and basements


‪I’ve got desperate desires and unadmirable plans, my tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent. ‬


When I shuffled downstairs at 7AM in my bathrobe and started making coffee, Glynda side-eyed me and asked, “Are you really going into work on spring break?”

Alas, breaks are meant for professors to attempt to catch up on research and class materials…


This is an old story, even as the characters and locales change. It takes place in some land far away from the city where the sun always shines and the roadside is a place of constant renewal.

You’ve seen it in a storybook, on a postcard, or some AAA map you discovered in your grandparent’s basement that points to treasure you still believe can be hunted down, even as the labels have faded and the roads have changed. 

They tell of a place where you might leave your shadow behind, where you can float with your cigarette ash above the floral carpet to a poolside idyll. Here you’re promised the perfectly safe adventure of dreams.

It’s the most wonderful place ever conjured up.

If the American motel of the mid-century has an obvious literary antecedent, it’s Neverland. Mundane time must pause at the motor court, this haven of thieves and vacationers, replaced by the drama of experiences that happen to the real you, which is, of course, entirely fictional.

The modernist faith in the transformative power of the symbol trickled into the pomp of blazing motel signs, with their blinking lights promising a frontier country ripe for exploration, adventure, and, above all, play.

Who needs ferry dust when you have a Chevrolet Impala and a full tank of gas?

The motel promised to make us Peter Pan. There we could defeat Captain Hook, who was just the insidious figure of our own humdrum lives. For a moment, you could be free of the imposing shadow of suburban America, which was always waiting to be be sewed back on when you returned home. 

But where exactly is that?

Photos by RetroRoadsidePhoto, William Bird, Cardboard America, Clara Williams, and Gary Martin.

talesfromcallcenters: "Why won't you make my son talk to you?!"

Referring people in poverty to resources tends to lead to pretty interesting calls and this sub is bringing back some of the more interesting ones.

W: “Hi, I’m calling about my son. To get him into one of your shelters.”

Me: “Well, I can help you with that but I’d need to talk to him.”

W: “Well, my son has been living in my basement too long. I want to kick him out, but I want to take him to your shelter.”

Me: “Unfortunately, ma'ma, all of our shelters are full at this time. I could put him on the waiting list but I’d still have to talk to him.”

W: “Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you. Can’t you make him?”

Me: blink “No, ma'ma. I can’t make your son talk to me. All I can do is talk to him if he gets on the line.”

W: “But he doesn’t want to talk to you, and if I kick him out without talking to you he’ll be homeless!!!”

Me: “I understand your frustration, but-”

W: “This is unacceptable. I don’t want him to be homeless! I can’t believe you won’t talk to him!”


By: writeandknow

anonymous asked:

How old would you say Draal is? I would say between 300-400 years.

Oh, I’d say he’s definitely that young at least. (And yay, age hcs!)

Going off of Blinky’s age (~600 so he’s said?) seeming close to a human’s mid-to-late 40s, I’d definitely place Draal at approximately 300 years, give or take. 

I think it’s part of what makes his whole basement-dwelling-older-brother thing work really well. He seems to be the Troll equivalent of a young adult - probably between 19 and 25 human years in relation to his “adulting” skill development. 


  • Still sort of trying to figure out what to do with himself?? 
    • Like if he’s not the new Trollhunter, who is he?
    • Probably has a future in being a trainer, he’s doing really well so far!
  • A bit reckless (harmlessly so, most of the time. But imagine Gritshaka!Draal.)
  • Not completely set in his ways; More open to living on the surface than someone who might have spent a few more centuries in Trollmarket.
  • “Is there a couch in the basement??? This is all I need I live here now-” 
  • Still the “Good Job, Son!” kinda dude
  • Probably has snuck upstairs to microwave pizza rolls at 2am