill the old man who turned their dead buddy into a sentient Einstein-Rosen bridge. Obviously I’m all in favor of this last bit, but I’m also on team “Mic and Aizawa not dying horribly” though, so. I do have some concerns here.

full disclosure, I’m very sleep-deprived for various reasons related to various things which can be broadly summed up as Just 2020 In General. so anyway, I’m dealing with it, but I’ve noticed that my rate of typos and errors and such has shot waaaaay up in this past week or so, so I’m just putting that out there that you may find some weird shit in this post! maybe I will write the same sentence maybe I will write the same sentence multiple times, or or the same word twice in a row by mistake, or use the completely wrong word. you are more than welcome to point this out and I will not take any offense and will indeed be grateful because I’ve apparently gone blind to it all! anyway so how are you I hope everyone is well

anyway! the chapter is early (god for all I know it’s been out for hours already. HOW FAR BEHIND AM I) so I’m recapping it early so that I will have more time to play Animal Crossing and fish and craft all of my troubles away. speaking of which Horikoshi, you had better not bring me any troubles this week, I am not in the mood do you hear

good fucking lord

is all of that Miruko’s blood??!? god, she’s even better at bleeding than everyone else. now hold up all you excited vampires, you all can get in line, I was here first

by the way Endeavor, I gave you a pass last week because your entrance was so fucking raw and you saved my girl’s life and that was really neat my man. but now that I’ve recovered from my shock and awe and am ready to be sarcastic once more, I just want to say... welcome to the party, guy. did you stop for drive-thru on your commute from the other side of the planet. were you simply not immune to the bizarre 5th dimensional time-stands-still effects of March 2020. are you curious at all how your son has changed during these past 20 years, and by “son” I am referring not to Dabi, but Shouto. are you looking forward to meeting all of Shouto’s children. are you excited to be a granddad. anyway thank you so fucking much for finally making your way down to this lair with all the speed and haste of a federal appeals process

and I see Crust is still fighting this guy after six decades

(ETA: I would be more upset about the scan quality here, but let’s face it, nobody actually cares about seeing this in HD. I’m sorry Crust.)

and we’re really expected to believe this is the very next ranked hero below Miruko. could it be that the hero ranking system is actually flawed. don’t tell me. I’m just as shocked as you are

seriously??

are we really going to stop and chat with Geriatric Hero: Crust over here. really. far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, Number One. but I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure he does still have... let’s just check... one... two... yep, two arms. not that I’m saying your system for prioritizing which of your fellow heroes to help out should be based off of the number of arms they have. but also I am saying that

OH SONNY BOY

is that a two-page panel of Aizawa Hatake Kakashi Shouta and his loyal husband Screaming Man leaping into the fray to take on some high end Noumus with their bad and sexy selves. I think that’s exactly what it is. are we blessed or are we blessed. Aizawa I’m pleased to see you haven’t aged a day and are looking just as fine as ever in this the year 2045

oh wow Endeavor I thought you had incinerated it

why wouldn’t you incinerate it. please incinerate it. did you not learn your lesson. please don’t start taking your cues from Dilly Dally Hero: Crust over here

oh wow

and yet Miruko was kicking all of their asses like they were made of plywood. really though guys. only number five. okay

Aizawa’s shouting that he wasn’t able to erase that last Noumu who was impaling Miruko because his vision was obstructed. that’s okay Aizawa, that’s why Endeavor is hopefully about to incinerate him

oh snap here we go

again, one has to wonder what kinds of interactions with rabbits Horikoshi has had in his troubled young life so as to influence his writing of Miruko’s quirk in such a way. did you at some point get rabbits confused with... I don’t even know. polar bears?! not that I’m fucking complaining holy shit

anyway, so just a friendly reminder that if Miruko dies here I will in fact push the button which triggers the hidden ejector seat built into Horikoshi’s office chair. he will be missed. but he had a good run

ho lyyyyyyy shit

so... Miruko I love you but... then why would you break the fucking vat apart with your moon-powered legs. Miruko. Miruko are you listening. oh shit she’s missing an ear I forgot. oh shit. oh shit

MIRUKO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU JUST KICK THE BALD MAN IN THE LAB COAT INSTEAD goddammit well it’s been nice knowing y’all

well then. so this is happening. this is really happening. at least she saved us all from having to face the 100%-charged world-ending Tomura somewhere down the line. instead all we have to do is face the 74%-charged Tomura right fucking now. so that’s. ...I wonder how Tokoyami is doing

holy shit!

leave it to Girl Noumu to be the smart one. for a minute I thought maybe Ujiko had given her Ragdoll’s long-lost quirk. but then I realized that this isn’t a quirk at all, this is just her being smart and using her Big Noumu Brain. anyway so I’m preemptively sorry for having to root against you, Girl Noumu

so now she’s pondering how to disable Aizawa’s quirk. meanwhile I just remembered that we haven’t seen her quirk yet I think. please let it be something good

oh snap she ran away and made it out of Aizawa’s sight range oh fuck

the fuck is up with this thicc fucking Girl Noumu page I can’t tell wtf is going on

LOL OH SHIT

NOT TO WORRY GUYS SHE’S JUST SHOOTING BIG GIANT GLOBS OF ACID AT EVERYONE. can anyone tell if Endeavor has incinerated this Noumu yet down in the middle panel on the left. what is the fucking holdup

and now there’s a big double page of Miruko shattering Tomura’s Noumu Vat, and I can’t quite tell, but it looks like her eyes might be rolling back in a way which I decidedly do not like

(ETA: nah on closer inspection we’re good.)

didn’t she just do this like four pages ago. and how the hell did Tomura suddenly jump from 74% to 75% in like .2 seconds

oh thank god she’s still awake. but now she’s being dragged back now by the Noumu’s bone appendage things because Endeavor SERIOUSLY CANNOT GET HIS FUCKING ACT TOGETHER LONG ENOUGH TO FUCKING LIGHT ITS BRAIN TO ASHES ALREADY, LIKE SERIOUSLY THOUGH. WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL OF THAT TALK ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING FAST AND THE DIFFERENCE A SPLIT SECOND MAKES

Miruko if we make it out of this alive, I’m promoting you to number one. Fatgum will be number two. the only two pro heroes in this arc who have actually impressed me at all. shame on the rest of you. shame

so now somehow or some way Miruko is being flung into Endeavor at the speed of light

I don’t understand this at all. did the Noumu retract those bone whips back into its body superfast while dragging Miruko back with them and somehow it managed to avoid being hit by her projectile body but Endeavor took the impact straight on. this doesn’t make any kind of sense to me with my admittedly rudimentary understanding of physics. but then again it is a fucking manga so I’m not about to call NASA and ask them if this could really happen. so this was a waste of a paragraph I guess!! my bad!!

swear to god this is like the fifth panel of Ujiko just screaming. please just stop. what do you have to be worried about anyway? although if Tomura suddenly went crazy upon awakening and just straight up killed you for no reason, that sure would be delightful! that wouldn’t happen, though. or would it

WHAT IS THIS FUCKING FISH TANK MADE OF

IS THIS A TUBE OF GLASS OR A FUCKING FALLOUT SHELTER

ENDEAVOR I’M GLAD YOU’RE CONCERNED ABOUT MIRUKO BECAUSE I AM TOO, AND ALSO IT’S ALWAYS NICE TO SEE THAT YOU DO HAVE A HEART, BUT ALSO MAYBE JUST LEAVE HER FOR NOW THOUGH, SERIOUSLY??

though on the other hand it’s already too late to stop this inevitable tide, so maybe at this point they should all just get the fuck out of there instead. at least Miruko did her fucking job and saved you all from having to face the invincible unstoppable version. that’ll be a real comfort to everyone when he’s out laying waste to the countryside, I’m sure. but still

-- oh no

the boys heard that. listen you guys, I want Ujiko to die as much as anyone, but I’m gonna need you to not go anywhere near Shigaraki fucking Tomura now or ever. please. do you hear me?? you two still have both of your ears goddammit I want some acknowledgement

-- NO!!!

(ETA: is that. a fucking Tomura dialogue bubble. something stirs in the east. a sleepless malice. the eyes of the enemy are moving.)

THE MANGA GIVETH AND THE MANGA TAKETH AWAY nooooo from 20 pages last week back down to the usual 17. I got spoiled. I expected too much. sob

so now we settle in to wait two weeks to see if Mic’s piercing tones can shatter this fucking adamantium tank like a wine glass. I’m not sure I’m ready for the Noumuraki Tomuracalpse you guys. then again by this point I’m braced for just about anything though so bring it

#bnha 268 #miruko #mirko #I finally caved and did it both ways #endeavor #aizawa shouta #present mic #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #happy easter everyone #don't mention it to horikoshi though #he's terrified of rabbits as we all know #they are vicious and unstoppable #so please treat them with respect

225 notes · View notes

daisugababy · 3 years

Text

get to know me tag 🌹✨

hey, crista look, u posted this on aug 3rd and i’m doing this less than a full month after i think i’m really quick this time lmaooo

—what do you like to be called name-wise? sibel

—when is your birthday? may 13

—where do you live? in the very east of germany

—three things you are doing right now? 1) filling the queues of my blogs (mainly the side blog tho) 2) drinking some tea 3) watching an among us video bc i’m stuck in the past and need some background noice while queuing

—four fandoms that have peaked your interest right now? legends of tomorrow, to my star, animal crossing and uhhh idk... the cooking fandom? LOL

—how has this pandemic been treating you? it’s been going okay i’d say. i’m an essential worker so not much has changed except for that we got bigger shipments which meant more work and more stress, but besides that it was fine. i missed visiting my friends a lot though. I can’t wait to see them again<3

—a song you can't stop listening to right now? danger by highlight

—recommend a movie? uhhhh good question... the last movie i watched was birds of prey and i loved it so... i guess? lol

—how old are you? 25

—school, university, occupation, other? i work in logistics of a bigger supermarket

—do you prefer heat or cold? COOOLD! it’s the first day of me wearing my hoodie and drinking some hot tea as i’m wrapped in a blanket and oh boy did i miss that

—name one fact others may not know about you? i’m terrible with calendars. I always want to own a pretty calendar, but then i struggle filling it in and it just hangs there all pretty and empty

—are you shy? yeah, but i can push thru it when i have to

—do you have any preferred pronouns? she/her

—any pet peeves? customers

—what is your favorite 'dere' type? i’m not well-versed in the linguistics of the dere types but i think himdere just soun dhilarious like hell yeah you go girl! be the queen that u think u are!

—rate your life 1-10, 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best it could ever be? good q i think it’s hard to rate it rn bc tings at work are v eh rn but the rest is fine so i’d say 6 rn

—what's your main blog? dis one :)

—list your side blogs and what they're used for? @spicebirb for non-fandom stuff, @tansbun for asian bl shows mostly, @lucybradford for the rookie, @lan-one-baincell-wangji for the untamed (but it’s mostly dead LOL)

—is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you? i can be a lil emo sometimes loool

since @shinwoonoh already tagged the usual sspect, feel urself tagged if u wanna do it :)

#tag game #about me #wheee thank u bby 4 thinkn of meee

3 notes · View notes

help-who-am-i · 3 years

Text

Have you ever played golf? I went to the driving range a couple of times with my dad when we were younger and have played mini golf before, but I don’t recall playing a real game of golf. Is there a lake near your house? Sadly not. What was the last TV show you watched an episode of? Star Trek: The Next Generation. Do you like beer? If so, what’s your favorite brand? No. What color is your favorite fruit? I don’t have a favourite - too many taste so good! How often do you update your Facebook status? Never. When was the last time you went to the supermarket? Yikes... a long while ago. I’m currently living with my family and mum is a superhero who organises the shopping each week (click & collect). Have you ever been pulled over for speeding? No, I’ve been caught by speed cameras but have never been pulled over. What was the last thing you ate? Onion bhaji. Do you feel bad when you throw food out? Yes, of course! I try my best not to be wasteful, but I’m not quite at ‘turning leftover banana peel into bacon’ yet. Seriously, it’s a thing! What’s your favorite sort of pasta? I really like tagliatelle. What do you think about the new Apple Watch? I didn’t even know about it (I don’t follow news). Have you ever been on a log flume ride? Yes. What was the last wedding you attended? I think it was my uncle’s, which was at least ten years ago. I don’t care for weddings. Are you religious? What do you believe in? No, I’m agnostic. What’s your favorite thing about the weekend? Currently I’m not working much at all, so my favourite thing about the weekend is that other people in the household tend to go out of the house more often (meaning that I sometimes get the house to myself). How often do you go to the drive-thru? Not often at all anymore; I prefer to cook my own food and occasionally order food to be delivered. Do you know anyone who’s lived through a natural disaster? Yes, several people who have experienced hurricanes/tornadoes from the US or south-east Asia. How do you feel right now? Surprisingly OK; a little bit lonely. Also a little hungry, but I need to lose weight, so I’m trying to resist. Have you ever tried to make risotto? No, I find risotto quite sickly for some reason, so it wouldn’t be a dish that I’d choose to cook. What does your favorite perfume/cologne smell like? Fruity. How many brothers/sisters do you have? One brother. When was the last time you waxed anything on your body, if ever? Several years ago. I use an epilator to shave off leg hairs now. The ‘tash gets tweezered and occasionally removed with a razor. Have you ever broken a window, intentionally or not? No. How far do you think you can run? I can’t quantify it but I’m quite sure the answer is ‘not very far at all’. I’m so unfit, send help! What is your favorite video game? There are so many fantastic video games out there which are all uniquely amazing within their own right. I really couldn’t choose just one favourite.

Here are my more recently played favourites (within the past three years): Red Dead Redemption 2, Kingdom Come: Deliverance, Dragon Age 1-3, Mass Effect 1-3, Witcher 3, Shadow of Mordor, Shadow of War.

Here are my old favourites: Pokemon (especially Emerald and Fire Red), Animal Crossing: Wild World, Dog’s Life, Gallop Racer 2, Mario Kart Wii, Animal Crossing: City Folk, Red Dead Redemption, RuneScape (now OldSchool), Horse Isle 2 (now Eternal), Sims 3, Zoo Tycoon 2. Do you know anyone who uses a wheelchair? No. Have you ever made your own pizza or pasta dough? Yes, with help, when I was younger. It’s something I’d really like to try in the near future. What’s your favorite fast food place? Wagamama! The vegatsu curry and mushroom bao buns are to die for. When was the last time you went out for a meal? Oh, yikes... not for quite some time. I don’t really miss it though; covid kind of helped me to check myself and change a few old unhealthy eating habits.

Can you sing? Yes and no. Can I answer with that? If I’m really feeling the song and my voice is OK, then yes. If I’m not feeling it and my voice is acting up then no, God no. Do you wear a watch? I try to remember to, but I often forget. Sometimes I like the pressure on my wrist - I find that it helps to keep me calm. Other times I find the pressure really irritating and have to take it off. Have you ever watched an entire season of a TV show in one day? I have not; I tip my hat to people who have. It’s a superpower! Lord knows how they keep their attention focussed for so long. What did you have for dinner tonight (or last night)? Chickpea and coconut curry (with the onion bhajis). Would you ever consider getting plastic surgery? What would you have done? Not now, no. There was a time when I was considering having my nose made smaller. Have you used the app Yik Yak? No, I have never heard of it. Do you like shrimp? I like most animals, but spiders, ants and some flying insects still freak me out (I’m working on it). Shrimp are pretty cute. The peacock mantis shrimp is awesome! They can punch with the speed of a .22 calibre bullet, according to the American Museum of Natural History website. Tell me three of your favorite movies. Fast & Furious, Lord of the Rings, Ace Ventura. Are you lactose intolerant? Probably... I used to consume dairy, but I don’t any more, so I will probably feel unwell if I consume it again. Have you ever been in a car accident? If hitting a deer counts, then yes. Poor fella... I was driving home from an early morning survey for work, so I was pretty tired. It was a dark country road bordered on either side by deep ditches, dense shrubbery and woodland. I did an emergency stop, but the bumper of my car still bumped the deer in the process of stopping. I didn’t see where they went, so I assume that they darted off into the forest. I nearly caused another accident as I was driving away because I was still processing the shock (nearly let my car slip down the side ditch), but I managed to redirect the wheels in time.

What color shirt are you wearing right now? Blue. Do you know how to play poker? No, I got the hang of it once, but I haven’t played in so long that I’ve forgotten. Who is your favorite superhero? Hulk or Falcon; I’m leaning slightly more towards Falcon.

#survey #surveys #personal

1 note · View note

why-its-kai · 3 years

Text

2 tags

1st from @everysinglepheel

rules: answer 30 questions and tag however many blogs you want!

name: Kai

gender: guy

star sign: taurus

height: 5′1″

time: 2:48 PM

birthday: april 21

favorite bands: They Might Be Giants!!! Gorillaz, Wilco, Red Vox, Jellyfish

favorite solo artists: Weird Al (surprising lack of solo artists in my music tastes?)

last movie: raggedy ann & andy a musical adventure (came up in my youtube recs today it was very weird and probably would have terrified me as a kid but i enjoyed it lol)

last show: been rewatching gungrave

when did i create this blog: april 28 2012

what i post: whatever i want

last thing i googled: “raggedy an musical adventure”

other blogs: i’ve got a bunch of sides created over the years but the only ones i’m really actively using now are @tuxedo-floracat (flight rising) and @kaibots (furby/toys)

do i get asks: very rarely

why i chose my url: play on my previous username (which contained deadname). the “why” comes from my last name initial being “y” which my parents came up with many many years ago (used (name)why as their email addresses). my initial url here was “(deadname)why” and idk why i remixed it a little when i changed my name but it stuck? idk

following: 971

followers: 1186

instruments: played alto sax from 5th grade thru graduating high school. stopped playing due to being unable to find a place to play where i fit in (energy of high school band is very different then community band composed mostly of older people)

what i am wearing: pjs (old t shirt from ahl team that doesn’t exist any more&pokemon pj pants)

dream job(s): want to go back to the library. being an artist would be cool but i’m not capable of doing anything substantial for a career so h

dream trip: at this point i just want to go to the jersey shore again like i did when i was a kid

favorite foods: pizza i guess, sweet things? more things but i can’t think of any thing coherent and also i am hungry now and i don’t know what i want please send help

nationality: american (unfortunately)

favorite song: a lot of them? i remember doing some tmbg favorite song ranker and “hey mr dj i thought you said we had a deal” came out on top so uh i’ll just go with that

last book i read: last one i actually finished was beastars volume 9. as for books that are actually just words and not comics i literally do not remember since i lost the ability to focus on reading lmao

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: pokemon, animal crossing, homestar runner

tagging: uh

2nd from @severalspoons (some overlap in questions so be prepared for duplicates)

nickname: Kai

zodiac: taurus

height: 5′1″

hogwarts house: hufflepuff

last thing i googled: “raggedy an musical adventure”

song stuck in my head: well i am listening to music right this moment so idk what is stuck in my head now?

number of followers: 1186

amount of sleep: 8 hours i guess idk i just sleep at night and wake up in the morning and i can’t take naps during the day any more (like i just cannot fall asleep during the day. doesn’t happen) and i guess its enough but i want to be asleep more bc it is easier to exist that way some times

lucky number: 42

dream job: see above

wearing: see above

favorite song: see above

favorite instrument: accordion (unironically. someday i want to learn how to play)

aesthetic: dead malls, halloween, camp/kitsch/tacky shit, cursed things, rainbows

favorite author: brian jacques (rest in peace)

favorite animal noise: cat “brrr” when they shake their head

random: im so tired

tagging: (this space intentionally left blank)

anyways thanks both of u for tagging me

1 note · View note

ckcker · 4 years

Text

Fear of Being There

The scientists put 3D glasses on a cuttlefish I read in an article, which I pair with the unread email from a friend of twelve years sitting one tab away, it appears to partly be a link to some video. Feeling brave, I gather speed and push to the open email, purposefully ignoring all of the friend’s written message to zoom into the thumbnail of the video link they shared with me, which shows on one side of the thumbnail the shocked open mouth of a drag queen reacting to what I assume to be the most heinous transgression. On the other side, a porcupine’s needles blasting from inside the mid-section of what appears to be a burmese python. “How could this scenario have ever happened,” I ask myself as I don’t click, then scan the message written above the link:

“are you still in Kansas City??”

“I saw our high school English teacher walking in the park with a huge clump of moss stuck on her ass, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time”

“Carrie is in NA now and I never see her. also I adopted a dog”

“I’m sad I haven’t heard from you in a long time but I respect that you are just doing your thing, doing what you think is best for you, I love you. enjoy this video of a drag queen screaming as she watches a porcupine impale a boa constrictor from the inside, it really made me laugh. It’s not real”

“I would love to visit some time if you’d have me, I would love a long road trip, no pressure.”

All I ever felt towards this person was worry; they were frequently to be found painfully descending the valley of some knotty, unlubed parabola. Suicide often seemed on the table though it was never openly discussed, and what was discussed and unburdened between us never seemed to offer this person any relief. But, I had not seen them in almost two years — still, I worried. The gristle of sympathy. Though now I could only think this person a bit stupid for not electing revenge as the only compatible solution. They wallowed, tried to make inroads on the community around them, multi-tasker, all I did was worry, wonder if there was no chance for them. On my better days I in fact stopped worrying because I resolved to believe that there was no chance for them. On worse days I used to encourage them to online date, to take classes in some technical craft and escape minimum wage, incredibly coming from me who has yet to escape minimum wage, I bloated them with the most despicable general advice most likely invented by some phantom community and popularized by rotating day time talk show cryptids. I surprised myself, the self-help industry deluge came spilling readily from my own mouth, I had no other advice to give. No effect. I had no idea what could help someone, I did not respond to the e-mail, the scientists put 3D glasses on the cuttlefish to study if it uses stereoscopic vision to hunt, love that.

I responded to the email by going out for a long walk. The walk proceeded as planned. And then, in front of my eyes, the glistening juice of a misdirected frappé bronzed itself on the sunlit sidewalk. It was June. The person who bought then dropped it when attempting to give their companion a lil sip seemed one or two involuntary grunts away from the most amateur keening. We did not know each other and passing by I said nothing, in another hour and a half it would be sunset and that was the daily alarm for my worst and most stupid memories.

Walking without a plan for a couple miles had led me to nothing specific: a popular cafe with drive-thru option, and the entrance to some truncated nature preserve with an ample parking lot, that I barely observed. The humiliated and frappé-less melody of the forlorn customer began to spread over my shoulder, I averted my gaze from the nature preserve to treat it as if an attractive face I was intimidated by. The only use for such a pathetic nod to wilderness in an urban area should be frequent alien abduction. I knew better than to hope for that, I was not a good multi-tasker and did best with a single plan of attack. And I already had a good plan, through subtle make-up I was looking older by the day (more like the month). Pretty soon I would dye my hair grey. I considered it was something the young people of the era liked to do and not for the reason of appearing aged. In fact, more than anything this coalition of young and old visual signifiers increased the proof of their wrinkle-free faces and accentuated the domineering stylistic awareness inherent to youth in a, unnaturally long energy-sucking sigh, capitalist country. I continued to high step forward like a finickety markhor in a fugly mood. Then, finding myself facing a hard-to-cross state highway I concluded, “oh, haha…ok, ah……that’s fine” and turned back towards the unused nature preserve parking lot, “I am almost too far away from home anyway.” I sat on a curb on the side farthest away from the road. Looking across the street I saw that the customer and friend had started to kiss. A simple solution to the loss of the drink. His body turned awkwardly, I allowed myself to espy the torque of the male’s twisted cargo short pocket and felt very little. I was turned away from the forest preserve entrance, at sunset I would have the executioner’s urge to once again survey and prepare my Doha nights.

The arrival of sunset did not derail my day, but it always succeeded in sequestering my concentration so as to remember that, perhaps, time — I felt fully sick of telling myself about it. I would prefer an obsession more traditionally fun, there was something about the way the eyebrows (with near-unibrow between) met the sharp lines at the top of the hyrax-like nose of Q.C.’s gradually-hot-to-me face. I did not spend too much time thinking on him, I had little control over my eyes when in his presence. Worse, attempting to appeal to him would mean calling off the whole ambitious deterioration project, which was fully under my control/the best path forward. I did not spend much time thinking of him when not in his presence and the collective shimmy of maple tree leaves in the breeze appealed to my left side as it carried on through the row of trees behind me. A sparrow bopped around the swath of thick grass to my right and was not interesting at all. I knew I felt this about the sparrow because I turned away from it quickly. Finally I rotated towards the nature preserve entrance. Was this an opportunity for me to snag a poesis? I wanted to be home in my bed alone. I also wanted to pretend to be thriving, inspired and free. I wanted to try to see the world for the first time again.

I got up and started towards the forest path with the confidence and direction of the professional managerial class. To appeal to Q.C. would involve a gravitational u-turn, I would have to cut my hair better, with more style and intention, I would have to once again attempt to wear clothes that mostly fit my body, with careful monitoring of the area where jeans could be hit firm with zested glute. I would have to invest much mental analysis into determining how to embody his desire. I would have to keep emphatic track of my body language and reactionary expressions when near him so as to appear at least some low level of confident and laid back. The antithesis of an angry errant stump, sucking vengeance through an ancient straw lined with obsidian spikes that clacked ominously against dentures I did not need. I could not appear as “depressed for two.” Again, and worst of all, I would have to deselect the only source of direction for the future, my only true idea for satisfaction: the pursuit of my literally new age. My only chance to repair my original timeline, by controlling my own time. The old tension between wanting badly to be noticed and desired by others, and wanting that definition of freedom which is the refusal of all external attention, both approval and disapproval, in order to bring about the most contained stability — of course that tension ran me ragged once again. That wan zit, it really seemed scripted at this point, I worked very hard to send it to the background. My body clearly sensed this when it activated the release of an ear wax ball the shape and weight of a gently used cheek piercing stud. The feeling associated with its premiere and gruesome launch was similar to just catching the last concrete appearance and subsequent fadeout of a semi-interesting-but-ultimately-unremarkable ghost of a 52 year old coffee mug.

I entered the forest, which began with a layer of joyless mulch. The opening of the trail had dimensions so wide even the most sexually depraved plant had little chance to gak its repressed gropeage on a passing body. I looked up as I walked, realizing the only animal likely to be spotted here, at this time of day, would be a bird. Perhaps I might see a hawk or turkey vulture. My survey resulted only in the very soft swaying of stacked green branches in front of striated and unremarkable clouds. After watching this gentle tableaux for about thirty seconds, I wanted to more than violently shake an in-his-prime Ansel Adams, ask him what in the unconscionably labyrinthine fauxhawk I’d just seen. Would he have looked twice at this sky — my glance still directed upwards, I heard its scabrous chirp before I saw it, and then I saw it and immediately hated its presence: a sparrow had landed on an oak branch forty feet above my head and wanted to stay there. I refused to let it observe me, turning to it I suddenly screamed in the timbre of an aggressive synth orchestra hit. Continuing my walk after compartmentalizing its non-reaction, I wondered how I might make these natural surroundings matter to me. They made no inherent argument that profoundly engorged the fun bags, perhaps because I was generally hooked into things by chaos, aggression and arguments, not by continuity or bucolia. I could identify the simpler trees at least. Of course pines and maples were easy, birch too. I could usually confirm oak and cherry through guesswork. Otherwise I wandered through a forest in a skein of unskilled silence, in some beta-level abyss that was never fact-checked. I didn’t know if having the names of mosses and wildflowers and mushrooms made it easier to appreciate the woods I forced myself into. That I recognized and questioned such absences in myself was part proof that I felt a large component missing in the ongoing construction of respect for humble surroundings, and part recall of an inherent tendency to not care much about my own construction. Against the spirit of the times, I spurned the concept of “personal development,” both in the thought directives I gave myself, and in the level of base inertia and hatred of fitness that exposed me as down-low sirenia. “Personal development” — I did not trust the idea. But moderate walking was acceptable to me and I continued to walk. All trees beside me were suddenly activated by a quite beefy breeze from inside the forest. Mood was present. And along the audio effects of the wind in heavy leaf-covered branches, I thought I heard a rustling in a different tempo one-hundred feet further along the path. A clench shuttered my body. Once, I was reckless. I entered badly lit hotel rooms brimming with silhouettes of animatronic movements. I took pills handed to me, only asking after I swallowed them what they were (bottom tier migraine medication). These days nearly any situation outside my apartment brought the inflamed trance of cautious thoughts. Where I seemed to hear the sound I saw nothing but the continuation of breeze, and felt fully the irregular welts of my prey mentality.

But I did not turn to exit. The introduction of humidity into early summer pumped a new game in me anyway, the godforsaken thirst for some swell of “possibility.” Against my addiction to titanium cowardice, flicked this vague and acidic proposition for adventure — that most rancid word of careerist travel influencers and successful stunt doubles. Heavy hot air seemed to ferment a perennial wildness of feeling that, in other weather conditions, remained neatly veiled in self-suck. I hated that I could still be easily infiltrated by this hormonal illusion of “anything can happen,” despite all my malevolent associations with the phrase. It was important to make a list of all the things that are possible. “Anything can happen” was a sloppy mantra full of menace and probably popularized at some point in the late 20th century to sell mini frozen bagels with pizza toppings. The list of all the things that are possible is the list of most crucial truth, it is a list that serves as sublime prep for someone who has been through the full consummation of “anything can happen,” when the thing that happened was a mind-shedding, unmentionable thing. I knew the culture at large was heavily against such a distrust of possibility, as the concept suggested monumental change and always for the better — the potential of fortune. I also knew it was against the cosmetic grafting of extra skin to make what I suddenly decided to refer to as ‘my boys’ look especially wrinkled and saggy. I stood still and surveyed the way partial sunlight glazed on and off the nearest bush of presumably poisonous berries. I briefly turned around and took in the forest entrance in the distance, and beyond it the suggestion of abridged midwestern meadow, now also washing in and out of sunlight with an unpunished laze, that I felt very unused to. Nowhere else in my life, to which I paid attention, obeyed that kind of rhythm. This statement was immediately wrong and a direct contradiction of my slow motion lifestyle. I allowed the statement to stand because its wistful gush was enjoyable, roughly spiritual, and juicy.

It brought thoughts of a nightmare I once had that eventually, through sustained lack of action, curdled into just a dream, a dream that had a trolled atmosphere of never-ending. A dream that felt three years long. A nightmare-incubated dream that appeared seven months after that moment of apex possibility and only the second dream after.

There was a group of us. We were in a house, we didn’t know we were in a slasher movie, we had thought it was a self-liberation biopic. We were pursued by a presence we did not expect. But every time there was a shot of the killer, the killer had been deleted in post. Only a tense and expectant camera followed us around, and we screamed at empty spaces at the top of the staircase and in corners of rooms. Dissonant music accompanied us, which, now knowing we were in a horror movie, we expected and rolled our eyes at. But we never saw the killer and nobody ever died.

I also remembered the first dream I had after the event, it was very short and involved me waking up at 7am to give a dog one cup of dry food. The density of hanging leaves in the forest began to inch a feeling of haunch and ceiling overhead, the light landing on the settled foliage only in splatters of rhapsodic dag. The inevitable feeling of being alone in the woods, despite the steady wash of faraway highway motors, is intimacy with something. You believe you are not being seen, when small and mundane animals see you, it means absolutely nothing. With a bear or mountain lion in the mix, at last you will truly feel “seen.” I was in a freely neglected and shrunken nature preserve on the edge of a midwestern city, I did not think it was possible to be seen by a bear and so I did not feel like I could be noticed. Thus I felt intimacy.

The content of that intimacy had zero intellectual value. It was only the comfort of being fully hidden, safe and alone. I was impressed by how much thick cover the trees supplied since the preserve itself was state park theater. The trees hid me from the sky, repressed my existence from something that could watch me. I basked. I thought of the substantial bulge of an older male in tight-fitting jean shorts. In this context of feeling unseen, it seemed the thru line of my consciousness in bringing up such an image was the keyphrase, “something hidden.” The intimacy began to retreat as a counter. Again, my head disenrolled me from a healing terrestrial feeling; it looked at nature with vast inexperience, it pursued a perspective of mountainscape print out. I tried to recover the hypnotic sap of that momentary solitude and continued walking. Of course the interruption of erotica in mind is one of the more iconic nature moves. And yet for some reason it seemed to unravel the hallmark atmospherics of a more investigative mystery. Such a divide was proven by watching my pivots of attention between two tickles. For instance, on one side, direct observation of a boner. The other side, fog covering an empty island highway at night. I thought I knew well the narrative arc of a priapism, and I thought I did not yet know much about the carnage in my seeping memories. It seemed obvious — of the things that controlled me, I prioritized with meaning the one I did not know much about. And instinctively, being alone under thick canopy felt like good setup for that kind of self-irrigation. I thought of the bulge again then saw another sparrow and after it reasonably bopped about for a skoach I suggested to it, “get away from me fuckface.” Again it did not move.

I walked several paces off the path and leaned against a definite oak trunk, wondering if my old person stage makeup was still intact, glancing towards the voyeuristic rays of sun slipping through the trees, well diffused and beginning their noticeable descent. I listened. After approx. twenty seconds of listening I heard the long-churning spew of a motorcycle gunning down the road about a quarter mile away, somehow powerful enough to overwhelm the peaks of forest ambience with its quite rascally discharge, hunh, the streaks of horrific classic rock revival spraying after it. I thought, “stop subverting me,” then felt the newly introduced stance of someone in my peripheral vision. They did not advance or retreat but did fidget. Probably, I could not be sure without glancing directly, pretending to look up something on their phone. They seemed about fifteen feet away from me, I considered if I would have to kill them in self-defense.

“How’s it going?” a man’s voice directed at me from the trail, giving me permission to look at him directly. A balding but well-maintained buzz of greying black hair, glasses, a thin white-yellow-green-black button down tartan print department store shirt tucked into leather belt and loose fitting blue jeans, the eye eventually and uncontrollably being led down to the neon pink, orange and yellow running shoes with white laces low-key dusted in a sampling of diaphanous schmutz. My “hi” was squeezed out with full defenses. The man did not say anything back but immediately enacted some plan of his, made obvious in his eyes that pressed on my face with an unmistakable singularity. He pursued unbroken eye contact to evaluate the potentiality of the interaction. I responded by looking away, remembering it was a powerful move in the game. I also refused to believe he thought me attractive enough for whatever in-development future passed through his turgescent nethers. As a mature adult, I was no longer available to rawk out with my cawk out but clearly the cast of desperation on the man made it possible for me to appear sexually acceptable, as evidenced by his not leaving. Nor did I imagine that he produced much foregrounded desire in an m4m community; lastly he probably stayed because he was closeted. I tried to maintain an appearance of clueless indifference, comparable in chillness to deciding to write ‘U R’ in a text message the same moment you observe a plastic bag fly in the wind towards a sleeping stray cat. Since the man did not leave or say anything, I also waited another 7-10 seconds in silence and downward glance. Yet this tactic, usually so effective in social settings, had failed, and so I looked at him again. And again the charged stare of non-verbal magic. The humid air was beginning to slightly cool as the wind filled the space between my collar and neck, suggesting it might rain soon. But behind the man’s head the sun, flanked by fleshy lard-swept clouds in various indigo exposures, was still visible. I hoped if the increase in gusts continued that they might produce a temporary bald spot on the crown of my head as I said, “why are you looking at me?”

He did not immediately respond, but severed all links with my eyes. I watched his glance minutely dart from one close location on my face to the next, “do you have makeup on?”

Each generation, freer than the last. The man did not know the answer for sure, but that he had noticed something was confirmed. Very exciting, I beamed internally. I controlled the beam. There was still so much work to be done.

Towards the man I projected breathtaking displeasure. I assumed the keyed up tone of someone wanting to be regularly shared on the internet: “I’m just trying to enjoy the forest on my day off sis so don’t—” and shut off inexplicably, though recognizing as the system recoiled that the implication of this man’s advances had lightly cracked some automated timecode in my lower lefthand corner of frame. My body — I had only felt it all of a sudden. Shoulders were arched forward to protect my underbelly, chest was swollen and stuffed with the debris of a delayed reaction of terror, single inconsistent tingle in left leg suggested the tiniest strobing marquee aimed at the brain, suggesting “run.” I had thought, this is not a dangerous situation at all. A little unusual but not something I haven’t experienced before. Something I could refuse and easily walk away from.

The body had behaved differently. Sunset mounted. The body had believed it was going to die. I hadn’t even noticed. Internal monologue always suggested much to investigate when looking for a solution, it presented long interconnected hallways and sliding doors, considerations of escape and tactical movement. It berated the body for not reading the situation correctly or at all, it hated the body’s spontaneous and inept mechanisms. It relished any reference to the phrase “bassackwards” but in this case the body was right. If I was to be killed by this person was still up in the air, I leaned towards no, but the body had not been reacting to my imminent death, only suggesting how relaxedly I pretended to advance through commercial district sidewalks, gas station candy aisles, cruisy chip bag-strewn forest preserves as if I’d never been reorganized by some sort of adaptation of death in which you survive. There was much work to be done, much work, to make the hair of my eyebrows more profuse and unkempt. My nose hair, which was way too thin and manageable, samesies. It was with the failure of a deep breath that the gauze of that summer sunset coaxed me back into the scene, despite the marquee now reading “Run II: Darkest Before Dawn.” The man had not known how to respond to my ejection from the clapback. I took stock, the forest appeared momentarily still and squirrelless. His energy seemed as if grappling with the possible realities of what I was. If crazy, at least in the way that interferes with verbal communication, I was no longer an option in his “mmm………damn”-ridden design. If crazy but able to continue clear conversation, or if so shy as to appear only intermittently awkward in conversation with strangers, I was still a highly available mark.

“Do you like it here?” he asked. It seemed that micro makeup and abandoned sentences were not considered dealbreakers for someone in his position. My body continued to want to leave and I stayed, he took a few steps forward, staring again with that binary intensity where the recipient must commit to its endgame or flash exit.

A strap broke in me: I suggested, “I hate it here.” The comment reached him. He looked as if to be re-processing me under a blank face but maintained his slow approach. I was answering his questions coherently and so I was incredibly sexy, perhaps. “I’m not doing well,” I followed up, using a long-acting smile-to-smirk succession in an attempt to muffle it.

This was ignored, “I’ve got a pretty big one,” silence, breeze, sunset, wow — squirrel, “what are you looking for out here, alone?”

Silence, squirrel, “you know where you are, right?”

Breeze, trees, sunset, reggaeton in the distance, instinct erupted — I stepped forward. “It’s not yet time for my annual anal,” my voice cracked. “In fact, it won’t happen this year, or ever again.”

A pause was produced, though it was clear he didn’t quite grasp my meaning. I stood still, now staring at him in order to properly knead the info. Finally a look of understanding on his face — “oh, I’m sorry” and he exited back up the trail, all spells dismantled.

I remained in the woods. I looked at the squirrel. I even yearned to see a sparrow, uninterested in knowing why. I allowed the intellectual regulations to rest, I listened to the joyous pump of prancing squirrel feet on twig-bedazzled forest floor. I looked at the sunset, while blocking the word “beautiful,” and liked it. I walked to the path, turning away from the exit with the rush of a recently liberated preteen spray-painting an anarchy symbol on the door of a rusty abandoned sedan next to discontinued freight train tracks that are overgrown with weeds and yellow wildflowers. I wanted to walk deeper into the woods, I wanted to be in the woods when it got dark. I wanted to be alone and without a mind. Knowing it was untrue, I nevertheless proposed to myself, “I think I could cum just from being alone for 3 weeks.” After a feisty fifty or sixty steps around the curving path, I met chain link fence separating the forest from a row of backyards and their respective single family homes. I thought of the cliche of an evil character in a kid’s movie laughing maniacally for some time then very suddenly stopping to present a severe and unamused face. It surfaced as a whimper.

2 notes · View notes

chiqitadave · 4 years

Text

im !!!! getting empty again !!! :(

i havent felt super ~dissociatey~ in like two years and it bums me out because i still dont have a good coping mechanism for it?

i used to just push myself into sad things because if im depressed im at least feeling something, right? and that feels better than nothing

but i dont want to do that because if i let my depression run rampant again - no bueno!!

so im trying to force myself into a million and one activities and friendships and talking to a bunch of people and forcing a smile but it all feels so fake because i feel so goddamn empty!!!! i feel nothing!!! i almost had a panic attack at the starbucks drive thru because ??? i dont know!!

ive tried writing, listening to podcast, listening to music, watching old shows, watching new shows, playing video games, and its all just !! empty. i dont even know how to describe it other than im doing things just to pass time and im not even enjoying it but i feel bad just sitting and staring at walls all day. and i have absolutely no drive to do anything at work and it’s really negatively affecting my performance and god!!!!!!1 i want to just enjoy things again! i want to feel happy when im playing animal crossing. i want that “i cant stop because i love this so much” feeling back. but its gone. and i dont know how to make it come back. im losing hours in my day. ill drive home and realize that ive been driving for 30 minutes in complete silence. i dont even know what speed im going at. and i really really dont want my dangerous tendencies to come back. but i dont know what else to do.

#personal #sos amiright ladies hahaha lmao !! ha

3 notes · View notes

bran098 · 5 years

Text

turtle crossing

I was saving the diapsids long before you VSCO girls made it trendy by ditching plastic straws in your venti Starbucks cups.

A couple of years ago, driving along my small stretch of road, I saw a turtle up ahead, smack dab in the middle of it. I slowed down, pulled off to the side, and looked both ways before stepping foot onto the asphalt. It was a rather small turtle, just doing its business, taking its time to cross the road. That is until it saw me. One look at this lumbering dude and it withdrew its limbs into its shell.

I picked it up and asked it not to bite me as I slowly and gently walked it across the road in the same direction it was headed. I hoped it wasn't the snapping kind. I didn't know much about turtles but was it possible it could whip its head around, elongated and angry, ready to strike my palm with its powerful jaw? Thankfully it never peeped out of its head hole and let me taxi it to the other side. Once it was safely out of rubber harm's way, I carefully set it down and stepped back a bit to see if it would come out of its shell. It eventually did and continued on its course.

I drive a lot and see a lot of dead animals in the road and it breaks my heart a little each time. I try to swerve to avoid as many as I can but not all animals can be avoided and it should always be done within reason. And I started to think about that "within reason" and realized most of us don't apply that logic to our day-to-day lives and routine activities. Consideration, kindness, and good deeds are all lacking in society. I've often wondered where that breakdown started to begin. Surely it's not just one factor but a multitude of reasons we've all become rancid.

One thing that I've noticed is we don't seem to be taught how to give and receive love. We all feel alone and alienated and bullied and often that bullying comes from a lack of love on the aggressor's part. We live in an iced coffee cancel culture where it's popular to point out everyone's flaws. We are quick to condemn an off-color comment but we don't try to correct it. It's instant damnation without education and no opportunity for growth.

It's easy to write people off and think the worst of them because when we realize people can make mistakes, we have to face the reality that we also make mistakes. And that's a hard pill to swallow because mistakes mean growth and change and it's more comfortable being petty. We don't expect people to do better because we don't want to do better ourselves.

We openly hate others expecting no consequence but expect retaliation when someone hates us. We are taught suspicion, paranoia, and protection. But it really just boils down to fear and ignorance, two qualities that are not only tolerated by #45 but encouraged. Because when you can create, orchestrate, and control someone's fear, you can stroll in as the savior and when people feel safe, they trust you. And when they remain ignorant and uneducated, they will never question you.

When I was in school learning about civil rights and segregation, I looked around at my mixed classroom, all shades of black and white, and I thought to myself, "I am so glad that's all over." I look back on that memory with a mix of fondness and embarrassment now because I was so naive and innocent and really thought racism was dead. If only it were true and if only I could still live in that fantasy world. But at the time, living in the south, I should have been old enough and astute enough to know better. I guess I always brushed off the random racist relative or neighbor as a one-off, some leftover ideology that hadn't quite been eliminated yet. But my generation was better. My generation knew of tolerance and acceptance and did not listen to their small-minded elders. I was so wrong.

What I only came to recognize later on was that racism and bigotry never left us. Neither did sexism or homophobia. I just don't think I've ever seen it displayed as openly and proudly as I do today. And when you put God into the mix, it's an even more dangerous combination because now people can justify their hatred by hiding behind a religion. *"I'm not pro-life. God is! I'm not pro-slavery. God is! I'm not pro-guns. God is!"* Everyone is quick to claim religious freedom unless it has to do with the freedom to practice a different religion other than theirs. Then all of a sudden it's a crusade against Christianity.

I've witnessed all this from afar and I've been guilty of apathy. As long as it wasn't bothering me, I didn't care too much. I figured it would all work itself out eventually. Good defeats evil, right? Actually, not at all. There is no force in the world that will help or shift the tide toward good. No force except the force that humans can exert to make those changes themselves. I don't want to sit back and watch the world quite literally burn. I don't want to see minority groups oppressed or omitted entirely. That's not what I've grown up wanting to be. I've always wanted to help, to unite, to connect not only myself to other people but connect those around me.

It seems like a monumental task to try to save a world that already has one foot in the grave. And frankly, I don't think I'm up for the task. But what I am up for is doing all that I can, this small, insignificant, fragile glass human, to try to make someone's day better and hope that whatever good comes from that will then be delivered to someone else.

I guess it's the little things that still matter, those niceties and favors that have gotten lost or forgotten over time. Like paying for someone’s coffee or giving a genuine thanks when someone hands you a burger through a drive-thru window or bags your groceries at the checkout line. When someone tells you a joke, when you ask how their day was, when someone breaks off a piece of candy for someone else to enjoy. It's thinking about others, being considerate, taking the time and energy to do something for someone else, be it big or small. 'Cause those little interactions can really make a big difference in someone's day.

Maybe people don't bother with manners anymore because many of us feel so insignificant ourselves that we feel we can't make a difference in anyone's day. That lending an ear or offering our skills or services wouldn't be worth anyone's time. But that's just not the case. For example, I think I'm the biggest waste of space but that doesn't impede me from trying to help others. I think it gives me a sense of purpose and helps me not feel so worthless. If I wasn't there to make someone smile, maybe no one else would have come around either.

I'm glad I came around for that turtle because not long after I set it down to safety, a semi-truck came barreling by. It would have surely crushed that creature into the concrete had I not intervened. It was no inconvenience. It didn't take more than a few minutes out of my day and I was glad to assist another animal in need. What I did might not change the world and maybe the turtle didn't know it was destined for certain doom but moving it was a practice of showing mercy and concern for something else, something I need to do more of, something we all need to do more of, all in hopes that our slow and steady deeds might just add up to something significant.

#writing

7 notes · View notes

iknownothingihearnothing · 5 years

Text

Game of Thrones 8.4 “The Last of the Starks”

I. Am. MAD.

This...this week’s offering right here is an example of an episode I loved and loathed in equal measure. There were lovely moments of--

And then...then there were even more ones of--

Y’all know what I’m talking about. From Brienne’s heartbroken face to that motherfucking Northern stubbornness, to Missandei’s capture and death, to Jon still not knowing enough (he’s so naive), to Euron shooting poor Rhaegal out of the sky, to JON BEING A HORRIBLE WOLF-DADDY!

He just ABANDONED Ghost! Without even a pat goodbye! Even if he had to leave him, he could’ve at least spared a frigging goodbye. Yeah yeah budget blah blah. You couldn’t get an actual big, white, fluffy dog for the few seconds needed for Jon Snow to bid his wolfy buddy who RISKED HIS LIFE for him a proper farewell?!

I pet my dog and call him a good boy when he gets the ball and goes poop outside. You couldn’t spare more than a “laters, brah” nod to your poor puppy?!

LOOK HOW SAD HE IS!

I want to hug him and kiss him and snuggle him and tell him he’s the goodest boi in the North. Pawning him off to Tormund to live Beyond the Not Wall where he knows no one, what’s the matter with you, Jogon of House Snowaryen?!

Dany may be leaning a biiiiiit too far into her House Targaryen roots but at least she is a dedicated pet owner. We know she loves her...scale...babies? They have spines, right? Spine babies? Fire babies.

Ugh, let’s get into this week’s slice of sadness.

The episode opens with a massive funeral for those that died in the Battle of Winterfell. Including Jorah, Lyanna, Theon, Mr. Edd, and Beric, who is now definitely out of lives.

Dany, crying, leans over Jorah’s prone body, kisses his forehead, and whispers something we’ll never know into his ear.

At least, we’ll never know unless either Emilia or Iain decide to spill the deets. Iain Glen said in a post-ep interview with Entertainment Weekly that it was “something definitely profound”. But who knows, he could be bullshitting us and she actually said “I like muffins” or something and he had to lay there pretending to be dead.

On second thought, she’s English. So perhaps she prefers crumpets.

Sansa is sniffling over Theon’s body and places a House Stark pin in his shirt. Jon is looking out at this sea of corpses like--

There is no more Ol’ Nighty to bring them back.

Or so we’re led to believe.

The camera pans across the mourners and we catch a glimpse of our favorite furry friend.

He’s such a good, loyal doggo. Wolfo? Direwolfo.

Oh Jon I am so MAD AT YOU!

Saving my rage for a bit further down. Barely.

Jon gives a farewell speech about all their dead--they defended the realms of men, no one will ever see their like again, etc. etc.--and then some of the mourners who knew the dead best are given flaming branches in order to set the bodies alight. In the North, they burn their dead. I guess cus the ground is forever frozen and one day someone from House Whyrevr said fuck it and lit his dead grandma on fire.

Afterwards, they have a joint funeral/”glad we’re alive” party because of course they do. Kinda reminiscent of our shiva except people are sitting on chairs. At the head table, Jon is looking awkwardly at Dany--apparently, that whole “we’re technically related and oh you have a better claim to the throne than me” stuff has lingered beyond fighting for their lives. Damn. Not even surviving Team Undead’s invasion could get them out of that business.

Elsewhere, Gendry asks the Hound if he’s seen Arya. Does Robert’s bastard have a wee more on his mind than all the death? Like, say, his wee-wee?

Some things never change, no matter what century it is.

Gendry tries to stutter that it’s not about that but the Hound knows it is. Gendry’s alive and the dead are not. Might as well take ASS-vantage of it.

Eh? Eh?

Srsly, this is like the worst party in the history of Westeros. Uh, aside from the Red Wedding (but not the Purple one, #ByeJoflecia). They just buried burnt a heap of their dead, two of their hosts are keeping a huge secret from everyone (and being super weird around each other because of it), and Dany’s endlessly fighting against that frigging Northern hardheadedness. It’s not GREAT, Bob.

Speaking of that famous Northern jackassery, Dany sees an opportunity to crack that stubborn ice as Gendry crosses the party hall. Calling him over, she at first inquires about his parentage, asks him if he knows that Robert Baratheon kinda had her whole family killed and wanted to slaughter her as an infant. Gendry’s like “Whoa, did not know that he was my daddy until after he was dead” and Dany’s all “Yep he dead and so are Renly and Stannis so who’s Lord of Storm’s End?” and no one knows.

This is Dany’s chance to make good.

Not only did Gendry survive the battle, he got laid and made a lord!

You go, Glenn Coco, Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End!

Ser Davos, the onion knight (lol) leads the room in a toast to Gendry, the newest Lord on the block.

Don’t be fooled cus he’s now a Lord, he’s still he’s still Gendry from the Forge.

Tyrion remarks that now Gendry will forever be loyal to her and Dany says that he is not the only one that is clever.

Sansa, hearing this, looks at her like bats just sprouted from her head and flew out her ears while her eyes turned red as she chuckled evilly.

Oh, come on! This is what people in powerful positions on the show do. That’s how they secure allies without, you know, marrying their allies. You want someone’s loyalty, do something for them. Dany’s not the first one to try that. And it’s not like she had Drogon Dracarys the hell out of one of Gendry’s enemies to secure that loyalty. She made him a damn Lord.

The Starks are annoying me this season. Except when Arya laid the smacketh down on Ol’ Nighty.

In another corner, Jaime and Brienne are celebrating by gettin’ crunk. She offers a halfassed excuse but Jaime’s all “Dude, we defeated a horde of zombies. Drink up!” and she does, giving him this look:

Bow chicka wowowwwwwwwwwwwwww chicka chicka boom.

Not that I can blame her. Aside from all that incestin’, Jaime’s a fine slice of Kingslayer pie.

Ser Davos of House Onion and Tyrion are talking about Melisandre, who last episode took off her necklace and aged into evaporation. Davos tells Tyrion that he swore to Melisandre he would kill her next time he saw her but he never got the chance, as she did it to herself. Or the Lord of Light took her. Or whatever. They don’t like him much. They fight his war and then he fucks off.

Tyrion crosses the room to BranBot, who is reading in his wheelchair, which Tyrion calls a clever invention. I keep forgetting that wheelchairs aren’t really a thing in Westeros.

BranBot, as animated as he’s programmed to be, delights in telling Tyrion that it is reminiscent of the one Daeron Targaryen made for his nephew over a hundred years ago. Just your regular episodic reminder that BranBot is...BranBot.

Tyrion says BranBot’s BranVision will come in handy as the Lord of Winterfell, which he technically is as Ned Stark’s last surviving “trueborn” son. But BranBot doesn’t want it. BranBot doesn’t really want anything or anyone. He totally just doesn’t care, man.

Tyrion envies BranBot’s ability to not give a shit and and BranBot tells him not to because--

Yes, yes. You’re an “old soul”, BranBot. BranBot calls himself a grandpa in a teenager’s body. He forgets what generation he is and refers to people his own age as “you youngins”. He constantly crows that he is a “proud introvert” who’d rather be reading. We KNOW, BranBot!

Tormund leads a toast (with his awesome tusk cup) to the Dragon Queen and everyone cheers so maybe Dany’s making headway. She herself turns her own toast to Arya, the hero of the Battle of Winterfell.

Jaime, Brienne, Tyrion, and Pod are playing a Westerosi version of Never Have I Ever with wine and Tormund, a bit drunk off his red ass, is going on and on about how awesome Jon is. Meanwhile, Dany is listening and though she toasts him she knows that she will always be an outsider to these people and they fucking love Jon.

Also, this happened:

“May I have your name?”

“Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons.”

“Okay, that’s Daniellris Shoehorn, the Sunburnt, Keen of Mean Girls, Bean of the Sandals and the Thirsty Hen, Call Sweetie of the Eight Assed Bee, Brother of Wagons. Is that correct?”

“Ugh. Just write Dany.”

“Okay, Fannie.”

The PTB at HBO have since digitally removed The Cup from the episode but wah bro I think they should have kept it in. That’s hilarious. I want to live in a world where Starbucks exists on Game of Thrones. And it survived the battle. Of course House Styrbycks is right around the corner from Winterfell, conveniently situated at the heart of the town square.

And you better believe there’s a ride-thru for the horseman on the go.

I enjoy how HBO came out with a statement that Dany ordered herbal tea. I can see Dany ordering herbal tea.

In warmer climes, though, she’s definitely a dragon fruit smoothie girl.

Aside: Liam Cunningham recently went on Conan and gifted him The Cup:

He swore it was the actual cup. How is that even possible?! Wouldn’t someone have tossed it after all this time? And the fact that it was still around had to signal to someone on set that a) trolol a person in Consistency fucked up and at least one dude on GoT knew it before the ep aired and b) that Emilia’s discarded latte appearing in a scene would be gold.

I want to believe it’s legit. I want to believe so hard that it’s the real Cup and that all these circumstances came together to land the Cup in Liam’s hand all this time later. I want to, and so I shall.

(Yes, I know it is not the real Cup but shh I want to BELIEVE!)

So, Dany is watching everyone have fun and be close with each other, especially how everyone seems to love Jon here, and she’s feeling even more like an outsider (and not a bit insecure about her claim to the throne) and she gets up and leaves. Varys starts to follow her with his watchful Varys eyes.

Jaime, Brienne, Podrick, and Tyrion are still playing their game and getting increasingly drunker doing so. Drunker and more giggly. Everything’s all well and good until Tyrion suddenly sits up, looks Brienne in the eye, and accuses her of being a--dun dun dun--virgin. Pod nonchalantly sips his wine.

Brienne clambers out of her seat and mutters that she has to piss. Tormund, also drunk as a skunk, stumbles to their table, celebrating, and asks--

Well? Who did shit in Tormund’s pants?!

It’s kinda awks because Tormund is into Brienne but Brienne has feelings for Jaime and when did GoT become a teen soap opera? It’s like The North 00000 up in here.

Tyrion pours more wine into Tormund’s tusk as Jaime follows Brienne out.

Dramz. Will they? Won’t they? Stay tuned next week!

No, they totally will right now.

But first, Tormund is going to bitch.

I was cheering for Tormund to win his Big Woman, I really was. But then Jaime showed up and their chemistry just...reignited.

Tormund expresses sadness until a Northern lady volunteers to take up his time. The Hound continues to drown his sorrows--tho idk what he’s sad about, he’s alive--ignoring even the prospect of sexytimes until Sansa, finally able to make eye contact with the Hound, shares his table. It was a long time ago when she couldn’t even look at him, back when she was just a little bird. But now she’s a dark phoenix (see what I did there? Because Sophie Turner is starring in Dark Phoenix!) risen from the ashes, having had her revenge against her latest torturer/husband, Ramsay Bolton via his own hounds.

None of if would’ve happened if Sansa had left K.L. with the Hound way back when. But Sansa gently squeezes his hand and says that without Ramsay, Littlefinger, and all those assholes, she’d still be that same naive little bird.

Anyone else get the vibe that David and D.B. are kinda...trying to justify what Ramsay did to Sansa here? Just an itty bit? All that’s missing is Sansa belting out Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter”.

Outside, Arya is practicing her archery skillz when Gendry, the new Lord of Storm’s End, is imbued with way too much enthusiasm after being dubbed by Dany and legit blurts out a proposal to his one night stand right then and there.

Ugh. I can’t wait until my shitty copy of Phhotoshop arrives. Until then I have to use paint shop. Look at those corners! They are making me itch.

Anyway, Arya obvs rejects Gendry’s proposal and it’s d’awww. Gendry is like that guy you hook up with once because he’s hot and afterwards, he won’t stop calling you and texting you and trying to add you as a Facebook friend and messaging you on Twitter suggesting that you fly to Michigan to meet his parents for Thanksgiving. This is something I know nothing about.

Ah, now we’ve circled back to the Jaime and Brienne Show!

That’s if he’s not still obsessed with his siiiiiiiiissssterrrr (she’s a psycho!)

Brienne’s throwing more wood onto yet another hearth (there are a lot of hearths in Winterfell) when Jaime knocks on her door and unceremoniously proclaims that she did not drink when Tyrion accused her of being a V to the gin. He pours her some Dornish red and mutters about it being hot in here; Brienne has learned in the North to always keep a fire going. Jaime has learned in the North that he hates the fucking North. Brienne counters that it grew on her.

Jaime wonders if Tormund Giantsbane also grew on her. He seemed quite sad when she left.

He wants the V-card and the V.

Jaime chuckles awkwardly and begins to pull at the collar of his shirt because “it’s bloody hot in here”. Brienne watches him warily for a second until she gets annoyed and unties the garment herself.

You see where this is going.

First time for Jaime, too. He’s never slept with a knight before.

Has he ever slept with anyone who isn’t his sister before?

Shows how much he cares about Brienne. Letting someone in who isn’t Cersei. That’s a good, non-incestuous step forward, Jaime.

It’s a big moment for Brienne, too, aside from the obvious. She’s had a thing for Jaime for years. This is like that guy you’ve been secretly pining for suddenly realizing he’s totally into it.

In the next scene, Dany confronts a “slightly drunk” Jon, who did not know Ser Jorah very well, but he is pretty sure that if he would’ve chosen a way to die, it would have been protecting Dany. Dany knows Jorah loved her, but she couldn’t love him back--not the way he deserved, not the way she loves Jon.

They kiss and it’s like before Jon ever found out he’s also Aegon until--

“Does Westeros have any support groups for this? Maybe I should ask Ser Jaime.”

Jon wishes that Dany had never told them that they were related and I’m sitting here like--

He would’ve figured it out sooner or later, right? I mean, if he knew he was half Targaryen and all and Rhaegar was his daddy. I understand math is hard but...

Dany tries to forget and sometimes almost succeeds until tonight when she saw all those people gathered around him, looking at him like I’m The Hero! People have looked at her like that before, lots of people, but not here, not on this side of the Narrow Sea. She begs him not to tell anyone of his Targaryen lineage, to swear Samwell and BranBot to secrecy, so that things could go back to how they were before between them.

But Jon must tell Sansa and Arya because family and nobility and Starkism and all that. And we all know Sansa no likey Dany, despite the fact that HER ARMIES SAVED YOUR NORTHERN ASS.

She begs him some more and he promises that she is his Queen and they can all live together. And they can, if Jon keeps his trap shut.

In Brienne’s quarters, if the animal pelts are a rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’!

Warm enough in there now, Brienne?

In the War Room--damn, don’t we all aspire to have a War Room?--our favorites are gathered around the Great Table or whatever with a map of Westeros in the center and some old timey Checkers pieces standing in for the two sides’ respective armies. Obvs, the Battle of Winterfell has depleted Dany and Jon’s forces greatly, but they still have enough to wage hell on Cersei. Yara has taken back the Iron Islands in her name, and the Prince of Dorne pledges his support. Still, Cersei has the Golden Company led by Guyliner Greyjoy and the Lannister Army fresh and ready to fight.

Dany is not appeased. No matter how many noble people declare their fealty to her, while Cersei still sits on the Iron Throne, she can still call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon, Tyrion, and Varys reassure her with talk of dragons and the people of K.L. having rebelled against their King before. Sansa adds that she wants to give the armies time to recuperate, which is also--

--since they just fought Team Undead and all. But Dany wants to hit up K.L. NOW NOW NOW because the longer they wait, the stronger her enemies become. Or something.

Someone’s starting to lean a wee too far into her Targ roots. It’s just common sense, Dany. Take a chill pill.

But Jon sticks up for his GF. Very sternly, he swears the North will honor its commitments and allegiance to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and blah blah blah.

Dany appears smug.

Silently, Arya and Sansa trade glances like--

Tyrion narrates that Jon will lead the remaining forces up the Kingsroad while a smaller group of them will take a fleet to Dragonstone while the Queen will follow on...dragonback.

Jaime will remain at Winterfell as a guest.

The camera ticks to Brienne’s expression at the mention of her former crush and new lovah’s name:

She’s trying to outwardly remain passive, but inside--

She’s getting laid and she’s not dead. Those are good times in Westeros.

Dany completes the conference and Arya demands a word with Jon. Outside, Jon is like “We’d all be DEAD if not for her” which is again DUH and Sansa snides “Arya’s the one that killed the Night King”. Arya wouldn’t have had the chance to kill the Night King without Dany’s armies because they’d all be DEAD. Seven Hells, you people are ridiculous. “We don’t trust her, ShE’s nOt OnE oF Us.” That is an absurd reason not to trust someone. I’m from New Jersey. It’d be like me about to be murdered and refusing help from someone because they’re from Florida. Don’t trust her because of her personality not because of where she is from.

And then, like a naive idiot, Jon actually thinks because he swore them to secrecy, Sansa and Arya will for sure totally keep his true lineage behind zipped lips.

This here was one of the scenes that made me roll my eyes so hard, they almost got stuck.

From that, thankfully, GoT moves on to one of my favorite scenes of the episode. Jaime and Tyrion sitting there over drinks gossiping like yentas. Jaime’s giving his younger brother all the deets vis-a-vis his liaison with Brienne. When Tyrion doesn’t say anything snide, Jaime is visibly uncomfortable, and Tyrion claims he’s happy Jaime is happy.

And--

Tyrion has been waiting for ages to make tall person jokes.

He also wants to know what she’s like “down there”. Jaime calls him a dog.

But then Bronn shows up, finally after Creepy Qyburn hired him to kill Cersei’s “traitorous brothers”, a bit drunk off his ass, brandishing that crossbow. After he smacks Tyrion in the nose, he tells them that Cersei offered him Riverrun, but he knows the Queen is fucked after seeing Dany’s dragons, even with their depleted forces. And Cersei can’t pay up if she’s dead, so...

So Tyrion counters the offer. Highgarden for Riverrun. Bronn would be made Lord of the Reach. It’s certainly open now that House Tyrell has been decimated (RIP Olenna, you ultimate badass). Jaime blanches. How could Tyrion just give him Highgarden? Well hell, it’s better than being dead.

Jaime doesn’t think Bronn will seriously kill them. Jaime is wrong.

Jaime scoffs Highgarden will never belong to a cuttrhoat but Bronn laughs pish-posh. Isn’t that how all the great Houses started? Kill a few hundred, they make you a Lord. Kill a few thousand, they make you a King?

Tyrion gives Bronn-y his word he’l give him Highgarden as long as they take King’s Landing. Bronn opts out of leading the fight, but wishes the brothers luck with a casual “Don’t die”.

The Hound yells “FFS!” when he meets up with Arya on the Kingsroad. Yep, they’re both goin’ Kings Landing way. Nope, Arya doesn’t really care to hang around, even if she is the hero after knifing that horned fucker. Yes, she probably will abandon the Hound again if he gets hurt.

They both have “unfinished business”. Arya to scratch Cersei off her infamous Kill List. The Hound, presumably, to finally fulfill our fantasy of Clegane Bowl!

Elsewhere, Dany is getting ready to leave the fucking frozen North, petting her dragons. And on this show, that is not a euphemism. One of them, presumably Rhaegal, takes flight.

While Drogon remains with her, that mama’s boy.

On the bridge, Sansa is watching Drogon and Rhaegal lift off, trying to shoot them down with her eyes.

Before he leaves, Tyrion tries to convince her one more time that Daenerys is it, or at least a way better option than Cersei, and he believes in her, her people love her, Jon loves her, etc, and he’d totes appreciate it if they were at least allies, and he turns to leave as the camera pans close on Sansa’s face; she calls him back to spilleth the beans..eth.

Did I win?

As Jon is loading up his Horshon Wagon, Tormund jokes that he’s not riding the dragon down south. Jon laughs that Rhaegal needs a break; he doesn’t need Jon weighing him down.

Tormund says that he has had enough of “the south” and plans to take the Free Folk back Beyond the Not Wall through Castle Black. It’s not home, not where they belong. Or, suddenly, where Ghost belongs either after EIGHT YEARS.

Yeah, this is where I RAGE.

Jon insists the North is no place for a direwolf and asks Tormund to take Ghost with him back Beyond the Not Wall, where he knows no one, will be lonely, and have to contend with even colder weather than what he’s used to. Tormund tells Jon that he has the “real” North running through his veins and “maybe” they’ll meet again before he departs and Jon goes to HUG EVERYONE.

ALMOST.

RAGE! RAGE AGAINST THE JONCHINE!

I know, I know working with the CGI wolves is ExPeNsIvE, blah blah. I DON’T CARE. There are dragons that spit actual fire on this show. Y’all couldn’t substitute a real big, white, fluffy doggie so Jon could bid his furry friend a real goodbye?! This was the saddest scene in GoT history. Forget Ned’s beheading or even the Red Wedding. This right here is inhuman.

The episode’s director, David Nutter, tried to defend himself, weakly, by insisting he thought this way was more powerful. He obviously does not own dogs. Or any pets of any kind. He did not anticipate how much we all love our furry friends. As soon as the episode aired, Twitter lit up with #GhostDeservedBetter. Poor Ghostie. He lost an ear for you! You’re leaving forever. I snuggle my dogs when I just leave to go to the bathroom. I shall honor Ghost here, First of His Name, Protector of the Realms of Men, the One Eared and the White Furred, Warden of the North. Or at least Warden of the Woof.

I had to watch this portion a few times to get the right screenshots so now I must go snuggle my own doggies. And tell them they are my own little direwoofies and I will never ever leave them. Especially for King’s Landing.

Jon “I’m the worst Wolf Daddy in Westeros” Snow rides off and Sam, Gilly, Tormund, and Ghost watch him go, even after his owner slighted him, because he is the goodest boi on the continent.

On the way to Dragonstone, Tyrion has immediately spilled to Varys because let’s be honest: Jon’s true parentage was always going to stay a secret for about, meh, an hour? And now eight people know--Jon, Dany, Sansa, Arya, Tyrion, Varys, Sam, and BranBot. Which makes it less a secret and more info. If the internetz had existed back then, the whole of Twitter would’ve known within fifteen minutes. #JongonSnowgaryen would trend worldwide. Westeroswide?

I need to start following The_Mastr.

People like Jon. They follow Jon (even tho he’s a terrible pet owner). If this were to get out, Dany would lose the North--Winterfell and the Vale. Sansa would see to that.

Tyrion suggests marrying them and they could rule together. They love each other, but Varys ain’t so sure Jon could ever see beyond that whole “she’s his aunt” thing. And Dany doesn’t like to have her authority questioned. Then Tyrion cheerfully suggests that Cersei could end up killing them all anyway and that would solve their problems.

And then Guyliner Greyjoy comes out of nowhere and motherfucking shoots down Rhaegal!

I literally gasped “NOOOOOOOOO!” out loud when this happened. My animal-loving heart can only take so much, Game of Thrones. There’s a fan theory that technically we didn’t see Rhaegal die and two somethings appeared in the sky in the trailer for the next episode so he could come back with a vengeance. Please come back with a vengeance, Rhaegal.

Dany is furious that Captain Maybelline shot her baby and orders Drogon to make a beeline for him. But afraid for her other baby’s life, she turns at the last minute. Euron, annoyed that he only took down one dragon, instead aims for the boat carrying Team Daenerys, which explodes under the force of multiple scorpion arrows.

All of them swim to shore--all of them, except one. Just before the arrows flew, Grey Worm ordered Missandei to seek refuge on the skiff, and, when we shift to the castle gates, we see Cersei presiding over thousands of innocents who will be caught in the crossfire of war between her and Dany, her child (which she tells Captain Maybellne is his), and a captured Missandei.

In the War Room at Dragonstone--every Great House has a War Room, it seems--our merry band is presiding over a map of King’s Landing where Varys looks Dany in the eye and begs her not to attack the castle. They have Missandei, they killed Rhaegal, yes, but thousands of innocents are held inside the Red Keep, which is Cersei’s modus operandi. Varys pleads with her not to destroy the city she came to save but Dany believes she has a destiny to rid the world of tyrants, and she will fulfill it, no matter the cost.

That sounds vaguely culty, Dany. It wasn’t that long ago you were doing all you could to avoid a battle inside King’s Landing, cus you didn’t wanna destroy the city and the people you were gonna rule over. What happened? Don’t go all Aerys on us.

Tyrion suggests offering Cersei her life in exchange for the throne to avoid carnage. Dany knows Cersei will never go for it, but it’s good for PR, anyway. The people will know that Daenerys Stormborn tried to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused.

Take it back a few, Dany. Just a few, mkay?

At the hearth--there is always a hearth chat going on, and Dragonstone is no exception--Tyrion and Varys are having A Talk. Varys has served many tyrants, and they all talk about destiny and stuff. But, Tyrion negates, Dany has walked through fire and made dragons and lived, maybe she really is destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms.

Varys considers How To Solve A Problem Like Jon Snow. Who may not be a problem so much as a solution. Who would make a better ruler, Jon or Dany? Varys knows Jon doesn’t wanna rule, which is partly why he bent the knee, but maybe a good ruler would be someone who doesn’t want to rule at all.

And Jon’s a dude, which, in ye olden times, was important. Also why he’s got a tighter claim to the throne than Dany does. They’re talking treason right now. Tyrion accuses Varys of abandoning all of the kings he served under. Varys reaffirms that he will always serve what’s best for the realm and the people, thousands of whom will die if the wrong person sits on the throne.

Tyrion asks what happens to Dany and Varys gives him a look like “What do you think?”

At Winterfell, the Northerners are rebuilding while Sansa and Brienne are being all secret-like, talking in whispers and glancing at Jaime. He follows them, having the creeping sensation that they’re talking about something that pertains to him. When he asks what’s up, Brienne tells him that they just got word of Guyliner Greyjoy’s ambush on Dany’s ships, Rhaegal’s death, and Missandei’s capture.

And another for Jaime Reacting to Bad News screenshots:

BUT what exactly is he reacting to? That Cersei is going to die or that he isn’t going to do it himself?

That night, Jaime is watching Brienne sleep, then creeps outside to pack up his mighty steed to head back to the capital. Too bad Brienne wakes up and catches him. The city is going to be destroyed, they all know this. And Jaime doesn’t have to die alongside Cersei.

Jaime doesn’t think he’s a good man. He pushed a boy out of a window and crippled him for life (which led to him becoming BranBot) for Cersei. He strangled his cousin to get back to Cersei. He would’ve killed every man, woman, and child in Riverrun to get back to Cersei. She’s a monster. And so is Jaime.

And then he leaves and Brienne is heartsick and her POOR FACE.

THIS EPISODE IS KILLING ME.

But--and I know a lot of other people think this, too--after I wrung my hands a bit, I thought about this moment. I think Jaime’s going back to K.L. to off Cersei himself, leaving Brienne to believe he left because he thinks he doesn’t deserve her. It still SUCKS but it’s less sucky than thinking he’d rather have his twin sister’s V.

In said capital, the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki forces, along with Dany and her merry men, are lined up outside the gates. Cersei, Pirate von D, and Cersei’s ever lurking zombie Mountain are on the battlements with a chained Missandei. The camera sweeps to show both sides and when did King’s Landing get so FLAT?

Isn’t King’s Landing supposed to be all lush and hilly? What has Cersei done to the place?! This is Dubrovnik, ffs!

Creepy Qyburn comes out of the gates and Tyrion goes to meet him, Hand to Hand. Queen Daenerys demands Cersei’s unconditional surrender and the return of Missandei, unharmed. Queen Cersei demands Daenerys’ unconditional surrender. It’s a stalemate and they’re not getting anywhere so Tyrion tries to appeal to Creepy Qyburn’s logic. They have a chance to prevent bloodshed. To not cause the screams of thousands of children as hellfire is rained down upon them. It’s not a pleasant sound, Qyburn agrees. Alas, he still goes on about Cersei being the one true Queen so Tyrion pushes past him to speak to his sister himself.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are all--

Dany also thinks this is not a good idea.

Some of the Lannister army up on the battlements with Cersei and Co get their bows and arrows ready but as Tyrion approaches, Cersei waves them off with a smug smile. Calling up to her, Tyrion says he knows Cersei doesn’t care about the people of the Seven Kingdoms; they hate her and the feeling’s mutual.

He mentions her children, her unborn child. How she loved them more than life itself. And just because her reign is over doesn’t mean her life has to end, her her child has to die.

Just for a moment, one moment, it appears as if his words are getting to her. Cersei takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. Lena’s acting in this instance is superb. And then, she crosses to Missandei as Dany and Grey Worm race toward the gate in alarm, and murmurs “If you have any last words, now is the time”.

Missandei’s last word?

With her last word, Missandei is telling Dany to fuck it all and burn King’s Landing to the ground.

Cersei gives zombie Mountain the nod to take off Missandei’s head, and poor Grey Worm can’t watch as the undead monster kills his girlfriend.

Dany shakes, turns, and walks away as Cersei smiles triumphantly.

The Mother of Dragons is so done fucking around, y’all.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh this episode was a ride. I wanted to wring SO many necks. Jon Snow, how does it feel to be the villain of the internet? Jaime, you best be headin’ back to K.L. to kill Cersei. Don’t you be breaking Brienne’s heart for nothing. Burn it all down, Dany! #Cleganebowl!

I am EXCITE for the penultimate ep. So EXCITE!

#game of thrones #game of thrones recap #game of thrones 8 #emilia clarke #Kit Harrington #nickolaj coster-waldau #gwendoline christie #kristofer hivju #Sophie Turner #maisie williams #jacob anderson #nathalie emmanuel #ghost #ghost deserves better #warden of the woof

2 notes · View notes

pcttrailsidereader · 5 years

Text

My Top Three Hardest Days on the Trail

Kathleen ‘Token’ Neves was one of the PCTA’s P3 hikers in 2018. Kathleen tells me that the 3 ‘p’s stand for PROTECT, PRESERVE, and PROMOTE. “As a P3 Hiker, I acted as an ambassador for the trail along my thru-hike and helped represent the PCTA,” Kathleen continued.

In her other life, she has been an avid yoga teacher in the Seattle area for many years. “It was through yoga where I discovered my real passion for hiking. It started with my first Rim to Rim hike in the Grand Canyon. Next thing I know, on the plane ride home, I decided I wanted to hike the PCT,” Kathleen continued. You can see her entire blog at http://www.kathleenlovesyoga.com/

PCT over the last four months has been an amazing experience. I’ve adapted to a whole new way of living life out here, learned a lot about myself, overcome numerous fears, developed friendships I’ll have for a lifetime and pushed myself mentally and physically beyond any limits I’ve ever put on myself before. The PCT has changed my life in ways I’d never imagined it could or would.

I’ve had numerous amazing experiences out here and I’ve had some not-so-amazing experiences. As with off-trail life, you have your good days and your bad days. On social media, it’s common for people to only talk about the good stuff they experience on the PCT – beautiful sunrises/sunsets, epic tentsites, the incredible views, other cool hikers, tasty food on trail/in town or trail magic along the way. But what about the not so good stuff?

When you hike 15-20+ miles a day for over four months, bad days are inevitable. When sharing my PCT thru-hiking experience, I think it’s important to talk about it all – the good, the bad and the really tough days. Since starting my PCT thru-hike back in April, three really tough days stand out as my absolute hardest out here so far.

Tough Day #1: Day 54 – Mount Whitney/Whitney Portal

When most PCT thru-hikers take the alternate 17 mile route to Mount Whitney, they camp the night before at either the Crabtree Meadow Ranger Station or Guitar Lake and slack pack up to Whitney, bringing only water and snacks with them to the top and leave the rest of their belongings at camp. After hiking up to Whitney, they come back down, breakdown camp and head back to the PCT.

My trail family didn’t do that. Instead, we brought all of our stuff up with us to the junction of Whitney and the Whitney Portal. We left our packs at the junction, hiked up the 1.9 miles to Whitney and then came back to the junction to retrieve our packs. Then instead of going back down the way we came like most other PCT hikers, we went up, over and down the Whitney Portal towards Lone Pine.

Coming down the Whitney Portal was brutal. There was ice to cross over multiple times – I was the only one in the group who had microspikes. There were 99 switchbacks to navigate down. It was the longest 8 miles I’ve ever had to hike. Since we had such a long day, we didn’t take many breaks and hardly ate any food. Hiking up Whitney was hard enough, but coming down was even harder. I had two breakdowns – one when I reached the top of Whitney and one coming down the portal after I realized we still had another five miles to go.

The silver lining in the day was knowing there was a McDonalds in Lone Pine we could have dinner at. Once I meal planned in my head what I’d eat when we got there, I was able to stop crying and focus on getting myself down those last five miles. Seriously, it was McDonalds that saved the day and got me off that mountain. Now whenever I think of Mount Whitney, the first thing that comes to mind is, “Never Again!”

Tough Day #2: Day 63 – Bear Ridge Trail to VVR (in the dark)

My second hardest day on trail was on my sixth day of being in the High Sierra all alone. I ended up hiking 25.8 miles on this day, making it the most physically challenging day in the Sierra section so far.

Mentally, it was hard because quite frankly, I was tired, dirty and lonely. I had spent the last week all by myself hiking up and down multiple passes, having to cross snowfields on most of them. I hadn’t had a shower in six days, ran out of clean clothes, had run out of DEET and was being eaten alive by mosquitoes, had to ford multiple creeks and rivers all by myself, was lonely from having to camp by myself each night and hadn’t had cell service so couldn’t let my friends and family know of my whereabouts. On top of it all, I knew I still had one more pass to make it over and one more big river to ford before heading off trail for a Zero Day.

Even though I had seen some of the most amazingly beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen in my life, I was ready to get off trail for a day, talk to other people and eat food that didn’t require boiling water to cook.

Originally, I was going to hike to the ferry dock for Vermillion Valley Resort (VVR), take the ferry across the lake and then hitch five miles down the road to Mono Hot Springs where I would spend my Zero Day the next day. When I stopped for lunch that day, a group of hikers suggested I skip the ferry and take the Bear Ridge Trail down instead. They said it would only be a five mile hike into VVR and that if it got dark, they’d camp along the way and I was welcome to join them.

I hit the junction for the Bear Ridge Trail at around 7pm. The sun was starting to go down, but I decided to take my chances and keep going. I figured if it got too dark, I’d meet up with the other hikers and camp with them.

It got dark quickly, especially in the forested areas on the trail. I picked up my hiking pace, got my headlamp out, turned it on and made a deal with myself – I’d stop at the first tent I saw on trail and camp for the night.

As soon as I turned on my headlamp and started hiking again, I slipped on a rock, fell to my chest and snapped one of my trekking poles in half. I was sad about my trekking pole, but realized the trekking pole had stopped me from sliding face first into a tree. I got up, dusted myself off and kept going down the trail.

I never did see anyone camped along the trail as I hiked down. I don’t know what was more scary – hiking in the dark by myself or realizing I was the only person hiking the trail, in the dark! I made it down to the trailhead well after dark.

At the trailhead, I was still another 2.5 miles from VVR. Even though Mono Hot Springs was my ultimate destination for my Zero Day the next day, I wanted to get to VVR so I could camp that night with other people around and have plenty of time to get a hitch down to Mono Hot Springs in the morning.

Down the 2.5 mile road walk in the pitch dark black I went. I was so creeped out, I started playing music outloud on my phone, in hopes of scaring any animals away. I kept thinking something was behind me, but it was only the full moon shining on everything in its path.

After hiking over 25 miles for the day, at around 10:30, I walked into VVR. I was immediately greeted by a group of other hikers gathered around a campfire. They introduced themselves, showed me where the flushed toilets were, where I could set up my tent and let me know when and where breakfast would be in the morning. I was so relieved this day was finally over, I cried at the campfire in front of the other hikers. I was so exhausted, I didn’t even care. The tough day was now behind me.

Tough Day #3: Day 127 – Goat Rocks to White Pass Reroute

Goat Rocks was a section of the PCT I had been looking forward to doing. I’d seen countless pictures of other PCT hikers on this section and was excited to see the views with my own eyes.

The day before doing the Goat Rocks section, it had been overcast and the clouds above looked like they might bring rain. Grit and I made a collective decision to camp down low in a forested area so we’d have some protection, just in case it rained. Our decision was a good one because it was cold and rained all night. In the morning, there was still plenty of fog, but the sun was peeping out in spots. We took our chances, packed up camp and headed up the mountain.

The higher I climbed, the colder the temperature got. I had all my clothing layers – fleece, raincoat, puffy, leggings and gloves on because it was so freakin cold. The fog also seemed to get thicker. It was as if I was hiking up into a cloud. I could barely see in front of me because the fog was so thick.

As I climbed closer to the top, I had two pretty decently sized snowfields to cross. Even though the fog was thick all around me, I could still manage to see the pretty steep drop off below me. One slip, one fall and it would be a slick and steep ride down.

After the snowfields, I had to make a decision – stay on the PCT (the stock route) or take the Old Snowy route where I’d have to scramble my way to the top to see the epic views along the knife edge portion of the mountain. Since I was surrounded by fog, I stayed on the PCT. Turns out the PCT was quite challenging. The rocks were slick and it was still a long way down if I were to slip.

I’m not afraid of heights, but hiking Goat Rocks made me feel like I was. Sometimes the fog would open up just to let enough sunlight in and show me how high I was and how steep of a drop it was on the way down. This entire section of the trail was covered in loose rocks and had numerous steep ups and steep downs. It was incredibly cold and windy up there. I had to keep moving in order to keep my body temperature up and the shivers at bay. Half way through this section, about two miles in, I was ready for my hiking for the day to be over.

At the bottom of Goat Rocks, the PCT was closed due to multiple wildfires in the area. We were then rerouted on another series of trails coming down from Goat Rocks and into White Pass. Since it was a reroute on multiple trails, no one seemed to know exactly how long the reroute was or what the elevation gain/loss might be. A couple SoBos had told us the night before that the reroute would mainly be all down for us heading north. They were wrong. Very wrong.

For the first mile, the reroute did head down. After we passed the first campsite on the trail, we started to climb. The first climb was steep and long. Parts of the trail were crumbly with loose rock and most of this section was exposed in the hot sun. Once I made my way to the top, caught my breath and said a few choice words, I could see the two wildfires burning nearby. I could also see back to Goat Rocks. The fog had lifted completely. It was now clear blue, sunny skies over the entire section. I was so bummed. I’d been robbed of the views I’d been looking forward to seeing. I had to keep moving north if I wanted to get into town that night.

The best part of the reroute were the views. Now that the fog and clouds had burned off, I could see multiple lakes below and Mount Rainier off in the distance. Those beautiful views came with a tough and steep price. All along the reroute, the trail had numerous climbs up and steep hikes down. It never flattened out for very long. The trail itself was thin, filled with loose rock, crumbly and even overgrown with bushes and plants in some places. It was a difficult trail to travel on and forced me to slowdown my hiking pace.

A couple hours into the reroute, I became hellbent on making it into town that evening. I was tired, dirty, thirsty and hungry. I didn’t want to spend another night on trail, especially this hellacious reroute. So I kicked it in high gear and went as fast as I could, not stopping for breaks or to filter/refill my water. Since I had no idea how long the reroute was to town, it felt like the trail was never going to end. I’d climb up to the top of something and then down the other side, through several densely forested areas, having to climb up and down and up again.

At one point, I could start to hear a nearby highway. I got excited because I knew I must have been getting close to the end. At this time, it was also starting to get dark out. Soon I’d have to get my headlamp out to see and if I got to the highway too late, no one would stop to pick me up and give me a ride into town.

I saw a forest boundary line, getting even more excited about how close I must be getting to the end until I saw the fast moving creek right after the sign. My heart sank. It was like the Universe was testing me to see how bad I wanted to go into town that evening. There was no bridge going over the creek. It was starting to get pretty dark and the wind had picked up. There was a sketchy log that went halfway across the creek, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough crossing over the log and jumping off to the other side with my pack on. Desperate to get into town, I sat down on the rocks, took my shoes off, pulled my leggings up to my knees and walked my ass across the creek. Since it was getting dark, it was hard to see just how deep the creek was where I was crossing it. Halfway across, I fell into the creek up to my thighs, getting my leggings soaked in the cold water.

As soon I got across to the other side and out of the water, I didn’t have time to wipe my feet off. I stuffed my wet feet into my dry socks and shoes and moved my soaked leggings all the way down my legs. I got my headlamp out and scrambled my way on down the trail towards the highway. Only the trail didn’t go down. It was a steep half-mile climb up towards the road.

By the time I got to the highway, I was shivering, out of breath and the sun had set, making it dark out. I watched as the occasional car sped up and down the mountain highway. It would be a three mile road walk up into town. There wasn’t a big enough shoulder to walk along the highway safely in the dark. The chances of someone seeing me hitching on the highway or picking me up for that matter were slim to none. Feeling defeated, I could feel the tears form in my eyes as I slowly walked back down the trail.

My only option at this point was to pitch my tent somewhere along the trail so I could get back up to the highway first thing in the morning and hopefully get a hitch into town. Since the trail was such a steep incline, there wasn’t a flat spot to camp at close to the highway. The flattest spot available would be literally right on trail.

As I started to take my tent out of my pack, I saw a set of headlights from the highway. A car had pulled over to the side of the road! Desperate, I left my pack and tent and ran up to the highway with my headlamp still on. When I reached the highway, I saw the car on the side of the road, but was too scared to approach it. Instead, I turned my back to the car and pretended to read the fire closure notices at the trailhead.

“Are you hiking the PCT?” asked the male voice coming from the car. I smiled, turned around and screamed, “Yes!”

“Do you want a ride into town?”

“I’d LOVE a ride! Let me go grab my stuff.”

I ran down the trail, stuffed my tent back into my pack, threw my pack on my back and ran towards the car. In normal situations, I’d be more cautious by getting a good look at the driver before hopping in for a hitch, but I figured nothing could be worse than having to sleep on a slope, in the middle of the trail, in my tent, on a cold night with wet leggings. Town was only three miles away!

Luckily for me, the hitch turned out to be harmless. He was getting ready to start his section hike from White Pass to Trout Lake – and he was from Seattle. What are the odds?

As we drove up the highway, I gave him detailed scoop about the reroute, in-between thanking him repeatedly for giving me a ride into town.

He dropped me off at the Kracker Barrel, the town’s local convenience store/gas station where I thanked him one more time and said goodbye. Kracker Barrel was closed for the evening so I walked behind the building, ready to set up my tent at the first safe place I could find. As I looked at the back of the building, to my right I could see the lit up sign on the building next door that said, “Lodging” After the day I had, I would have paid anything for a room for the night.

I immediately walked next door and rented a room for the evening. In this magical and well-earned room, I would take a warm shower, soak my feet in Epsom salt, heat up one of my hiker trash meals in the room’s microwave and eat candy in a warm, clean bed while I watched “Purple Rain” on TV until 2:30 in the morning. A perfect ending to an incredibly tough day.

#Bear Ridge #VVR #Vermillion Valley Resort #Mt. Whitney #Whitney Portal #Goat Rocks #White Pass

9 notes · View notes

mythicallyyours · 5 years

Note

I'm a gmm fan who likes to draw Rhett and Link. However, I hardly see any fanfiction or oneshots or head cannons for the drawing or painting artists. If you have a little time could you write a lil piece with some whimsy for the mythical Beast artists? ☺

Hello anon! Your request intrigues me, most of the artist mythical beasts I know may feel the same in the fan fiction world. Also, many of those artists have been recognized by Rhett and Link *even in their Book of Mythicality*

Hmm, whimsy. Magic can be whimsy, can't it?

Hope this is something you were looking for, nonny. Have a marvelous day and keep drawing our boys.

***********************************************************

"Oh god, oh god! How!? Wha!?" You whispered as your room seemed to explode in a shimmery light.

The room shook as you dove into your closet just incase it was an earthquake. Then it went still. You peeked out, and covered your mouth to hide your gasp.

They were standing beside your desk, big as life. Rhett and Link, both looked about your room bewildered.

*****************************************************

Link licked his lips, "Uh, what did you do?"

Rhett frowned as he stepped over a backpack, "Me? What makes you think I did this?"

Link crossed his arms, "Look man, your pranking has gone too far this time. Did you drug me?"

Rhett rolled his eyes, "No! I'm not that heartless. Food poisoning, were hallucinating from that shady taco stand Josh suggested."

Link shook his head, "I don't feel sick, what the crap happened?"

Rhett leaned over on the desk, "I haven't a clue. But it appears we are in someone's room. Maybe a girl."

Link stared at the stuffed animal collection organized on the shelves, "Definitely a girl. Were we kidnapped?"

Rhett shook his head, "I doubt it. Hey look, she's an artist. Pretty good one too she drew us. Hey! She has a gmm hoodie, she's probably a Mythical Beast."Link stepped over her side table, "There's our book. Definitely a Mythical Beast."

Rhett placed his hands on his hips, "Well, that's good to know."

Link picked up the sketchbook, "Drawn wearing the same outfits we had on today...how would she know?"

Rhett scratched his beard, "Psychic spy mythical beast in training?"

Link ran his fingers over the leather cover, "This looks old, like Victorian old. Maybe it's magic."

Rhett's eyes narrowed, "Maybe she's a witch?"

***********************************************************

As the duo continued to voice their opinions, frustrations, ideas about what had happened, you slowly moved to the corner of your closet, to get a better view of the two men bumbling about your room. As much as you enjoyed their daily show, you didn't want them to see you. Mostly because you weren't the most socially engaging person on the planet. Plus they were not happy, and they were fairly gigantic.

Rhett kept getting his head caught up in your decorative lights and Link nearly hit the floor over your book case. They looked so much smaller online.

As you shifted to the corner, your foot thumped against the wall and the room went quiet.

Rhett shushed Link, "Shh, hey, did you hear that?"

Link lowered his voice, "Yeah, maybe she has a cat."

Rhett groaned, "I hate cats. It came from the closet."

You frantically looked around to find something to hide under.

Links voice got closer, "Wanna check it out?"

Rhett joined him, "Might as well." The handle jiggled upon contact, "3,2,1."

The door flung open.You froze under the open sleeping bag you had covered yourself with.

****************************************************

Link moved a few of the hanging clothes, "Here, kitty..."

Rhett elbowed Link and pointed down at a lump under the sleeping bag, "I don't see anything."

Link reached for the top of the sleeping bag, "Me either." He yanked off the sleeping bag and grabbed your foot, "Ah ha! Gotcha!"

You screamed and bolted away.

Your scream was joined with two more screams from Rhett and Link, "Aaaaagh!"

The duo slammed the door and fell on top of each other in a pile of arms and legs with a thud.

Rhett groaned, "Oooh my back...ugh."

Links eyes remained wide as he searched the room trying to catch his breath, "T-there's a-a girl in t-there.."

Rhett shifted to his knees and held his lower back, "Yeah, I could tell by the shriek. Definitely female."

Link pushed his glasses back up on his face, "Gosh, I almost had a heart attack. I-I grabbed her foot, I thought it was the cat."

Rhett reached for the door, "Well, we can't leave her in there in the dark."

The door opened again allowing light into the closet.

Link crawled back towards the closet, "Hello? A-are you alright?"

He pushed back the hanging clothes to let some light in, "Sorry we scared you, but you scared us too."

Rhett chuckled, "Yeah, we're old, brittle and startle easily."

********************************************

You were curled into a ball in the corner holding your hands over your ears sniffling back tears when the light hit you.

Links expression softened into a small smile when you made eye contact with him, "There you are. You alright?"

Your eyes shifted to Rhett who was staring at you. His large greyish green eyes expressed equal parts curiosity and warmth, "She looks pretty shaken."

Link pushes up his glasses, "What's your name, mythical beast?"

You shook your head.

Rhett tipped his head, "Why don't you come out of there?"

You shook your head again and swallowed the lump in your throat.

Link reached for you, "I'm sosorry I grabbed you like that. Hope your not hurt."

Your eyes followed his hand as it neared your shoulder and you recoiled.

Regardless of your apprehension, Links large palm gently cupped your shoulder and gave it a light steady squeeze, "Easy now, don't be alarmed."

Rhett bent down with his hands resting on his knees, "I don't think you hurt her, Bo. Just scared her speechless."

Link looked about the room, "Is your name Aria? It's written in your art book."

You nodded, "I-I'm Aria."

Link motioned with his palm, "Come on out, Aria. Its okay. You know we thought you were a cat at first."

Rhett chuckled, "I'm glad you're not a cat."

You shifted to your knees, "M-me too.."

The duo chuckled.Link grasped you by the arm helping you up, "Up and out."

Rhett sat in the art desk chair, "So, Why were you in the closet?"

You pointed at your sketchbook, "I-I thought there was a-an earth quake and the book sort of exploded like fireworks."

Link scratched his head "Exploded? It looks fine to me."

Rhett clapped his hands together and shouted, "Magic! It has to be magic."

The sudden movement caused you to jump.

Link reached for the book, "It could be, it looks really old maybe? Aria?"

The duo glanced at you, seemingly shocked that you were several feet away.

They looked at each other.Rhett cleared his throat, "Uh, you okay?"

Your lip quivered, "I-I'm sorry. If I-I'd known you'd b-be zapped here b-because of a drawing, I-I wouldn't h-have t-touched it. P-please d-don't be angry at me."

Link tipped his head, "Hey, hey, it's alright. We're not mad, just befuddled. Come on over here. Don't be shy."

Rhett flipped thru the book, "Maybe drawing us again would put us back where we are?"

Link kept a hand on your shoulder, "That would be worth a try. Could you do that, Aria?"

You raised an eyebrow, "What if you get cloned?"

Rhett frowned, "Oh, good point. Well, we were in our offices when we got zapped here, maybe draw us in there?"

Link locked eyes with you, "Do you know what our office looks like?"

"I-I may have a reference photo. I-I could try and draw your office around in the background."

Rhett nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I'm up for that! Try that."

An hour later, you were sketching the basics of Rhett and Links office while the dynamic duo occupied your couch and your bean bag pillow. You had given them a bag of Doritos and a 2 liter of mellow yellow to snack on and put on a movie for them to watch while you worked; An American Tail.

It was unnerving having an audience in the room while you drew, but Rhett and Link were friendly and didn't seem to be unhappy as you did your best to make them comfortable. They stirred up conversation, but you couldn't always find words to speak in response. Words were always hard, but now in the presence of people you actually admired and liked, it was harder.

Another 30 minutes passed and you were finishing up the details of their office when Link crouched beside you with an arm around you, "How's it coming?"

You nodded, "A-almost done."

Rhett appeared above you, "Wow, you don't leave out any detail do you? That's awesome!"

Link laughed, "I bet Stevie has had a cow trying to figure out where we disappeared to. It was kind of nice to have a few hours to relax a little. Thanks to our hostess."

Rhett nodded, "I even took a little nap during the movie."

You erased a smudge, "I-i think I'm done. I'm not sure how it works with you guys getting back home."

Link spun your chair around so you were facing them, "Hey, believe it or not we needed a little magical trip today."

Rhett took a knee, "Just sitting back, snacking and drinking a little mellow yellow was a treat. I had a good time. Just be careful what you draw in that book."

Link pushed up his glasses, "Actually, If you could zap us out of a nasty taste test we have next week, I wouldn't be upset at all."

Rhett laughed, "Right, that would be great; just kidding."

The book began to have a soft iridescent glow and you sighed, "Well, goodbye."

Link pulled you into a quick tight hug, "If you're ever in Burbank, look us up."

Rhett gave you a warm side hug, "We'll return the hospitality."

The room shook as light blew up from the page of the journal. The duo faded from view like fog in the daylight leaving you alone in your art room.It all could have been a dream, except for the drawing in your journal had changed cause Rhett and Link were holding up Barbra and Jade their dogs waving at you with smiles.It was real.

4 notes · View notes