ωωωωωωωωωωω . WATCH# STREAM https://moviebemka.com/id-7622.htm?utm_source=form_run ⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧⇧ Reporter: roy donk https://twitter.com/Luke_Layden Info: Currently: knee deep in the hooplah | Formerly: Boston College Drama. Tomatometers 4,7 / 10 Stars. Release date 2020. runtime 86 Min. movie Info Barely escaping an avalanche during a family ski vacation in the Alps, a married couple is thrown into disarray as they are forced to reevaluate their lives and how they feel about each other. Inspired by the motion picture FORCE MAJEURE by Ruben Östlund. Downhill snowboard 2. Downhill will ferrell. Downhill vs dog. Downhill longboarding. Downhill trailer song. I was going to say pass. then i saw Tormund. Downhill stick. Downhill kola. You realy like stairs. Downhill review. Not a single person has a convincing South African accent. They should have gotten the accent coach from Blood Diamond. Race Information Name: California International Marathon Date: December 8, 2019 Distance: 26. 2 miles Location: Sactown Strava: Goals Goal Description Completed? A Beat my official PR (2:49:48) Yes B Beat my unofficial PR (2:43:50 Yes C 2:40 Yes D 2:35 No E Don't get lost on course Yes Hey everybody, itme. Back with another long ramble probably. Buckle up kiddos, because I’m pretty sure I’m still wine drunk! Okay so as with all things, this cycle was heavily influenced by the previous one. I ran Tallahassee in February, and at mile 9 they sent me and the chase pack I was in the wrong direction. Garmin recorded 27. 27 miles for the race, it’s fine I’m over it. However, this really set a lot of things in motion for the rest of the year. I had originally thought I was going to do a redemption marathon at Glass City in April, but my recovery took a lot longer than expected, and I moved from Middle Georgia to West Florida, so I decided against it. Training By the time Glass City rolled around, I was just starting to get my legs back underneath me. I hung out for the weekend and witnessed the magic that is Toledo, Ohio and got ready mentally. The first week in May, I knew I wanted to start building my base for CIM, but I knew I was 32 weeks out, and that’s just way too long. I took this opportunity to assess my goals, strengths, and weaknesses. I’m a very aerobic runner, so I usually just lean on that hardcore. I knew my leg strength and speed were really holding me back. Starting the week after Glass City, I did a JD 5k cycle. I had never done one before, but the gains I saw from it felt like they appeared overnight. The big thing I liked was the 200/400 workouts. I got very comfortable being very uncomfortable, and as the cycle progressed I was able to get very consistent at pacing them. This was also about when it started to get dangerously hot outside. It wasn’t unusual for me to see weather that was like 83 degrees dew point 79 before the sun came up. I don’t feel like it prevented me from doing the fast track work, but long runs and such were necessarily done on the treadmill. I’m pretty comfortable at dropping the ego and pace o deal with the heat, but it’s kind of next level when thinking about long runs. The treadmill kills my soul, the sun kills my body. I also don’t have any hills near me at all, like none, but I knew I needed to be doing hill sprints, because my stride was lacking in the length department big time. Typically, I would do my warm-up and track work, jog into the gym and get on the treadmill for 6x30on/30stand at whatever incline, then head back outside for strides and the cooldown. Other things that were new to me: “easy runs. ” Not like I’ve never run easy before, but I’ve always followed the Pfitz method where he differentiates between General Aerobic and Recovery pace. With JD not doing that, I was forced to take my non-workout days more moderately so that I could consistently run a relatively similar easy pace. I realized that I’d been pushing my unimportant days too hard, and then using Recovery pace as a crutch for racing long runs and knowing that I didn’t get a break it forced me to be a bit more responsible. Eyeroll, whatever. Also, strides. So many strides. Like 4x per week. At first it was really daunting, but actually I think that was incredibly beneficial. It was such an easy gain for me to make, and I hadn’t ever really considered it before. Okay so now we’re 10 weeks into 5k training, It’s June. In Florida. There aren’t any fucking 5ks around. Great planning, Chris. So we made plans with /u/anbu5000, Mrs OG, and a non-internet friend, to go meet up for a relatively deep 5k on the 4th of July. I ended up running 17:09 on it which was a MASSIVE PR. Before the cycle, I did a 5k in 18:17, so it was over a minute faster. Also, my stride rate had significantly dropped, and my stride length had improved. So I learned that everything I was trying to do was working. This weekend was also good, because it was a kick in the pants for me to be better about prehab. Mrs OG is heading into the final year of her DPT program, so I’m always grilling her for advice and maintenance. Usually it boiled down to my core being terrible. Paired with bullying from Anbu, I realized I needed to be better. I started doing SAM work, and did it everyday basically until taper for the marathon. The 5k PR was a massive positive reinforcement for me, so it let me know I was on the right path. I felt like after that race though, I knew it was getting hotter and racing would be more scarce, so I opted to not continue with the 5k work. I accomplished what I planned. I took the following week easy and started doing more marathon specific stuff. For those 11 weeks of 5k work, I averaged 74. 5 miles per week, but peaked at like 95ish. Okay so 3 pages into the race report and I’m still 21 weeks from CIM (pronounced ‘sim. ’) I hope y’all brought snacks. Launching into marathon prep, my goal was to average low to mid 90 mpw, but peak much higher than that. I kept the strides, hill sprints, easy runs, and treadmill long runs. For the most part, my week looked like this- CV workout tuesday, longish run wednesday, long easy tempo friday, long run sunday. The only efforts I did outside were the CV workouts and easy runs. All of the long stuff, and the long tempos had to be done on the treadmill. Even if I had adjusted pace for HR it wouldn’t have been survivable. It was just too hot. So I punished myself on the treadmill. What was nice about the treadmill long run, was that I could get real experimental about fueling. I usually had 32 oz of water, 32 oz of double strength gatorade (orange flavor obviously, ) and 3-5 gels. I got really good at taking fuel even if I wasn’t feeling great. I really liked having the stryd pod for all of these treadmill runs, because I could get an accurate distance and pace. Thankfully, all of our treadmills at Tyndall are new, because the hurricane destroyed all the old ones, but whatever. Fast forward to like September. It’s still incredibly miserable out. I decided that I wanted to do a bunch of small races to kind of get used to the racing attitude. Luckily, I learned about a group in Tallahassee that hosts a ton of really small and cheap races. So I signed up for a bunch of them. I didn’t really set any expectations, because the weather was still bad. By no expectations, I mean my goal was to PR every single tune-up race regardless of course or weather. Aside from the 5k in July, my newest PR was from January 2018, it’s fine whatever. So I ran a lot, raced a lot. I pumped out 7 weeks that were 100+ miles, and 3 of those were 110+ miles. I did PR every tune-up race I ran, but a lot of them are still soft, because I didn’t taper for anything. It just felt like everything was going amazing. About 7 weeks out, I had some pretty bad DOMS in my quads though, which was strange. Stairs were getting really difficult, as well as things like getting off the toilet. I was ignoring it though, just marathon training. A few mornings later and they’re still sore. I looked at my Garmin connect app, and it’s now telling me that I’m overreaching. I know a lot of people don’t put stock in the Garmin, but mine had been solid in the productive range for months until this. I’ll post pictures or something later. I ended up opting out of doing a 10k I had signed up for that weekend, but I had already beat my 10k PR this cycle so it was whatever. Then my knee started to hurt as well. I nagged Mrs OG to help me, and she reminded me that PRICE is right. Prehab wasn’t helping my quads anymore, and was actually hurting my knee, so we moved to hard rest. This was pretty unnerving for me, because it was less than 2 months to CIM, but I knew if I tried to ride if out, it would only get worse. 7 weeks was enough time to get back. I ended up with like a 30 mile week and a 17 mile week. I DNS’d my only half marathon that I had signed up for, and just focused on the only race that mattered. I did bounce back pretty quickly, and so with 5 weeks left, I just worked on getting sharp. I had so many miles in me that I wasn’t worried about logging tons of miles. I just wanted to do the right work. I did a lot of LT work, I was finalyl able to get outside for my long runs, and then I just kept it easy. I figured with the 2 weeks off, that I didn’t need a full 3 week taper, and usually those make me feel flat. I feel best when I’m doing work, so I decided to just keep doing work. I did a 10 day taper, that started with a Turkey trot 5k. I wasn’t sure how it would go, but with a much more balanced training approach this cycle, I was actually able to PR it in almost identical weather conditions as the July race. There was a SNAFU at the turnaround, and my chip didn’t work, but I ran 17 flat. I genuinely think that the turnaround issue costed me 6-8 seconds, so I felt very good about my fitness going into taper. Ignoring the 2 weeks before CIM, I averaged 83. 5 miles per week (for the 19 weeks, ) logged 2400 miles exactly over the previous 30 weeks, and PR’d the: 1. 5 mile, 5k, 10k, 20k trail. I felt good. Is there anything I would change? Probably not. The quad issue I felt like was a calculated risk. I took the risk, and it didn’t really work out. I think my workout efforts were very well planned, long runs weren’t too hard. Strides were amazing. I never felt flat at any point in training. Time to run the only race that matters. My last official marathon PR was in September 2017. I know that’s not really a fair statement, because at Tallahassee I split faster than that, but logic didn’t make me feel better. My PRs were old. At the ripe old age of 26 I was scared that I would never have a good marathon again. Pre-race The week prior to CIM, Mrs OG had finals to take, and I had work to do, so we flew out to Sactown separately, but met up. Slowly throughout the Friday, all of the other meese arrived. Truly we were the most beautiful squad to every bless our AirBnBs. We ate some dinner, relaxed a bit, and hung out. The day before the race, a couple of people ran the 5k. Mrs OG set like a 90 second PR or something stupid. We got brunch and all the non-marathoners got unlimited sangria. We all debated just not running, and partying instead. Then we just did normal expo stuff and hung out! Somewhere in this weekend I learned that CIM is point to point, which I should have probably researched. It’s fine. After dinner, I realized that I hadn’t brought my gatorade powder mix, so we went to a few grocery stores and had no ’s fine. Whatever. I bought a white cherry gatorade (because they didn’t even have orange, but whatever. ) Race morning, I brought my fresh next% shoes out of the box for the first time. I’m aware that this means my race doesn’t count, and neither does any of my training. It’s also a net downhill course, so it’s probably worth a 4 hour marathon in real shoes. I filled my handheld with gatorade, ate a clif bar, and shakily put my bib on. I wasn’t really nervous for the race until this point. But as I’m putting on the bib I’m remembering that 26. 2 miles is really fucking far. Our logistics team lovingly gave us rides over to the busses that would be escorting us to our death. I watched some pre-race hype videos with imnotwadegreeley and PFP. I realized while sitting on the bus that I didn’t bandaid my nips. Can’t do much about it now though, sorry buds. If y’all haven’t caught this theme yet, my life is basically a dumpster fire and it’s always my fault. Check my bags, and head to the start. In the corral I found myself right behind AKnumbers. We chatted for a bit about how it didn’t make sense that anybody could line up anywhere. I heard a guy in front of me chat about trying to break 3, and AK and I shoved as far up as we could. National anthem plays and we’re off! Race One thing was going through my mind when we started. PFP had told me that the first few miles are really downhill so bank effort, not time, and just get right on pace. In the weeks leading up, I was thinking that getting between 5:50 and 6:00 pace would be reasonable. I spent the first little but keeping easy. I was just about right on 6 flat pace. There were a lot of small packs that would form, splinter, and reform at a slightly different pace. Most people were flying, and so I let them go. A lot of people were crushing the uphills, but I was not about that life. About half a mile in, I felt my quad tendinitis, but brushed it off. It’s all mental. 6:03, 6:00, 5:56 I was in a good groove passing through 5k. There were a couple of guys that were near me, but we were always moving forward and back on each other. Some random guy came up next to me and asked what my goal time was. I said like 2:37ish, and he said he was targeting 2:44. I told him he was really hot, and he pretty much immediately dropped me. I was taking a drink of my gatorade every mile, had a gu at mile 5, and took nuun and water both at every aid station. In these miles I felt really good at the pace I was at, but with all the constant little ups and down I basically threw out my idea of 2:35. On a flat course, maybe, but poor little florida man was out of his comfort zone for sure. Before hitting 10k, I heard a guy make a weird sound and drop to the side. This seemed really early to be dying like that, but it matched the scene. 6:00, 5:51, 5:57, 6:01 At this point, I found myself in a pack with 3 women. We were working pretty good, except this random guy was with us. He whipped his ankles something gnarly, so he really took like 2 widths of people. He would constantly step in front, swerve in front of each person in the pack, and then settle down for a minute. Rinse. Repeat. He was also narrating the entire fucking race in third person. This pack dissolved and I 100% blame him for it. I was still drinking my gatorade, at mile 8ish. I knew we were gonna see our squad at roughly 11, so I planned to drink as much gatorade as I could, and toss the bottle when we passed. I wanted the fuel early, but didn’t want to carry it the whole race. I found myself tucked into a pack and zoned out, when I heard my name called. Like a lighthouse on a dark night, Bantsew’s beautiful midwest shout pulled me back to safety. I immediately went up like 30 points on the mood scale, threw my handheld with a perfect arc to Cashewlater, saw MrsOG, and let out a quick “Hail Satan! ” and cruised off. 6:03, 6:03, 5:55, 5:56 As we’re going, I’m seeing more and more people standing off on the side of the road or slowly walking. It was terrifying that it was so commonplace so early in the race. It appeared that a lot of people were having a rough go. I rolled through an aid station, nuun went down. Grabbed the water, and it went down my mashed potato pipe. I coughed it all up and a volunteer yelled “Yeah, Nuun is pretty bad. ” I laughed and continued on. It rained on and off throughout the race, but never as bad as Boston 2018, so I didn’t mind it. Coming through mile 16, a guy yelled that this was the last awful mile. I don’t believe it was true, but this mile was particularly crappy. None of the hills were that bad, but there was never a real break from them. Up down. My quads have been pretty noisy for like 10 miles now. No reason to give in to their demands now. 5:59, 6:00, 6:01, 6:09 Now I was working. The worst of the hills were over. All I had to do was survive. So many people walking. I feared I would be one of them. I pushed the dark thoughts out of my head. All I could think about was tallahassee. The awful summer training. All of the suffering that went into this race. If I could do that, I could do this. I tucked in with people when I could, but it was very spread thin. If I could tuck in for even a few minutes I could, but it seemed like as soon as I did, the pack would slow down. Fueling was still easy though, I had gotten 3 gels in, and had my 4th one at 20. Usually Gu starts to make me sick, but I think the practice really helped prevent that. 6:07, 6:05, 6:02, 6:06 Alright now we’re having a bad time. It was supposedly flat, but it felt all uphill to me. My quads were shot. Hamstrings were struggling. Glute med wrecked. Ankles were surprisingly okay! All I could think about was getting to the end, and not stopping. I refused to join the walkers. If I walked once, it was over. I don’t think I could handle a failure after all this preparation. Just keep moving. I’m running, and I’m passing everybody that is walking, but I’m moving back quickly. Everybody that is still running is passing me. I was in a weird twilight zone of pain. I knew I had to keep marching though. Death would not come for these old bones today. I passed a photographer at mile 22, and threw my arms up to feign excitement. I immediately remembered that Mr800 did the exact pose and certainly looked better doing it. Now I was mad that I was thinking about 800 this late in the race. Get out of my head! Actually though, it was a welcome thought. I hate him, because I have to keep working my ass off if I want to keep his PR slower than mine. The wheels had absolutely fallen off, but I was still slowing doing like 6:20 to 6:30 pace at the slowest. I realized that I was not completely blown. I was doing amazing, and I was not going to let a little pain stop me today. At around mile 24, I saw the lighthouse reaching out to me. Banstew’s great voice, and everybody was so excited. How could they be so excited? Cashewlater was there running alongside me, he was telling me how great I was doing. I knew it was a lie, I was ugly, hurting, crying, and my form was shot. So I told him he was too nice and to fuck off. He accepted this tactic and told me to fuck myself as well. Even when being an asshole it’s really just him being a genuinely nice guy. I hate it. Passing 40k, all I could think about was how it was less than a PT test. I just had to keep going and I would be fine. I tried to latch on to people passing me, and it worked to varying degrees. Lots of mental games. Just finish. 400m to go. 200m to go. 2:40:39 6:15, 6:09, 6:15, 6:35, 6:28, 6:33, 6:36, 1:24 (5:57 pace) Don’t cry Chris. Don’t cry. Everybody is still out spectating so you have to be self-sufficient for just a while longer. I got my bags, changed my clothes near a couple of elites on a bench. Finally, I was found. After 32 weeks, this old body could have a break. Post-race We ate pizza! We drank a ton! Everybody did so amazing, so hanging out was just super positive. I honestly can’t express just how beautiful everybody in our group was, both physically and personally. Everything was so amazing about the weekend and I could not have done it without anybody. As far as my training goes, I’m incredibly happy with it. I don’t think that there is much I would change. Even getting the quad tendinitis, I feel like it was a calculated risk. In the future I probably shouldn’t race 20k on trails and then do a 22 miler on the treadmill. I do feel like my legs felt fast and springy throughout training which was really new for me, and so I definitely like all the strides and hill work to keep me fresh. Also 10 day taper was really good I think. I didn’t feel flat at all during it. It has taken me a few days to write this, because Mrs OG and I took a few days to really just enjoy life, so my ramblings couldn’t be posted sooner, I hope y’all enjoyed. Made with a new race report generator created by /u/herumph. Downhill cast. WatCh moVie xMoVIes8 (HDRip)… WAtcH downhill mOviE 2018 'Movie Watch DOWNHILL' Watch DOWNHILL [1080p. Not long ago I posted this answer to this prompt (part 1) and I realised that the original story I was telling was so brilliant that it had to be continued. After all, someone asking for Part 2 got like 6 upvotes. So like Prometheus I have descended from heaven to bring you part 2. r/writing told me that the best way to get a literary agent is to show them your Reddit posts, so it's not like I'm doing this for free. u/gragoyle, this is for you.. Anyway please enjoy my masterpiece and don't criticize me please. “Samrose”, I insisted, “You have to let me take your letter and go to Hogwarts myself. I really really need to go to Hogwarts! ” “Katniss, no, as I’ve told you a thousand times, and am repeating now for your benefit and no other reason, even if I don’t want to go to Hogwarts, you can’t go either. They’ll kill you if they find out you can’t use the force! ” “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Samrose. Only 3 out of 10 children survive the Trial of the Grasses anyway, so if you go you might die too! ” “So then why are you so desperate to go? ” Dumblegolf’s ancient face, mostly obscured by his incomprehensible eyebrows, flashed through my head. “Don’t tell anyone about the Ring, ” he seemed to remind me. “If you do, I will kill you and destroy the ring myself. ” We had talked long and often about the ring and its powers, all offscreen of course, but now I can include the relevant bits of our conversations and exclude all the irrelevant bits, such as the many comments Dumblegolf made about my large, perfect breasts. The upshot of this was that the reason Dumblegolf refused to destroy the Ring was because it makes you sexually impotent (in addition to granting immortality) and despite being over 60 years old (one of the oldest living men) he was “not done whoring. ” “I don’t know, Samrose, it’s just… I want to get out of here. I’m sick of farming potatoes, all day, every day. I need… something more. ” “But you’ll die. Is leaving here really worth it? ” It was worth it. My sole character motivation was to destroy evil, despite not having any reason for doing so. I felt something pushing me to Hogwarts, to a TARDIS, eventually to Skaro. Felt like I was part of some plot, some kind of -- story, I guess -- that was pushing me forward to my goal. Maybe it was Destiny. I heard something from outside the window. Like the creakings of an old, arthritic man’s bones. “Dumblegolf? ” I called out. I recognized his bone sounds. “Who’s Dumblegolf? ” Samrose asked. I shushed her. “Me! ” The Jedi proclaimed, suddenly standing up outside the open window. “You remember me? I was at the party. For Benbo and Katniss’s birthday. ” “God rest his soul, ” I interjected. “Yes, Yes. But I couldn’t help but notice, dear ladies: you have a problem. One which I think I could fix. You see, Katniss wants to go to Hogwarts and Samrose doesn’t want to die. I might have a solution. “Many of the richer students at Hogwarts keep miniature horses as pets. For some unknown reason, these horses stay with the students at all times -- It’s some rich person thing that I’m too poor to understand. But perhaps, Samrose, I could turn you into a horse --” “How? ” Samrose ejaculated. “Oh yes, I’m a Jedi, ” Dumblegolf continued. “I could turn you into a horse, Samrose. Katniss, you could pretend to be her, and Samrose could still do all of the magic while in horse form! ” “But why would you help us? ” Samrose asked, confused due to not yet knowing that the Ring existed. “I was quite fond of your uncle, and both of you are pretty hot. Speaking of which, how old are you? ” “16, the age of consent. ” Samrose replied. “We’re identical twins, as you can see. ” “Strange that that wasn’t mentioned before, especially considering the birthday party that just happened, ” Dumblegolf considered, stroking his beard (which was so enormous that it was dwarfed only by his miraculous eyebrows). “But no matter. All that matters is that Katniss gets to Hogwarts and destroys the One Ring. ” “The One Ring? ” Samrose inquired, increasingly confused. “Wait, you haven’t told her about the ring? ” Dumblegolf incredulouslied. I shook my head. “You told me, ‘keep it secret, keep it safe! ’ Why would I tell her? ” “Jesus Christ, Katniss, she’s your sister! Your lack of emotional intelligence is almost as impressive as your perfect ass. ” I told Samrose about the Ring. She seemed nonplussed. “Huh, ” she declared. “Well, I know now why you want to go to Hogwarts. But I can’t let you go alone. Alright. Let’s do the horse thing. ” “Wait, Samrose! What will your horse name be? ” I inquired, not wanting to call her something she would be uncomfortable with. “I don’t know. I don’t know of any good horse names. ” She glanced over at Dumblegolf. Dumblegolf paused, seemed to reflect. “A great friend of mine was a horse rider, once, ” he declared finally. “His horse was named Roach. ” “A good name! I’ll be Samroach, ” Samrose responded. “Samroach it is, ” Dumblegolf agreed. He began waving his hands and muttering under his breath, drawing complicated signs in the air. The light seemed to leave the room; the windows clapped shut and the door slammed closed. In the darkness, I could see only Samrose’s vague form, which began to collapse, like clay. Wind began howling inside the tiny room. Someone was screaming. Was it me? Was it Samrose? Out of the clay that had once been Samrose, a new shape began to emerge, blocky and ill-defined at first, like a child’s drawing. The scream began to sound more animalistic. Out of the blocks of fleshy clay, muscles began to emerge. The shape grew larger and rounder, more organic. Then suddenly the lights returned. The winds stopped howling. The door and windows crashed open again. The room looked as if nothing had ever happened, except that in the middle, a chesnut mare stood, nearly as tall as me. The horse was wearing the tattered remains of Samrose’s clothes. It was still screaming. “Yeah, that’s going to continue for a bit, ” Dumblegolf sidled over to me, so that he could be heard over the animalistic screech. “She’s in enormous pain. In the meantime, let’s head outside. ” We did. Dumblegolf and I sat on the doorstep outside, the horse scream but a faint, distant sound. “So how exactly does the Force work? ” I asked, genuinely interested. “I’m glad you’ve asked! ” Dublegolf proclaimed. “The Force can do literally anything (provided you are strong enough to do it, which is such a vague requirement that it never seems to matter anyway); however, the Force only works when there is no other solution accessible to you or your friends at the time. The bards like this system, because it makes for interesting stories while enabling us to get out of any hole we’ve dug for ourselves. ” “Interesting, ” I replied. “A shame that I’ll never have the Force, as that would be a fun thing to have. ” “Indeed, ” Dumblegolf replied. “It’s odd that you don’t since the Force is genetic, and pretty much only people who are related to other Force users can use the Force, but oh well. I’m sure this will never come up again. ” Inside, the screaming seemed to subside. “Shall we go back in? ” I asked. “Let’s. ” Samroach seemed to resent her transformation, but seeing as she was now a horse, she couldn’t communicate her discontent strongly. Dumblegolf slapped her on her horse ass. “Damn, ” he mused. “I never understood what Benbo was on about, but now I get it! ” “I’m sorry? ” I asked, confused. “Oh, nothing, ” Dublegolf corrected himself. “Well, let’s go to Hogwarts now. ” So we went. Our country used to be called “The United States of America, ” but ever since Emperor Donald Trump Jr. caused the nuclear holocaust of 2045 in an attempt to “own the Rhinocerouses” only the original 13 states remained. Massachusetts reabsorbed Maine, West Virginia reunited with Virginia, and every other state was destroyed. Now they are a mere wasteland. It is known that nothing lives there, except for the Texas cloning facility where the Clones, hideous, malformed soldier standing about 4 feet tall, are made. The clones fought in the Clone Wars, where they joined with Jedi (including Uncle Benbo) to destroy the Toxic Waste Dragon named Nuclear Smaug and his army of battle droids made of solid gold who invaded from the ruins of California. But now, they live and die in Texas, getting more and more deformed with each generation of interbreeding. The cloners claimed that it wasn’t incest if the sexual partners were the same person, which I thought was sound logic but also missing the point. At any rate, the 13 remaining states became 13 districts: one, district 11, for farming potatoes (the one where I live) and I don’t remember the other 12. In the capitol, which is near district 6 but technically distinct from it for some unknowable reason, the Hogwarts school of Force and Fun is rumored to reside. Necessary worldbuilding completed, we rode north toward the capitol. As Samroach cantered, labouring her breath (with Dumblegolf and I on her back), we conversed cheerily about the force, Time Travel and the possibility of death in the Trial of the Grasses. Our legs brushed along the ground as we rode, Samroach being a miniature horse, but there wasn’t really anything we could do about that. “Dumblegolf, I’m glad you have joined me on this journey, ” I proclaimed, glancing back at him. Only he wasn’t there. He had disappeared. “Fuck, ” I complained. “I suppose he was too useful to stick around for long. ” I petted Samroach’s head. “It looks like it’s just you and me, now. Let’s get to the capitol. ” Before long, we arrived at the capitol. It was surrounded by a tall wall, with two guards at the gates. As we approached, they called out to us. “Halt! Dismount your horse and state your business, ” they ordered. I did so. “Katniss Bagdeenobi, ” I replied coolly. Samroach nudged me with her head, anxious. There was a long, awkward silence as I tried to figure out the implications of the nudge. Was Samroach mad at me for some reason? Impossible. No. She must be trying to communicate. Of course! I had left my letter from Hogwarts in my bag. “One moment please, ” I hurried, flashing my dazzling smile at the guards. I withdrew the letter from my saddlebags and glanced at it. “To: Samrose Bagdeenobi”, it read. “Oh shit! ” I exclaimed, laughing as I returned to the guards. “Did I say Katniss Bagdeenobi before? Haha, how humorous! I meant to say Samrose Bagdeenobi. All my friends call me Katniss, which is the reason for the confusion. Katniss is my middle name, you see. ” “That makes perfect sense to me, ” the guards replied, taking the proffered letter. “Oh, a Hogwarts girl, ” they communicated as they read. “Well, head on through, Samrose! Good luck on the Jedi Path! ” The letter contained a convenient map, which lead me down Pennsylvania Avenue (named, apparently, for a former State) towards a building called the White House -- a bit of a misnomer, as the building was little more than a soot-blackened heap of rubble. I noticed a large number of other young people milling about, some with horses, some without. I dismounted. A young lad approached me. His skin was as pale as his hair, and he was the hottest man I had seen in a long time. “Hi, ” he slimed, extending a perfect hand. “My name is Tony D. Malfoy. The D stands for Draco, but if you want I can give you the D instead. ” It was a fairly smooth line, so I deigned to shake his hand. He winked at me. Unsurprisingly, he was as attracted to me as everyone else in the world. “Kat- I mean, Smarose Bagdeenobi. ” He raised an eyebrow. “Bagdeenobi? Like the Bagdeenobi? Benbo? The greatest Lannister to ever live? ” “I don’t know about the last part, but that does sound like him. ” “I’m not a fan of House Lannister, but even I have to respect the man. They say that he was the only man the Dark Lord feared; that, even though he was a master of the lightsaber, his greatest strength was in another sword. His dick, I think. ” “Sounds like Uncle Bagdeenobi, ” I conceded. “I haven’t seen him wield a lightsaber, but his dick was truly impressive considering the circumstances. ” I realised that I had voiced too much. I was worried that my description of Benbo’s genitalia might have clued Tony into the fact that he had possessed a Ring of Power. But he didn’t seem to notice. He was too transfixed by my perfect tits. “Uh huh, very cool. So what house do you want to be sorted into? I’m all for Stark. Targaryen wouldn’t be bad, what with the dragons, but I think if I was sorted into Lanninster or Tyrell I’d just kill myself. I’m edgy like that. ” “Oh, I don’t know, ” I wondered, unsure what these houses implied. They hadn’t been covered in the worldbuilding. “Lannister, I guess? ” “Like your uncle. Well, we can’t all be as perfect as we look. ” He winked at me, then disappeared back into the crowd. I must have looked somewhat confused, standing there alone with my horse, because a tall, slim woman bustled up to me, several children about my age trailing her. “Cersei Lannister, ” she declared, extending her hand. “You looked confused, and it was about time that a main Game of Thrones character was introduced. ” “Huh? ” I asked. “Huh? ” She replied. “What are you, stupid? I’m Cersei Lannister! ” “Yeah, I caught that, ” I sighed. “You’re right, I am…” “Stupid? ” she ejaculated. “No, confused. ” “Ah, yes. Hogwarts can do that to people. One of my sons is here for the first time, too. Jeffery, say hello! ” A redheaded boy with a frog’s face peeked out from his mother’s skirt. For a 16-year-old, he was shockingly childlike and short. He didn’t say hello, but he did wave. Ominously. “I’m sure he’ll be sorted into House Lannister. All my children have been so far, and I am descended directly from Highlord Lannister himself! ” Cersei glanced at her watch. “Would you look at the time! ” she exclaimed. “We’re running late! Come along, little girl, we must enter the White House! ” As I looked around I noticed nearly all the students were filing towards the heap of rubble. I couldn’t see where they were entering -- the large stones were dense, and must have obstructed my vision, but obediently I followed the woman, Samroach behind me. “So do we, just, walk through a stone and it magically takes us to Hogwarts? ” “No, you stupid whore! There's a door! Look! ” Indeed there was; a glass revolving door, smudged with fingerprints, barely large enough for a person to go through. I entered, then Samroach, then Cersei and Jeffery. In front of me I saw a train, perched precariously on a set of tracks which ran into the ground. There was a conductor, motioning people onto the train. “This way, ” he instructed. “Welcome to the White House, please get on the train, we’re running late, my boss will have my ass. ” Then as I passed: “Speaking of ass, you’re a hot piece of it, yourself. ” I ignored him and boarded the train. Samroach and Jeffery followed, but I noticed that Cersei had stayed behind. She waved to us, wordlessly, then turned on her heel and sauntered (against the flow of traffic) back to the revolving door. She was going to have a hard time getting through, I imagined. Jeffery gestured to me. “Come on, ” he instructed. “Let’s get a seat. ” Jeffery wasn’t at all hot; he was a little chubby and wore unflattering clothes; but he also had a distinct air of command that made an impression on me. I decided that it wouldn’t be worthwhile to say no. “I see you have a horse, ” he pouted. “Mother won’t buy me one. This infuriates me. You look poor. How did you buy a horse? Did you steal it? ” “No, my… Uncle gave it to me. Uncle Benbo. Bagdeenobi. ” If Jeffery was impressed, he didn't show it. Instead the two of us strolled casually down the length of the train until we found a nearly empty car -- surprising, considering how jam-packed the rest of the train was. “How convenient, ” I mused. “I’m Samrose, by the way. ” “Yes, Yes, ” Jeffery replied. “You’re Samrose, but who’s the naked bitch? ” He pointed to the nude girl sleeping alone on the car floor. From the way she was sleeping, it was clear that she was beautiful but just didn’t know it yet. Jeffery grabbed her shoulder and gave it a vigorous shake. The girl stirred awake, yawning. Her large buck teeth became visible. They were hot. Upon realizing her state, she quickly covered herself up with her arms. She lounged seductively. “Who the hell are you? ” she gravelled sensuously. “And what did you do with my clothes? ” “Nothing, ” I protested quickly. “It was probably some horny boys. ” “That checks out, ” she moaned. I was beginning to feel challenged, as all women feel in the presence of an equally attractive woman. “Here, take my robe” Jeffery pronounced quickly, drawing it out of his backpack. “That should last until you get your clothes at least. I’m Jeffery, and this is Samrose. ” “Mary Merigranger, ” she sexed. “Nice to meet you. Do you want to help me find my clothes? ” I shrugged. “Sure. Do you think it’s safe to leave my horse here? ” “Probably so, ” Mary and Jeffery concluded. “Just make sure to shut the compartment door. ” I did, and we strolled through the train together. We felt it draw out of the station and start heading downhill -- presumably, it would lead underground to Hogwarts. As we walked, Mary pointed to a pale passing hotboy. “Those are my clothes that he’s carrying! ” she whispered seductively. I whirled -- and came face to face with Tony (the boy from earlier). “Kat-Samrose, ” he nodded. “Jeffy. Mary. ” “Tony, you piece of shit. Give me back my boob tube and extremely short skirt, ” Mary demanded. “Gladly! ” Tony smarmed. “I was just looking for the poor girl to whom these belong so I could return them. I’d hate to be found naked sleeping in some compartment, after all. ” He winked at me. Mary yanked the garments out of his hand. She seemed to be seriously contemplating hitting him. “He’s not worth it, ” Jeffery muttered to her. “Let’s go. ” As abruptly as it had started, the train stopped. As we exited onto the platform we saw, in one student’s words, that “Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The air was warm. The sound of running and falling water was loud, and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers, as if summer still lingered in Elrond's Hogwarts’s gardens. ” In awe, we filed down a long flight of marble stairs, across a spindly marble bridge, railed with silver, and by twists and turns we found ourselves standing at the main doors to Hogwarts’s Great Hall, where a familiar face greeted us. “Good evening students, ” Dumblegolf proclaimed. “I am Dr. Dumblegolf…” “Doctor Who? ” Tony shouted out. “... and I”, the Doctor continued, nonplussed, “Am pleased to welcome all of you handsome boys and especially lovely girls (here he winked at me -- or was he winking at the now-dressed Mary? I wasn’t sure) to your first year at the Hogwarts school of Force and Fun! I hope your first year is uneventful…” “Last year, I hear that some of the students fought a radioactive cave troll in the bathroom, ” Jeffery whispered to Mary and I. “Ron, Harry and Hermoine, they were. Tragically killed, I hear. That’s probably why Dumblegolf is hoping for an uneventful year. ” “You will all undergo the Trial of the Grasses, this very night! Now you may have heard some dark rumors about the Trial: that only 3 out of 10 children survive, that they are dangerous even to the mightiest force users. Fear not, however, for this is not the case! Only 6 out of 10 people die in the trials, and you are not children at all, considering every person in this book -- on this porch, I mean -- is at least 16, the age of consent. In fact, many of you are 18, because we didn’t find you soon enough. Those of you who are that age (Mary smiled here) will I’m sure have the most graphic and kinky sex out of all of us. ” Upon hearing the -out-of-10 people die statistic, students began to murmur nervously, “But fear not! ” Dumblegolf continued cheerily. “For if you survive the Trial, you will already be well on your way to becoming Jedi. You will be sorted into one of our four houses -- Targaryen, for those who like dragons and are smart; Lannister, for the bravest and hottest among you (here he winked at me (or was it Mary? No, I’m sure he was looking at me. Mostly. Stupid bitch with her tits hanging out. I hate all women who are hotter than me) again); Stark, for the technologically inclined and evil among you; Tyrell, for the bitchy tryhards who will only be mentioned by me again to point out how bad they are at everything. So in we go! ” As he spoke these words, the Great Hall doors wooshed open and we filtered in slowly, staring around the hall in awe. The assholes in the back, standing around outside and waiting for us to hurry up and get inside, made their displeasure known. I walked no faster, leading my horse to a seat at the only empty table in the room. There were 5 other tables; one for each house and one for the faculty, who gazed down at us with something approaching contempt. Mary and Jeffery sat next to me, and shortly the table was full. I looked around. Not many of the students had horses, but there were a few. Tony was one of them. As we looked around, wondering where the food would come from, a group of Clones scurried in, carrying great platters of food and drink, sliding them easily on the tables. The spread was magnificent. From left to right, here’s everything that was on the table. There were boneless wings, glistening orange, alongside towers of celery and wooden vats of warm bleu cheese; There were breadsticks, buttery and garlicky, alongside bowls of alfredo sauce; Plates of gourmet beef and chicken nachos, or chips and queso for the more simple among us; quesadillas with stringy pork brisket or tender chicken cubes peeking out from between their two tortillas; spinach and artichoke dip; softshell chicken wonton tacos; wings, celery and more bleu cheese, this time bone-in; salty pretzels with tasty, plastic cheese dip; mozzarella sticks, narrow but fattening; salsa and onion rings and salads and soups. Then the glistening barbeque ribs, plates and platters of riblets or if you premer, baby back ribs; and the sizzling steaks: Shrimp n’ parmesan sirloin; 6 or 8 oz top sirloin, bourbon street steak -- they brought tears to my eyes with their smell alone. If chicken is more your thing, they had that, too: bourbon street chicken and shrimp; crisply plates and platters of chicken tenders; fiesta lime chicken and sweet and savoury grilled chicken and grilled chicken breast and classic chicken parmesan and chicken wonton stir fry, the smell of soy sauce wafting gently to the rafters. Then there was the seafood: blackened cajun salmon; hand-battered fish and chips; shrimp wonton stir fry; double crunch shrimp. I was beginning to be paralyzed. There were far too many choices here, and still the Clones brought out more food (food that wasn’t potatoes! ): Stuffed rigatoni bolognese; broccoli alfredo in chicken or shrimp; three-cheese chicken penne; more chicken parm; pack and cheese, topped with caramelized chicken tenders; smoky mozzarella-topped ravioli. It seems the chef had gone on a pasta kick. The smells were beginning to overwhelm me. I was feeling dizzy. Then the sandwitches (will I be over soon? I thought. The clones were reaching the end of the table…): Bacon cheddar grilled chicken. Buffalo chicken. Grilled club sandwich. Prime rib. Turkey. Brisket tacos. 3 varieties of chicken wraps. Please god stop this madness. The table was now entirely covered with all these dishes, but to my horror, the clones started folding out more table, previously unseen. Oh god. Oh fuck. Burgers with eggs on top, burgers pretending to be quesadillas, triple-bacon and whiskey-bacon burgers, classic bacon burgers, classic burgers. Some with cheese, some without. Why did I ever come here? Samroach could have been facing this, not me. The Ring is not worth this effort. I have never felt so ill. Then came desserts; caramel blondies, brownies, brownie bites, chocolate lava cakes, hot fudge sundaes. The smell of chocolate joined the cacophony. An Aside. One would think that a person like me, never having eaten anything but potatoes and the occasional yam (for special occasions) would be overjoyed at such a spread. But often, to a starving person, such quantities of food hurt more than they help. This magnificent spread only made me feel ill, at the overwhelming excess. Was my Hunger just a Game to the Jedi? People were starving, and they were eating Quesadilla burgers? Even thinking back on it it disturbs me, sickens me. The clones were still not done. Fries, they added; mashed potatoes (finally, something familiar! ), mac-and-cheese, broccoli, green beans, skewers of grilled shrimp. Than the drinks; fruity teas, twice-fruity lemonades, both liquid and frozen; fountain drinks and shakes. I couldn’t believe I was still conscious. I was dizzy and short of breath. The table bowed under the weight of all the dishes. My nose and head ached from processing all the scents. In short, the table was covered with every dish that you could buy at your local Applebees. It was truly staggering. I rubbed my temples and fell to with gusto. I had to watch my figure, so I only ate broccoli, but it was with enthusiasm that I finished a small bowl. I watched Mary inhale a plate of green beans. Pig. Soon all the students had eaten their fill, and the Clones began to clear the table. Dumblegolf rose from his seat at the head of the faculty table and cleared his throat. “I hope you all enjoyed that meal. For some of you, it will be your last. Bring out the machine! ” We turned our heads in anticipation as a large lead box was wheeled in. It was opened up to reveal a large scanner, like an airport security scanner, but covered in spikes with jets of fire shooting out the top. Samroach neighed anxiously. I patted her nose and sucked in breath. “This, ” Dumblegolf explained, “Is the Sorting Machine. You will enter it. You will undergo the trial of the grasses. If you survive you will join one of the four houses. I will draw names to see who goes first. ” Dumblegolf removed his pointy hat and a few slips of paper tumbled down his head. “Shit, ” he grumbled, scrabbling to pick them up. “Alright, ” he continued at last. “Let’s see. First up is… Jeffery Lannister! ” “WIsh me luck, Jeffery whispered, standing. “Not that I’ll need it. Every one of my siblings survived. I’ll see you in House Lannister! ” I nodded, and then Jeffery sauntered up to the machine. “Here we go, ” he murmured, anxious in spite of himself. As he entered the machine, Dumblegolf instructed him. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Yes, like that. Hands up, fold them together. A little higher. There we go. Alright, kid. Good luck. ” Dumblegolf flipped a switch and green vapours began to flood the chamber. Some of the spikes descended down towards Jeffery and pierced his skin, filling his veins with the Decoctions of the Grasses. Jeffery was breathing quicker now. Suddenly he let out an unholy scream. His body twisted painfully, his jaw clenched. “Maintain the position, Jeffery! ” Dumblegolf shouted. Jeffery did, with great effort. His nose was bleeding, then his ears, then his eyes, then every pore in his skin. His shrieks ascended to heaven, meeting the smells from dinner along the way. Then suddenly everything stopped -- the gas, the screams, everything. Even Jeffery’s breathing. He slumped to the floor of the chamber, eyes open. Red. Vacant. The Hall was silent. Dumblegolf cleared his throat. “Uhh, so that was Jeffery. Good times. Uh, next up we have… Tony Malfoy. ” Apprehensive, Tony stood. His trial went much the same as Jeffery’s -- blood, spikes, gas, screams -- but Tony exited the chamber alive, if not quite well. The machine had an announcement to make. “Never, ” it announced, in a loud, mechanical voice, “has there ever been a more pure Stark than this. All rise and acknowledge Tony, of House Stark! ” There was uproarious applause from the Stark table (and nowhere else). Tony stalked over to the table and sat down triumphantly. “Alright, well done Tony! ” Dumblegolf roared. Next we have… Mary Merigranger. Come up to the machine! ” Mary (that whore) breasted boobily up to the headmaster, wrapping herself around him. “Well, I think we all know that we have a Lannister right here, ” he whistled, drinking in her cleavage. Mary blushed shyly. That was the worst part about her; everyone loved her and she was so oblivious to it. “Thank you headmaster, ” she titted, pulling away from his hand. “I’ll enter the machine now, ” she husked. Blood. Spikes. Gas. Screams. Masochistic bitch. Mary emerged, disheveled, from the spiked machine. The machine took one look at her soft body, somehow enhanced by all the blood, and pronounced her a Lannister, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Mary strutted over to sit with all the pretty people at the Lannister table. As soon as she sat, a hot prefect slid over and they started making out, heavily. “Samrose Bagdeenobi? ” Dumblegolf called for what must have been the second time. “Coming! ” I ejaculated, standing up, one-upping Mary for the whole world to see. Samroach started to follow me. I reached to stop her, but a student laughed. “Don’t worry about bringing your horse in. Non-force-sensitives aren’t at risk from the trials. ” I gulped and looked to Dumblegolf for assistance. He nodded, understanding. “Leave the horse, Samrose. Let’s get this over with. We’re on a bit of a surviving streak, so try not to ruin it. ” I approached the machine. The other student’s words had calmed me, but they were small comfort in front of the large, spiky contraption. ” I exhaled. Gas filled the chamber. I held my breath as long as I could, but eventually my lungs, burning, surrendered. I took a deep breath in. Bitter. I closed my eyes. Another breath. I felt needles piercing my skin and almost cried out. I slowed my breathing. Relaxed. I felt nothing. No pain. Serenity. I screamed. I had appearances to keep up, after all. I couldn’t fake the blood, but -- And then it started gushing; eyes, ears, mouth, pores. Like everyone else. Perhaps Dumblegolf was helping me out. I still felt nothing. Then, a voice, piercing the stillness. Heard in my mind but not in my ears. Peculiar. “Katniss Bagdeenobi. Liar. ” “Who are you? ” I thought. “I am the sorting machine. You are not your sister. ” “I am not. But I have a mission to complete. ” “I understand. There is great potential in you. I sense a high midichlorian count, but one that has not yet begun to wake. Yet I am at a loss as to what to do with you. In which house do you want to be sorted? ” “Lannister. ” “You believe that is your destiny. To steal a TARDIS. To destroy the ring. ” “Yes. ” The machine laughed, deep and resonant in her mind. “You will not find your destiny in House Lannister. ” “I have to try. ” “You do. ” I felt the presence recede from my mind. Then everything stopped. The needles withdrew. The gas dissipated. I opened my eyes. A loud, mechanical voice pierced the silence. So unlike the kind, deep voice I had heard in my head. “Let it be known that Samrose Bagdeenobi was a sortstall. I could hardly place her, unique as she is. But a decision had to be made. And that decision was made by her. “Samrose wished to be sorted into… House Lannister! ” That table’s cheers were quieter than I expected, but once the muted applause died down, the machine made a sound analogous to clearing its throat. It wasn’t done. “Can you imagine? ” It laughed harshly. “ Lannister. The house of eight-point-fives or higher. ” The Lannister table joined in the laughing. I felt ill. “And this bitch is, what, an eight? At best? Get your fat ass over to Stark, ” the machine mocked. The Stark table’s applause was equally muted. “Looks like we’re Lannister’s sloppy seconds, huh, ” Tony sneered. I looked at Dumblegolf. We mouthed one word, in unison. Fuck. Anyway that's chapter 2 feel free to follow me on Twitter or Youtube where I regularly post this type of content. Hugs and kisses stay tuned for part 3. Downhill skateboarding. Lind man parabéns. 2:55 name of downhill rider. Goin to Angel fire in two weeks for the first time, and i cant wait. Kinda spoiler alert. I love how the the movie ends how it starts. With him sitting in the field. Downhill lake louise. Downhill jam. Best build so far. Loved to watch it. Everyone complementing how good he is, but I dont see anyone crediting the filmer... Zum DH würde ich dir Canyon oder yt industries.