wyatt johnston talks his sleep schedule — practice — 04.02.24
[what’s it like getting back at six am? i mean, is it like — a day or two, or how do you adjust to that?] i mean, for me, i think it’s … um, i know i can kind of get through it a little easier, i know some guys, you know, have kids and some other responsibilities where they don’t have the luxury of being able to sleep all day, but, um … yeah, i mean, i had — i was able to sleep in as long as i wanted and get as much sleep as i needed, which, um … you know, i think helps a lot for sure. um, obviously, it’s not easy though. uh — so definitely kinda took a little bit, but, yeah, i mean, for me it’s pretty easy just to — i mean, sleep ‘til i don’t need to anymore.
[so how long was that? what time d’you get up then?] um … i think it was around one or so? when i got up? it wasn’t — it wasn’t too bad. you know, obviously you wanna try to sleep at night too. um … so, yeah, i think it worked out, you know, worked out pretty well.
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unprompted / always accepting / anonymous
"How old are you, Link?"
Link imagines it like this.
If he could exist the way light does when it refracts, dispersing into a kaleidoscope of colours from a single point, each footstep he takes would be haunted by a hundred different shadows. They are moments he can't sear from his memories, all separated by shapes and spaces he's had to fill for each one: he is the Hero of Time, nine summers, small enough that he only needs to ball up for his shield to cover him. He is the Hero of Time, sixteen summers, big enough that the habitual full-body strength he swings his sword with takes a Wolfos down far quicker than his heart had anticipated.
He is nine, afraid of touch. He is sixteen, afraid of the dark. He is nine, left behind. He is sixteen, choosing to go back. He is nine, wiping Deku Baba sap from the back of his hands. He is sixteen, closing his eyes against the blood-splatter of a man whose ichor he still feels between his fingers. Link is nine and sixteen and everything beyond and in between—
He is the distorted reflection of someone's son, cursed to a terrible fate. He is Darmani the Third, so old that they ask him to be the next Goron Elder. He is Mikau, killed too young, but grown enough that the blood of Zoran heroes sings loud in his stolen veins. He is nobody he knows how to be, maybe ten summers, dreaming about years that didn't happen and living through cycles of days he's long since stopped counting.
If he could exist the way light does when it refracts, he'd wave a hand at these silhouettes. He is any of them. He is all of them. He is none of them. Time is kind of real, and it kind of isn't.
Link answers like this.
He holds both hands up, fingers visibly splayed. Ten. His right one drops and his left turns level to the ground, seesawing up and down from thumb to pinky. Give or take. He smiles, a huff of something that might be amused for a joke that's only funny to him — which is to say, it's not very funny at all. However much time needs to be given or taken.
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I'm here to gift you with the unexpected but yet functional idea of Sai and Sasuke as roommates.
Of course the beginning would be super awkward, with all the stuff about Sai being a "replacement" and Sasuke being a "traitor" and the fact Sasuke doesn't know him, neither feels comfortable living under the same roof as him because he does not trust him.
And yet I feel like they both would find little to complain about in terms of keeping the space, because both are constantly out doing stuff and they keep their rooms and the shared rooms clean and free of obstructions. They only acknowledge each other with a nod or something and go to their personal tasks, like clockwork.
Also both are used to that, you know. The trauma of the ways they had lived until then makes it easy to tolerate a roommate that keeps minding his own business and leaving you be.
And when they finally gain some trust, I think their conversations would be comically short and brutal to the point. Sasuke disliked Sai at first for his rudeness but he is also thankful Sai is honest with him. He loves Naruto and Sakura, but it hits his nerves sometimes because he's unsure about what they think of him. And Sai is curious. He can tell Sasuke is not unkind, so he asks questions and knows where not to push.
Also crash at their place often enough for them to appreciate the calmness that they share. It's not like they are friends or anything, but they know how to be civil and they are both respectful (with time) and it's easier that way.
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Also I think I'd be the funniest to see Sai telling Sasuke that Ino said that someone else said because they both like some brand of gossip. Sasuke can trust Sai to give him just the relevant details and not the eternal rambling of Ino, and Sai enjoys practicing his socialize skills with him, since they both need it.
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Since everyone seems to love my sex shop stories, here’s another one.
Phone calls were literally a game for us. Not all phone calls, but there was a specific brand of call where guys would creep on us. 90% of the workforce at the sex shops was women. So we’d get dudes calling jacking off or trying to get their jollies from us.
The game: make them hang up. We could have hung up. On a few occasions I did, but for the most part we made a sport out of getting creeps to go flaccid. It really depended on a caller.
You couldn’t just go in for belittling them straight off- some guys wanted that. You had to tailor your strategy to the perv. Overall it was pretty fun and it turned an aspect of the job that could’ve become a major bummer into a fun sport. We’d get excited when the phones rang.
So one day the phone rings. I pick up and it was very clearly a young teen who was putting on a deep voice. I was utterly delighted, I’d never had a crank call before. He said, “I have a dildo emergency! Can you deliver 5 boxes of dildos to my home?!”
It took everything in me not to crack in that moment. It was so funny. It was like three kids had walked through the door in a trench coat and the phrase “dildo emergency” was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.
But I kept it together. In smooth customer service tones I replied, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear you’re having an emergency, but due to the nature of our product we do require people to come pick it up themselves.”
The caller audibly deflated. Some of the deep voice he was putting on bled away when he said plaintively, “But it’s an emergency…”
“I’m sorry, sir, rules are rules.”
He hung up. I burst out laughing and told my coworker what had happened. She said, “I will buy you lunch if you call back and pretend you can deliver something.”
This sounded like an all around win for me, and the kid hadn’t used anything to block his number. So I called back.
“Hello!” This was before caller ID was common for home phones and so he picked up in his totally normal voice, several octaves higher than before.
“Hello, I’m calling regarding your dildo emergency?”
“Oh! Hem hem,” he coughed, getting his voice back into character for me. “Yes! The emergency!”
“Well I’ve spoken to my manager and it’s your lucky day. We’ll be able to make a delivery after all. Five boxes you said? We can swing it by later, we’ll just need your name, address, and credit card number.”
He was thrown by needing to provide info and was silent for a moment then said, “Well how much is it for five boxes?”
“About five hundred dollars, sir.”
He slipped out of his character voice to exclaim, “Five hundred dollars?! What kind of dildos are they?!”
“Just standard six inches with balls, sir.”
This was his breaking point. He started wheezing with laughter trying to repeat the phrase “six inches with balls” incoherently.
“So your address and card info?”
He hung up and I broke down laughing too. We both got a kick out of it, and I won the game twice in one day.
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