#patty's giraffe

[mattapparentlystumbltourneys]

Giraffe Girumble - Loser's Bracket 4B

Propaganda below (Recently fumigated for spoilers)

Gracie propaganda:

just look at her. trans queen who loves fashion and is the epitome of be gay, do crimes (illegal parking). she gives the player clothes and will help them out with their style.

Patty's Giraffe Propaganda:

Screw academia! Giraffes!

Tallneck propaganda:

They are beeg frens. Why have normal comm towers in games when you could have what the devs called "comm giraffes."

[cryptic-paw]

Patty Haiku

Happy-go-lucky

Yay! Motivational speech!

Giraffe! Giraffe! Yay!

[crypticpawpoems]

Patty Haiku

Happy-go-lucky

Yay! Motivational speech!

Giraffe! Giraffe! Yay!

--------------------------------

Follow on TikTok @crypticpaw.official

[sepostscreencaps]

Mindblowing Panels from Soul Eater post chapter 9

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Death the Kid (Platonic Scenario - "Death and Dignity")

Warnings: Use of Firearms, Death, Violence, Toxic Mindsets.

Word Count: 4881.

Hour after hour, from the time the sun climbed up the stars to the time it sank below the horizon, with every fanciful stroke of a tired pen, Kid poured onto paper the thoughts that would not leave him.

These thoughts gnawed at his mind like termites at rotten wood, consuming it bit by bit until what once was stable now teetered on the precipice of collapse. This flight of passion was a waking nightmare that haunted his every movement.

His right hand, which clutched the pen as though glued to it, exploded into a fit of shakes after forcing itself to remain stiff for a final sentence. The words that lay before him disgusted him more than the most fetid odour, and with an anguished cry, Kid tore the page free of the notebook.

“It's not good enough!” His yell was dripping with frustration, frustration with himself, the look of the letter and its intended recipient. The noise carried on the silent air of the mansion and shattered the peace of many a slumber.

It rounded corners and slipped underneath closed doors, ushering two pairs of haggard footsteps from a plush bed. Kid was deaf to this series of thumps, for what filled his ears was a combination of mumbles and rustles.

A few strips of paper had been severed from the rest and stuck to the spine while Kid pounded the majority into a ball and hurled it into the metal wastebasket beside the desk. As the wastebasket rattled, Kid slammed his elbows into the flat top of the desk, hunched over in his seat, and cradled his face in his palms.

“Kid?” Liz called, surprise and concern intertwined. “You okay?” She hesitated to ask, fearful of what had dragged such pain from him in the dead of night.

Bare feet brushed stone as Liz took another step towards him, and this one brought her to the foot of the desk. She looked down at the back of Kid's head and leaned forward to get a better view of him.

Kid did not meet her gaze. Perhaps, he had deemed himself unworthy of it, or perhaps, he had not the strength. “If I don't get it right, they'll think I'm garbage.” The misery in his voice told the story of someone who had given up on proving anyone wrong.

Liz saw how many pages were missing from the notebook and how packed the wastebasket was becoming, and she understood how steep the cliff was from which Kid dangled. “No, they won't. Just go with whatever you have left.”

On any of the nights that came before, he went to sleep at the same rigid bedtime. On this night, Liz observed, he quested for something that eluded him.

His eyes were glazed with manic confusion and open wide despite the dark circles surrounding them. His fingers danced across the desk as if it was hot to the touch, finding solace in digging each nail into the wooden surface.

Kid finally blinked after a full minute of staring at the next blank page in the notebook. In a shaky breath that teased the arrival of tears, he whispered, “I can't stop, Liz.”

It was not a declaration of determination or some great desire, but rather, it was a desperate recitation of the fact that he was, at that moment, as he had been at countless others, a slave to his obsessive thoughts.

They looped in his mind without end, threatening devastation if they were ignored and withholding his ability to relax until he wrote a particular string of words exactly as he had imagined them in his head.

Dozens of failed attempts sat in a stack inside the wastebasket.

Patty squatted in front of it with a curious laugh, collected a few balls of paper off the top, and began crafting an origami giraffe. She hummed a merry tune as she smoothed the trash and then folded it into a work of art, which earned a slight smile from her big sister.

Kid, however, was dead to everything but the blank page and the pen in his hand. He moved to quell the thoughts that suffocated him, and Liz grabbed his hand and guided it away from the page.

She frowned at the coldness of his skin and narrowed her eyes at his shallow breaths. “Have you had anything to eat today?”

He looked at her as though it was his first time hearing the word “eat” and was puzzled by its lack of apparent relevancy to his task. As the fact that a world existed outside of writing the letter washed over Kid in a slow wave, he turned his head back to the notebook and mumbled, “No. There was no time for that.”

Patty jumped up and spread herself across the desk, lying on her stomach and kicking the air. She stretched her arms towards Kid and shoved an origami giraffe in his face. “Give them this! Everybody loves giraffes!”

If she had taken a pack of crayons to it, one could have mistaken it for a real baby giraffe.

Kid eyed the origami giraffe and instinctively judged whether slicing it in half would produce equal pieces. A vertical slice would, he deduced, and he accepted it with both hands.

* * *

Kid's house was a castle pulled from a gothic storybook, its walls adorned with tentacled skulls and red spikes, and its grass home to a garden of guillotines. Being in it was like stepping into a different universe, one where each room mirrored itself on opposite sides.

Every red-carpeted staircase footed the traffic of dozens of guests, and all the linen-draped tables threw their candlelit shadows upon the stone floor. The floor had been scrubbed and buffed until no scratch was in sight, as you noticed your reflection on the monochromatic rock.

Peering through one of the arched windows of the aptly named Gallows Mansion yielded the moon-tipped glint of a cast-iron fence, its spear-like bars pointing at the purple sky and spreading from a locked gate.

The music of the student body enjoying a break rang loud over the jazzy piano emitting from a gramophone. Its needle traced the grooves in an old disc, tucked into the corner of the walls bordering the right side of the central staircase.

Doing so much as lifting a piece of food from the lines of prearranged plates seemed a disservice, as if you were sullying a priceless creation meant to be looked at, not touched. The air smelt of salads, turkey legs and mashed potatoes with peas, leaving a zesty bunch of crumbs on everyone's tongue but your own.

Kid bopped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand: “Idiot!” He hissed the word through clenched teeth and pushed his eyes to the floor, his breathing rattled and his once-steady hands curling into fists.

“Of course, they don't like it!” The bite of self-disgust in his voice was potent, but when Kid snuck a glance your way to catch you scanning the other partygoers with boredom, his heart punched his ribcage. “They're not having a good time,” he muttered, “I need to fix this.”

After patting imaginary dust from the clothes he had ironed twice before the party started, Kid took a deep breath through his nose and straightened his posture to the point of stiffness. A stony composure washed over his face and unwound the wrinkles clinging to it.

Kid departed from his group of friends, who were humouring the blue-haired Black☆Star as he stood atop a table and dramatised the events of his latest victory, and only one of them noticed.

The squeak of dress shoes pivoting on the stone floor alerted you to the sight of Kid sliding into the space beside you. He had aligned himself with you, facing the same direction as you and standing at the same distance from the nearest table as you were.

He wore black suspenders over a dark tie and a cedar brown dress shirt, like a classy gent out for a stroll, giving him a muted appearance that would have been easy to overlook in the crowd if not for his half-striped hair.

“I couldn't help but notice that the catering is not to your liking.” Kid recited the line that he had been refining in his head and repeating under his breath on the way over. “Rest assured, the menu will have greatly improved by the next party.”

As he turned to you, his arms came round from behind his back. “In the meantime, please accept this as a token of my apology.”

Kid presented an origami giraffe with the spirit of a chef peeling off the lid of a silver platter. He had closed his eyes, but when his anxieties about somehow grabbing the wrong item sprouted, he reopened them to study the gift in his hands.

“Patty wanted me to give it to you.” He stumbled on the name, as if he had intended to say a different one, but faltered just as the sound came out.

You tucked the giraffe underneath your arm, nodded at him, and offered a smile that Kid had yet to see you bear for any other person. “Tell her it's the finest gift I've ever received.”

Something bloomed on your face, an untroubled excitement that quieted the worries swirling round his mind about whether the dimensions of the paper giraffe were still symmetrical. “I heard about your last assignment!”

It was at that moment that Kid lost himself, his mask of calm slipping to betray unabashed interest. The hunt for maleficent souls had not occurred to him once that night. These villains were as much fair game as a wild hog, yet here he was, fretting about matters that he now wondered if his father would deem trivial.

Your eyes flitted to your pocket, which your free hand dipped inside with a purpose. “It sounds like dangerous work, so I made you this.”

A ringlike shadow flew over Kid, and then a necklace found its place on him. It was symmetrical, just as he would like it to be. It was also homemade, a truth that dawned on him like the first ray of sunshine after a storm.

“It's a good luck charm!” was how you described it, but he was too far gone into a spiral of hopeful theories to register this.

Kid cradled the necklace in the palm of his hand, and he saw the effort you had poured into making it. In that instant, it was a promise, a wish fulfilled, a dream realised.

When he gazed at you again, time had frozen for him. The surrounding chatter about upcoming exams and who had collected how many souls from voices of varying pitches and tones shifted to a similar, insignificant buzz, as did everything else but the rapid beats of his pulse.

His arms began to outstretch towards your face with the awe of someone daring to reach out to something godly. Kid took the sides of your head in his hands, applying a firm yet careful pressure that suggested both the need to admire and the fear of causing ruin.

In a half-breathless whisper, he said, “Of all the souls I've seen, yours possesses symmetry unparalleled.”

It was the type of compliment one might expect to hear while dancing under glittering chandeliers on the marble floor of a ballroom, intimate yet formal. From the mouth of a god who personally folded the tips of every roll of toilet paper in his mansion into triangles and abandoned missions to centre the painting in his living room, it was the type of compliment that had you walking with your head held high.

A wine glass full of apple cider hit the floor and shattered against the stone.

Kid recoiled as if he had been slugged in the gut, a twitch invading his eye while his face warped into a look of pure horror. The shattering of the glass was a high-pitched explosion that clawed his brain, which overflowed with images of the apple cider tainting his spotless floor.

When Kid thrust his head towards the source of the disaster, his gaze met that of Liz, who was standing in front of a nearby table with Patty.

He stormed to her table and arched his back, careful not to step in the orangish puddle of drink and broken glass. “Liz! How could you? Do you have any idea how long it takes to make this floor sparkle?” The words gushed out of his mouth like a waterfall, not stopping to breathe or allow for another's response.

As his agitated rant about needing to scrub the room again rolled over her ears, Liz raised her arm and rubbed the back of her head with a forced chuckle. “Whoops! Guess I'm a little clumsy tonight.”

Patty skipped after her big sister, only to pause and set her mouth agape when she took a peek at you. “Huh?” She tilted her head and leaned towards you with her hands sticking outwards.

“Hey!” shouted Patty, drawing the short word into a lengthy stretch of surprise that pulled joy at her lips. “You're who Kid's always talking about!”

Kid caught his breath mid-sentence, and he veered towards her as panic etched itself across his face. “Patty!” His sheepish outcry reverberated through the atrium and gathered the attention of various partygoers, who disregarded their previous conversations and proceeded to rubberneck.

She turned to him and cocked her head with an innocent hum. “What is it, Kid?”

He dashed behind her and began pushing her back to the table where Black☆Star was devouring his third dish. Patty did not resist, merely staring over her shoulder at him.

As soon as you were out of his sight, the repetitive thoughts returned to swarm his mind like flies flocking to the smell of carrion.

* * *

From the moment that it was flung over his head to the moment that he walked the streets of Death City on this overcast twilight, Kid had not removed the necklace for any reason for even a second.

He kept it near his heart, circling his spearpoint collar and framing his skull brooch of pure metal as if his heart would cease to beat without it.

Liz had glimpsed him cleaning it and polishing it when he thought he was alone, and on three separate occasions, she had questioned him about his preoccupation. “I don't know what you're talking about,” Kid always replied, eyes half-closed with disinterest and tone one of steely resolve. “I'm simply caring for a friend's gift.”

He was chasing a fantasy, and it seemed that everyone except him knew that. Every few minutes, he reached for the necklace and touched it, holding it for a bit to confirm that it had not disappeared since the last time he checked.

Shimmers of a napping sun poked through the cloud bank and dappled the cobblestone road ahead. The rhythm of his footsteps, a deliberate pattern of Kid counting the number of brown and grey stones, was broken by a scream.

It was the scream of glass as it shattered into a downpour of shards jumping on the street, and it dotted the cobblestones where Kid would have rested his feet if not for the hulking man blocking his path.

His mask was akin to the head of a devil, with bicorn ears and a drill-like nose. It glared down at Kid from under the rows and rows of fluorescent lights spewing out of adjacent buildings.

He had donned the red spandex and yellow cape of a superhero from the comic books of yore, but the sack he lugged over his shoulder was brimming with gold bars.

The surprise that had opened Kid's eyes and mouth wide died away with a surge of opportunistic confidence. “You evaded me once, Lupin. I can assure you it will not happen again.” He extended one arm to Patty and the other to Liz, prompting them to exchange brief nods.

The sisters vanished into beams of pinkish-white light, and there in his hands materialised a pair of silver Beretta M9s. Kid held them upside down and crossed his outstretched arms into an X-shape, with his pinkies hooked on the triggers.

“You think I'll just stand here and take it?” was all Lupin bothered to say before his free hand scooped a wooden handle out of his boot.

No sooner than Kid saw the glint of a dagger did he yank the pistols towards his face and form a protective barrier of steel and tailored sleeves.

The blade was so swift and the cut so clean that he was scarcely aware of where it had struck. His ignorance persevered until the glimmer of something caught his eye as it was split in twain and ripped from its home about his neck, and the answer drove a graver pain into him than the sharpest spear.

The necklace, a sliver of yourself that you had so graciously bestowed on Kid, lay battered at his feet.

The shock lasted only for as long as it took him to stumble backwards and regain his footing. He had enjoyed the gift so much that it became indestructible in his mind, and to see it reduced to what a passer-by would call garbage was the most dastardly of transgressions.

It was then that the pang of sorrow, which paralysed him like a snake's venom, bled into a frenzy that shook his heart and twisted his innards into knots. A lonely kind of fear crept up his spine, the kind that saw isolation in crowds and focused on every detail of imperfection.

The slice had been at an angle, dooming one piece to be longer than the other. That cretin, Kid thought, had not the decency to damage it symmetrically. By robbing the necklace of its symmetry, he spat on your hard work and perverted his connection to you.

Thuds of boots on stone approached him in a flurry, and Kid spun his head towards the noise to see Lupin rearing his dagger in preparation for another swing. Kid drew his twin pistols before Lupin could do him any more harm and, at point-blank range, planted two shots in his chest.

“You wretched pig!” Kid bellowed vitriol with the ferocity of a vindictive god, and during that momentary surrender to his darker impulses, that was what he had become.

He pulled the triggers again and again as quickly as they reset. The flashes of light were brilliant and tinged with pink, an oblique hail of his very soul.

To Lupin, who it blew to the ground, and the dagger knocked free of his grasp, it was inescapable like the claws of fate reaching down to take a swipe at him.

The barrage of shots had mangled the body beyond recognition, yet Kid fired at it still. He unloaded his virtually infinite magazine until the bones turned to powder and the cobblestone was chock-full of holes.

His hold on the pistols' grips was ironclad enough to crush a windpipe, a fact that unnerved Liz into shouting through the din, “Kid! You can stop now!”

The shadow of Kid stretched far as he loomed over the dead Lupin. His teeth, clenched until aching, glistened with spit while sweat traced the sides of his head. The incessant twitch in the corners of his lips complemented the wrathful look in his eye, the look of vengeance outpouring.

When the flood of bangs ended, the air, so thick with tension, begged for an encore. Kid swung his arms downward in a manner both snappy and rigid. Trails of smoke wafted from the barrels of the pistols, hissing and crackling.

The chipper, excitable voice of Patty rang out in the coming silence. “Woah! He's got spooky eyes!” Like a child to whom death was a game, she laughed.

As Kid turned back to the necklace and softened his scowl, the rage that had consumed him faded into hollow depths. In its place, a sense of shame swept over him like wind over dunes.

Kid dropped his weapons at once and fell to his knees. The sound of the pistols clattering to either side of his feet, as well as the immediate protests from Liz, went unheard.

For a while, all he could do was stare at the ruined necklace as if at the burial of a dear friend. Terror squeezed his stomach and seized all warmth from him, the anguish about what you might think of his failure to protect your gift, about a mistake that you may believe was intentional or evocative of his shortcomings.

When Kid retrieved the necklace, it was a heap of pieces that would never be whole again. His lips began to quiver, and he became misty-eyed.

He kept pushing the broken ends together, whimpering like a kicked dog when nothing stopped him from pulling them apart as effortlessly as he breathed.

Tears dripped from his eyes and plopped on the skin of his hands in streaks that rolled down the base of his thumbs. Some dangled there on the edges of his fingers, while others plummeted to the cobblestone and stained it with dark spots.

A shudder had begun to invade his body as if a cold wind was blowing through the room that only touched him. His hands closed around the remains of the necklace until his fists could be no tighter, and then Kid slumped in defeat.

“They entrusted me with this.” His voice rose from a desolate whisper to a high-pitched lament that threatened to crack under the tears straining his throat. “And I failed them.”

Even with the towering shape of the DWMA on the horizon, you had never seemed farther away from him than you did now.

Liz looked on, arms akimbo and eyes crinkled in suspense, and debated whether to console him or chastise him.

Patty raised one finger to her chin and observed his woe with a wide-eyed, curious gaze. She had parted her lips slightly, and a howl of laughter was bubbling on them.

“I don't deserve to live anymore,” cried Kid. He pressed his fists against his temples as if his brain was throbbing and wept into the dimly lit expanse of the deserted street.

Liz sighed through her nose and turned to Patty, who bent forward from cackling and slapping her knee. “Come on, Patty.”

The instant she said this, the two sisters knelt at Kid's side. Patty slammed her palm into his back time after time as if she were performing some crude version of the Heimlich maneuver on him. “You gave them a giraffe, so there's no way they can hate you now!”

Liz set her wary eye upon the scattered remains of Lupin, upon that display of a life ended in seconds with barely any trail to prove that it had existed. “Kid, we should tell your dad.”

His head snapped up, and the outflow of tears paused. “Yes,” he mumbled, “yes, you're right.” Kid stuffed each piece of the necklace into his pocket and then rushed away from the skeleton, lifting both hands to his collar and straightening it.

He banished all distress from his countenance and shut his eyes. When they opened, the back of his hands lay sideways against his lapels. He twisted his wrists and curled his fingers before extending his arms frontwards, tucking his middle and ring fingers into his palms while splaying his thumbs, index fingers and pinkies.

Orbs of violet light expanded at his fingertips and enveloped his hands in a sizzling, sparking glow that shot forth onto the cobblestone. It exploded in a ball of purple fire like a comet's tail and, with searing heat whipping the hem of Kid's uniform, branded the face of Death into the ground.

The brilliance of the flames shone across every speck of wall and window in the street. Disembodied souls of the dead emerged from Kid as strips of darkness silhouetted against this light, their ghostly shapes bobbing and pulling away from him with expressions of permanent terror.

The trio of holes that acted as Death's eyes and nose touched the reddish sky in blazing cylinders of light, and an angular figure cloaked in black appeared in the upward wind that followed.

Death, God to many and Dad to few, looked back at Kid through the same white mask that had rendered him unreadable in the days of early childhood. Even with eyes that judged the souls of all living beings, Kid could only guess his father's emotions until he talked.

“Hiya, Kiddo! Learn anything new?” He spoke with the goofy voice and exaggerated mannerisms of a cartoon character from the black-and-white era of television.

As he maintained heavy eye contact with his father, Kid resembled a statue carved out of stone so that it may never shed a tear. He stood erect, his dry tone betraying a hint of disdain. “You can scratch one name off your list.”

From her spot just beyond a car's length behind him, Liz stood beside her sister and squinted at Kid. Patty was still finding amusement in how funny Lupin's skull looked with no jaw bone and only half a cranium, while Liz struggled to parse the venom that laced Kid's words.

Death leaned towards Kid to the point where his mask was all that was visible, turning his head so that one eyehole was nearer to Kid than the other. “Oh? And which one would that be?”

Kid was conscious of his red-rimmed eyes, but he forced his lips into a straight line and smothered the urge to contort his face and resume crying. Instead, a hateful coldness flowed into his pronunciation of the name that he spat from his tongue as if it were a piece of rotten food. “Lupin.”

“Ah, can't say I'm sad to see him go!” chuckled Death, shrugging and retreating to his former position. “He must've gotten lazy after last time!” He bounced as he said this and stuck out his arms with palms upturned.

On his hands were oversize gloves, the bulky and puffy variety that devoted sports fans jiggled in support of their favourite teams. No part of Death's natural form was exposed, all of it concealed under cloth and mask.

Kid allowed his eyes to narrow and his brows to furrow. He delayed blinking, fearing that the movement would encourage another tear to fall. “Yes, I'd rather not be reminded of my past failures.”

Death settled down enough to take a closer look at his son and indulged in what he considered to be harmless curiosity, but his next question struck Kid like a lightning bolt. “Say, Kiddo. Where's that necklace you've been wearing?”

* * *

Long after the corridors of the DWMA had darkened with nightfall, life stayed under the flickers of sconces to prepare the school for tomorrow.

The door to the infirmary creaked open, and a stream of moonlight gloated over the pair of black shoes that trudged across the tile floor.

It startled you from where you had been changing the sheets on a bloodstained bed. “Kid? What are you still doing here?”

Kid emptied his pocketful of broken pieces onto the end of the bed. He turned his gaze sideways and clenched his jaw, refusing to look you in the eye. “A Grim Reaper worth respecting wouldn't make such a grievous error.”

You nearly failed to recognise what the pieces once were, but when the realisation loosened your grip on the sheets until they clumped near the pillow, you slunk towards him.

Kid collapsed into a sitting position, with his knees folded on opposite sides of him and his toes pointing at the walls. “You have every right to wish ill on me.”

He bowed his head so that his hair obscured his eyes, which had lost much of their natural glow in favour of a tearful sheen. He condensed the emotion that had been running rampant in his voice moments earlier into a whisper. “But my life would be worthless if you cut me from yours.”

You crouched to his eye level and brought your hands onto his shoulders with a tentative slowness. “We're friends, aren't we?” Hesitation littered the “aren't we” part of the statement as if you were deep in foreign territory and searching for validation. “One broken necklace won't change that.”

The crescent moon jiggled with a resonant laugh, and as Kid sat there wondering what sort of angel you must have been to forgive him, his shoulders rose with a newfound lightness.

You almost took your hands back when he gripped one in each of his own, holding them up at equal heights like a knight pledging himself to his new liege. “I will never let you down again.” His stare became unwavering on the word “never” as though it were the most certain thing in the universe.

Kid sprung from the ground at such an impressive speed that he dragged you with him and went airborne for a split second. His next footstep was brisk, no more than a lurch, and brought him far closer to you than was necessary to make his words heard.

“This I swear on my life.”

[fandomregression]

Can you do headcanons for little Martin Blackwood?

Age Regressor Martin Blackwood Headcanons!

martin is Baby

he is Tiney

such a tiny baby and everyone loves him

martin learns that he regresses when hes still a teenager, but he keeps that secret all the way to his time in the archives. he knows when hes about to slip, and he finds a way to excuse himself and go be alone

he hates being alone, and he wants someone to take care of him, but he can't dare ask someone to do that. it just isn't fair! martin's always the one to take care of others, so they shouldn't have to worry about him!! but he needs the love and affection so badly...

sasha and tim already take care of jon, so it doesn't take them very long to figure out Something Tiney is happening with martin. he chews constantly, be it pens or his fingers or his shirt collar, doesn't matter. he goes quiet for long stretches of time. he gets this far away look in his eyes, and this sweet look about him when he does, but he always snaps out of it and looks surprised when he does

sasha and tim start experimenting, just to see if their suspicions are correct. they'll get his tea for him, they'll give him praise on his notes, they'll play disney songs on the stereo, and a few times tim even got him some stickers just to see what he'd do

(martin covered his desk in stickers)

after a while, sasha and tim are positive that they've got another regressor on their hands. they ask him about it, and at first martin denies it like crazy. but he does give in and explain yes, he regresses, but they super don't need to worry about him!! hes okay on his own!!!

they invite him over to hang out one evening (after explaining to jon, who is now a bit pouty and grumpy that his cgs are gonna make him share. the horror) and the four of them have dinner, hang out and watch tv, until martin gets sleepy

the thing with martin is when he gets sleepy, he starts feeling tiny. so he gets shy, and he tries to make himself as small as possible in the corner of the sofa. sasha notices, and she coaxes him out of the corner for cuddles. this squarely lands him in the 'fully regressed' category, and martin ends up with his thumb in his mouth, rubbing his eyes, and sleepily watching cartoons

it takes several times for martin to start really getting comfy with the idea of regressing with others, but once hes comfy he becomes the most spoiled baby

martin already has toys and things that he likes, like a taggy blankie, a crinkle book, a rattle, and a rubber chewy giraffe. he also has a stuffed highland cow named brownie who he HAS to have in order to sleep (brownie goes everywhere with him!!) and he has a plain cream colored paci

with tim and sasha, martin learns all the cutest things that make him feel even littler than anything he could do alone. tim holds his hand up and down stairs, across the street, or in stores so he doesnt get lost (he does this with jon too). sasha plays games like patty cake and peekaboo, and she reads lots of stories with him

martin is a fussy eater when hes small. when hes big, he'll eat just about anything, and he'll try anything once if it smells nice. but when hes small, food can be overwhelming, so he really likes simple things. lots of buttered noodles, plain chicken nuggets, and apple sauce pouches. apple sauce pouches are a life saver, really, he loves them so much

he also really likes getting bottles, and he likes when one of his cgs gives him his bottle. it makes him feel positively tiny, and it makes him feel very very safe and loved (esp warm vanilla milk!)

since he tends to lose his words, martin knows some baby sign language. it helps make sure his needs are being met, and the praise his cgs give him for asking for things makes him so happy

he doesnt like loud noises, so storms and things scare him very badly. he'll hide under covers until tim comes to rescue him

tim is dada, and sasha is mama (of course)

when hes big enough, martin likes to help them however he can. he'll dust the furniture, sweep the floors, or mix batter for baking to feel helpful. sasha and tim will praise him for a job well done, and he gets rewards like milkshakes or a new toy

loves loves loves warm baths. he loves bath bombs more than bubbles, especially pretty glittery ones with swirly colors. he has bath crayons and duckies and a little boat, and bath time is just so relaxing for him

charlie and lola >>>>>

he doesnt like high energy shows or movies, he likes nice and calm cartoons

i feel like he collects sylvanian families. and he has a playhouse for them. he takes such good care of them and has never lost a piece for any of them

this boy has an Aesthetic, and if he could ever figure out how to make sure he could surround himself in only his aesthetic, he would be the happiest baby on the planet

i've been reading lotsa lil martin recently so hes on my mIND thank u for this ask sgksgmafjagn hope u enjoy 🤲

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Girls Group 1 Round 2 Match 9

SUBMISSION PROPAGANDA:

Patty -

"she has no idea what a social queue is. she asks any question she wants at any time without any regard for other. she seems childish in her personality and hobbies but when you actually see her in action she is genuinely really talented as a fighter and much smarter than she appears. She's described as having terrible form when shooting, but i becomes very evident that she knows what she's doing once her teacher realizes she is hitting every shot. Her voice never really shows any change in emotion. except instead of it being monotone like you would expect, its just consistently overjoyed. she's probably also adhd so wooo audhd. She can also be seen as insensitive at times but she never really means anything by it. Also one time when she had to take the most important test of her life she literally colored on it with crayons and turned it into a origami giraffe. and if i remember correctly she didn't get a zero because "it was a good giraffe". It is also implied her bubbly personality may be a mask since when she is serious she changes completely. She grew up poor and on the streets with her older sister so they turned to crime to survive."

Asa -

"Most memorably, in preparation for an aquarium date she spent the night before doing intense research on aquatic life so she could info-dump to her date ("He should be falling for me around now. Even the aquarium employees couldn't give explanations this interesting.") She's also a picky eater to the extent where she nearly starved herself to death because the only available food was fish."

[dreaming-wavelength]

Day 13 - Alternate Universe

Prompts by @rennikun

Remember when I did a poll to see which of the girls would be the best magical girl and Patty won? Yes, I still think about it. I created a few things for it. A title, her transformation item and a magical fairy giraffe?

[ace-up-your-sleeve]

My Beanie Baby Collection

left to right on the top shelf is the 2006 and 2008 mothers day bears, kisses the hershey kiss dog, freckles the leopard, dotty the dalmation, twigs the giraffe (mcdonalds toy)

the second shelf is kooky the cat, inch the worm, claude the crab, and topper the giraffe

the third shelf is inch the worm and patti the platypus (who i renamed rupert) (both are mcdonalds toys) romance the bear, happy the hippopotamus, lips the fish, strut the rooster, and kuku the cockatoo

the bottom shelf is coral the fish (renamed sherbet), kissme the bear, and teddy the old-faced bear, all of them are beanie buddies

edit: my new beanie baby blog is @beanie-buddy-boy

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

Soul Eater characters’ search history

Soul Eater

How to cheat without getting caught

Cramming techniques

Jobs that don’t require an education

Why is my roommate yelling at me flowchart

Maka 

How to get rid of a cat

Studying hacks for intense memorization

How to disown father

Can cats eat chocolate

Chocolate chip cookie recipe

Blair

Who let the dogs out

Chocolate chips or raisins 

Recipes with pumpkin

Death the Kid

Symmetrical architecture

Satisfying organization videos

The most permanent hair dye black

Liz 

Calming techniques NOT deep breaths

Ways to boost your confidence

Why is symmetry so important

How to kill but also not kill a man

How to calm a bitch down

Patty 

How to ride a giraffe

How long is a lifetime ban from the zoo

How to conjure a ghost

Where to buy a ouija board

How to exorcize a ghost

Black Star

how strong is God

wait how many gods are there

My mom wants to know if God will let me into heaven if I defeat Them

Tryouts for American Ninja Warrior

Tsubaki

How to meditate in a chaotic atmosphere

Can God be bribed to admit defeat (more as a joke in frustration. She supports Black Star, but the poor girl is Tired ™ )

Do teacher’s lie in their exam questions

How to get 8 hours of sleep when your roommate is constantly screaming

[mattapparentlystumbltourneys]

Giraffe Girumble - Round 2 - D

Propaganda below (May contain spoilers!)

Patty's Giraffe Propaganda:

Screw academia! Giraffes!

Kirin/ The Giraffe Propaganda:

Voiced by Kenjiro Tsuda, he oversees the lesbian drama student tournament arc that makes up the plot of the anime.

Probably one of the Giraffes in fiction Ever

Wakarimasu...

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Invisibility vs Visibility

Theory Time!

A shorter theory because brain is low on braincells. Enjoy :D

Edit: haha, nope. Not short. It is, in fact, very long. Biggo post. Extra long motherf*cker. Giraffe-long theory we've got here.

Disclaimer: I am referring to the character Thomas Sanders, not the real person. I may make reference to the real person for a few different things, but the main one I will be discussing is the character.

Trigger/Content Warning: discussion of morals/morality, religious themes, discussion of intrusive thoughts, brief discussion of self-harm & grief/death

[Masterlist]

Thinking about the 5 Years Anniversary video, and how Remus mentions whispering the whole 'bubblegum shrimp' thing to Roman in his sleep. Then, I thought about how in Remus' introductory video (DWIT), there's the sticky note that says "Aunt Patty Naked" in the background. I remember how Roman had said the whole 'Aunt Patty Naked' thing in a previous video.

Which got me thinking: what if some of Roman's weirder outbursts were from Remus' influence?

And that got me thinking: but how would he be able to whisper things like that during a video? And before his introduction??

One answer: twin telepathy, which would be both funny and fun to mess around with as a fanfic writer.

However, I thought of something else.

What if the Sides had an Invisibility side effect?

I'll explain.

===

A. Imaginary Characters

The Sides are all imaginary characters, made of Thomas' psyche to better help him through dilemmas. They're all aware of being technically-real-but-also-not-real people. Metaphysical, as Logan might say.

They're just parts of Thomas, given specific roles to what they represent. Originating from Vine characters and turned into their own personas, sans Remus and Janus. They're fictional. They are aware of them not being entirely real, to some degree (the dark Sides moreso as they constantly break the fourth wall).

So, how would the imaginary appear on screen as if they were real?

Ignoring the fact that they're fictional and played by Thomas himself. We're focusing entirely on the Sanders Sides canonverse/Sanders Sides universe.

Anyway: they appear on screen like real people because it's Thomas' knowledge and awareness of them. They're Thomas' Sides. They're as real to him as the parts of his personality they're based on. It's his psyche, his imagination, his characters. As long as Thomas is aware of them, they appear on screen and become somewhat real (in the SaSi universe).

To prove my point: remember the first and only three Sides we saw visibly for the first two episodes?

Logan (Logic, Sense of Reason), Roman (Creativity, Passion, Ego), and Patton (Morality, Emotions/the Heart).

The "light" Sides, as they're called.

Why are they the only three on screen? Because Thomas is aware of them and already knows about them.

Just because the Others aren't seen doesn't mean they aren't there.

They're just not known to Thomas yet, sans maybe Virgil.

(he's a special case; you'll see what I mean a little later into the post)

-=-=-=-=-

B. The Lights & Being Visible

The Lights: Logan, Patton, Roman

Thomas knows these three the most out of the six of them. The Lights are the ones in the forefront of his mind, in the 'spotlight'. They're the ones labelled as 'welcomed' and 'good'.

Logic and Sense of Reasoning? Humans have Logic instilled in them since the beginning of their creation. Logic isn't just intellect and smarts, it's literally what helps the brain most when functioning a human being. It's something so physical that it'll never go away. It cannot fade away. It's there to stay.

That being said, it's still a part of personalities because it's also intellect and smarts. It's also Common Sense. It's Learning and Wisdom and all that entails.

Thomas is a very smart individual. He's neurodivergent (irl Thomas literally has ADHD and made a whole video about it). Neurodivergents (NDs) tend to have a higher intelligence. So yeah, Thomas is very intelligent and curious. He depends on his Logic for a whole sh*t-ton of things. He's used to Logan, his Logic.

Morality and Emotions/the Heart? Morals are such an important part of humans and their values. Emotions are something we can't always control. Our Heart and Morality goes hand in hand. Our morals can shape our heart and vice versa. Both are equally important.

Thomas has a big Heart. He feels things and Emotions very deeply. He's a sensitive person. Dare I say, he's an empath. His morals lay heavy on his Heart. Because of his Catholic upbringing, his Morality tends to follow that of a religious standpoint. And that affects how his Heart grew and got shaped during his childhood development.

Since Patton is also his Love for Dad Jokes, and an obvious dad character, it makes sense for him. Morality and morals? Well, who teaches you morals, right from wrong? Your parents do. The people who raise you do. So yeah, Patton has this Preacher Dad thing going on. But I digress.

Anyway: Thomas is used to Patton. He's the embodiment of some of his core beliefs. So yeah, definitely a Side he's well aware of.

Creativity, Passion, Ego? So many things to tackle here.

First off, Creativity is literally where a lot of his intelligence comes from. Thomas is a creative type, a creatively intelligent person. He made his entire livelihood based on his creative merits. Though only half of his Creativity, Roman is definitely an important character of Thomas' personality.

Passion means many things: romance, career/hobbies, creative passion, and just a whole lot more. Since Roman is definitely one of the gayest motherf*ckers in terms to romance, it's safe to say him being Thomas' Passion means a lot of different things. He plays a big part in Thomas' romantic love life. He's passionate about his creations, as Creativity, and what he provides for Thomas. He's passionate and dramatic in general, especially considering he represents most of Thomas' love for theatre and acting.

The Ego? Oh boy, is this an essential part to Thomas. The Ego, put simply, is a person's sense of self-worth and self-esteem. It's kept healthy by positive reinforcement and attention. It's in no way bad. In fact, it's a very good thing. It keeps peoples' mental states healthier.

Which explains c!Thomas' mental breakdown, but I digress.

Anyway: The Ego (aka: Roman) is super f*cking important and essential. Thomas knows Roman as the Ego (amongst other things). He's very much used to his Ego, his [family-friendly half of] Creativity, his Passion and romantic Side.

Thus: yes, these three are known enough by Thomas to be appearing on screen. They're visible to us because they're visible to Thomas.

Which explains the dark Sides (and Virgil).

-=-=-=-=-

C. The Darks & Invisibility

The Darks: Janus, Remus, Orange

As I mentioned above: the Lights are visible to us because they're visible to Thomas, known by Thomas.

So, it follows that because Thomas doesn't know the Darks until later, they aren't visible to us until they're visible to Thomas.

Deceit and Self-Preservation? Deceit/Deception and realizing your capacity for it is very important. Lying and deceiving others isn't exactly the best thing on its own, but it can keep you alive. It's a part of emotional/physical survival. It keeps you out of trouble. It can help protect your being and Self. Self-Preservation is, put simply, preserving your Self and your sense of Self. It's protecting your mental and emotional health. It's protecting your Ego and self-worth. It's keeping you alive, trying to preserve your mental state. It's trying to keep you from snapping and completely losing it. Self-Preservation will keep things from you because you aren't ready for them yet, because forgotten memories hurt you, because you need to be in a different place to handle certain things better. Having Deceit and Self-Preservation paired together makes more sense than not.

For Thomas, I'd say he had a lot of Deceit going on for the purpose of Self-Preservation and protection. Especially considering he grew up as a gay Catholic kid in 90s Florida. And thus is a similar experience for most of us fellow queers.

Anyway: Thomas hadn't realized his capacity for Deceit yet, not had he brought his Self-Preservation to light. His mental was indeed suffering, and he wasn't being entirely honest with himself. He was a bit deep in Denial. His Self-Preservation was keeping things from him (other Sides of him, Janus himself, the hard truths he had yet to face), which plays into Denial and possible Self-Ignorance.

The other Sides, that he knew at the time, were trying to hide the existence of Janus as well as convincing him Lying Is Bad, period. His Morality swore off lying, it wasn't right, we shouldn't lie. His Anxiety went off at the thought of lying, even if for good reason (this also had something to do with Virgil's general distaste for Janus). His Logic was a bit neutral to it, as far as I saw. His [known] Creativity, as well as his Ego and Passion, wavered between lying and telling truth. Roman mostly acted in Self-Interest, if only to boost Thomas' Ego or play positively into his passions.

Only did Thomas start to realize his Deceit, and his Self-Preservation for mental health specifically, when his Morality is faced with a more shades-of-grey question. Janus shifts into Patton to appeal to him as something he already knows and is aware of before revealling himself (CLBG). Things go from there to Janus helping him realize how truly f*cked his mental is (SvS & POF). Only then does he become visible.

Intrusive Thoughts and [Darker] Creativity? As much as they aren't welcomed, Intrusive Thoughts are important to note. The more frequent you have them, the more likely your mental health may need to be checked in on. They don't make you any less of a good person. Thoughtcrime isn't real. Thought doesn't equal action. You choose whether or not to act on the thoughts you have. You have control. You'll be okay.

I digressed a little bit. Whoops.

Anyway: Darker Creativity is super f*cking important, especially for a creative person (like Thomas). The darker side of Creativity helps explore more mature ideas and concepts. Without it, many things might not get addressed in your creative works. Things like self-harm, the darker things of mental health, the cruel reality of many different things, grief and death, etc. That includes Intrusive Thoughts (heh). With Darker Creativity, you could explore gore and such monstrosities. Horror games? Thrillers? Cruel realities and dystopias? Body horror? All from that comes from Darker Creativity. Your favourite shooter games? Zombie Apocalyptic fiction? Yep, Darker Creativity.

Having Intrusive Thoughts paired with Darker Creativity makes a little too much sense, honestly.

For Thomas, he had shunned away his Darker Creativity. He repressed his Intrusive Thoughts. Repression does no one any good. Ignoring something like that is more harmful than anything. He shackled his Creativity by repressing and shunning the darker parts of himself like that.

Funny how both of his Creativities feel shackled and restricted, huh?

Moving on: his Self-Preservation helped hide away (in a way) his Darker Creativity. A part of himself that just wants recognition and attention. Remus literally said, and I quote, "Thomas, you made me this way." When you shun a part of yourself and repress it, especially so deeply, it becomes intrusive. When something is so foreign to you and labelled as 'bad', it becomes intrusive. No matter how dark your mind or Creativity is, you're still a good person. Thoughtcrime isn't real.

I need to stop diverging from my point, jfc-

The point: Thomas didn't know his Darker Creativity until much later. He didn't recognize his Intrusive Thoughts as Intrusive Thought until much later. He was denying himself until much later.

Only when his mental was really drowning in the depths of a self-deprecating sea did he see those things. Only when he was so close to a mental breakdown did he start stop repressing those parts of himself.

Only then did Remus pop out, finally able to be recognized for something, and got seen.

Wrath, Jealousy, Regret, and every mystery of Orange? Yeah, this will be a tricky one. We haven't seen Orange on screen just yet, so this is heavily theoretical territory.

Basing everything of Orange on all the random theories I've collected in my lil theory hoard of him.

First off: Wrath relates to anger (it's literally defined as 'extreme anger'). Among that, I believe it can also relate to Righteous Anger. Both are 100% important for humans to have. Wrath, both repressed and expressed, is just as needed as any other feeling or emotion. You're going to feel angry when you're hurt or upset. You'll feel angry or mad when you've been wrong, or at least when you feel like you've been wronged. When you've been mistreated or shunned, there'll be angry. In the case of Thomas, and my fellow queers/minorities, there is the feeling of Righteous Anger. Not righteous in a religious sense/context, but in a sort of vengeful way.

When you've been mistreated for things you cannot change about yourself, you are angry and want Justice. Who are they to say such things about you? To assume this and that? They hurt you, so you want Justice. Sometimes, this can come in the form of vengefulness.

Aka: Karma.

Jealousy? You most often get angry when you get jealous of someone or something. You want to have what they have. You should have or be what they have or who they are. You want that career, that attention, that romantic partner, that family life, that friend, that house or car, etc. It's important to pay attention to that Jealousy, and to see what you really want. Chances are it's more than just wanting something of someone else's. Jealousy is what I believe to be a form of anger.

Regret? This can be more of anger directed at yourself. Guilt. Shame. Regret. You can be angry with yourself for doing or saying something dumb (or that you think is dumb). Why would you do that thing? You hurt that person; now look at the mess you've created. Why would you do that/say that? Why, why, why?

^Regret is important. It's a form of Shame and Guilt unlike any other. Regret also comes from your sense of Morality, and it can be a result of Anxiety.

And all those things I've said for Orange? They're all equally important things Thomas could learn and realize.

Only then, when he finally realizes whatever Orange represents, will we see Orange.

Overall: the Darks are not seen by us until they're seen by Thomas. They remain invisible to us, though they're still there. They're known to us once they're known to Thomas.

And Thomas still has some learning to do.

-=-=-=-=-

D. The Neutral Side & His Flickering Visibility

The Neutrals: Virgil

Virgil represents Anxiety. There's already a two-part episode entirely about him and his role (AA, part I & II). There are many parts to Anxiety, as we've seen. He's a former Dark, a current Light (as far as it's somewhat implied), and a definite Neutral. He's a bit in-between the black-and-white imaginary for the Lights and the Darks. He's both sides and neither of them at the same time.

And how does this affect his visiblity?

Well... it does and it doesn't.

The defining factor of being seen or unseen is Thomas himself.

Virgil is first seen, assumingly as a Dark, in the third SaSi episode (Taking on ANXIETY [TOA]). He goes through his arc and (also assumingly) becomes a Light during AA (parts I & II).

Going back to TOA: Thomas was already aware of his Anxiety, to some extent. Virgil popped in, scared Thomas (lmao), and Thomas immediately recognizes him for who he is. He recognizes his Anxiety; Virgil's no one new. However, at that point, Thomas recognized Virgil as a somewhat obsessive Anxiety. An overbearing Anxiety. Something only there to be negative and annoying.

This, of course, changed as the series progressed. Not the point, though.

He is seen because he is already known. BUT! He was seen as a Dark because that's how he was known.

He is then seen as a Light because that's how he becomes known as.

He never once, to Thomas, is seen or known as a Neutral.

This is important. Virgil is already seen. Then he is seen again, in a different spotlight. But he still isn't seen.

It's almost like his visibility shifts and changes, almost like a flickering streetlight. Like a transparent png file, he isn't all there. Not yet, anyway.

Virgil isn't entirely seen until Thomas recognizes and realizes him as a Neutral Side. As far as I know, that hasn't happened quite yet. Perhaps, with the coming days of Orange, he will be seen then.

And only then will he be seen in his entirety.

*Side Note: I cannot articulate clearly of what I mean exactly about the 'flickering visibility' yet. Brain ain't got the braincells for that today. May revisit and expand on this later.

[frankenfran]

soul eater was iconic agere rep for patty colouring in her exam with crayons and folding it into a giraffe. tbh

ahh this is the kind of ask i love getting the most. you're so right anon. patty had the right idea. soul eater honestly kinda fucked as far as shounen go.

[burgrr-tower-crossover]

tell him chicken died

Love, Giraffe Anon

Harmburger: "🍔🔪🐓➡️🏢🎟"

"🌶➡️🏢🎟🐓💀"

Pepperman: "....."

Pepperman: "Hang on. You're telling ME that you fought that chicken? Sorry, but I personally can't believe that nonsense. You are half the size of me and that thing took me out easily, and you don't look like the one that can fight something that hu-"

Pepperman: "ACK! What are you doing?"

Pepperman: ".....OKOK! I believe you! I'll go back to my studio! But you better not be lying to me, patty man. Or i'll be a little ticked off."

Pepperman: *muttering*

"Jeez bit more intimidating than he looked.. egh..."

*a sound resembling braying donkeys with kazoos is heard playing somewhere in the walls*

[pattie-remembers]

Pattie Boyd: ‘George and I nearly drowned in a riptide on our Barbados honeymoon’

February 22 2023, 12.00pm GMT

Barbados, where Pattie Boyd and George Harrison were caught in a riptide on their honeymoon

GETTY IMAGES; ALAMY

Pattie Boyd lives in London with her husband, Rod Weston, and their dog, Freddie. A Sixties model and now an acclaimed photographer, she was formerly married to Harrison and Eric Clapton.

I was three years old when my parents moved to Kenya to live with my grandparents. We had a beautiful, big rambling house. The garden went on into the wilderness, it wasn’t unusual to see giraffes and lions wandering in.

Growing up in Africa shaped me. I remember very clearly riding bareback on my horse through woodland. I got used to the unusual. Going to bed one night I heard a noise. Underneath the door was a snake, slowly slithering into my room. I was frozen, absolutely riveted, he was huge. I was nineyears old and I started screaming.

I was sent to boarding school in England when I was ten and it was quite a shock to the system. The other girls didn’t know what I was talking about. Africa was all I knew.

Boyd with George Harrison, in 1966

ALAMY

George and I nearly drowned on our honeymoon in Barbados. We stayed in the middle of the island and explored the north coast. One glorious day we went swimming and to my horror I realised that there was a riptide. I was swimming towards the beach and not moving. I realised that if we were to swim parallel to the shore, we might get away from the current. I was terrified. I remember Mick Fleetwood said to me once, it is a weird thing when you know you’re drowning, you start swallowing water and everything becomes euphoric. George and I finally made it to the beach and sat there panting. The waiters brought us sandwiches and we ate the whole lot in shock.

India with the Beatles was a magical time. We were in an ashram, surrounded by like-minded people. The maharishi kept insisting it was very important for us all to learn meditation, for us and for the world. He said things were going to escalate and get faster and meditation would give us the tools to slow life down.

The Beatles would sit on the ashram steps with their guitars, jamming together and singing. They wrote so many songs there, everything from The White Album. The whole vibe was gentle and calming and inspirational.

● Kenya tours: 19 adventures ● Best cities to visit in India

Touring with Eric was new to me because I never went on tour with George and the Beatles. America was eye-opening. When Eric went on stage, the audience would stretch back as far as the eye could see. I used to sit on the side, drink in one hand, camera in the other. During the encore the audience would lift their lighters into the air and the whole auditorium would be filled with flickering lights in the dark. I love to capture beauty with my camera. It’s like anything fabulous: it’s not going to be there for ever.

Boyd with Eric Clapton in 1978

ALAMY

Eric didn’t really like travelling otherwise. I think when you’re a musician and you tour, then the idea of travelling for a holiday is not high up on your list.

A place I’ll always love is Venezuela. I went in 1994 when I was single and discovering who I was again. I did a day trip to Angel Falls, eventually reaching the top of a mountain that looked down over an incredibly steep edge. The idea was to go hang-gliding, something that had never crossed my mind before. I said, “Blow that! I’m not jumping off this cliff!” Suddenly an elderly Indian lady ran past us and leapt off the mountain as we watched in horror. Well, we had to do it then, didn’t we? Clutching my camera to my chest, I jumped into nothing. I felt like a condor in the air — I was jumping to freedom.

Angel Falls in Venezuela

ALAMY

Peru is a special place. I went there with a female shaman, and I knew I was going to take ayahuasca [a plant-based psychedelic drug]. Greedy me, I ended up doing it twice. It was amazing. We also knew that we would be shedding a lot, both physically and spiritually. Just before we started I noticed a huge snake curled on one of the eaves. Six hours later we walked out and I saw the snake’s skin lying on the floor. The symbolism was clear. I never did ayahuasca with George and Eric, they weren’t adventurous like that.

Growing up in Kenya helped me not to be frightened in life. I am excited because there are more things to see, more adventures, and I don’t like to repeat things, I don’t see the point. There is always something new around the corner.

Pattie Boyd: My Life in Pictures is published by Reel Art Press at £39.95 (reelartpress.com)

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