#hey pro tip if you can cross stitch

[tonytonychopprano]

i make up insane conspiracy theories but in a leftist way

[inky-imagines]

Dragongirl’s OC Special

Hey, @dragongirl98765​!

I finally finished your OC special!

I apologise for the delay. I did have it ready(ish) when I came back, but then I read it and decided it needed a rewrite. 

And then I got stuck rewriting another OC special so yours got put on the back-burner and it was just a terrible mess. Again, I’m truly sorry! 

Honestly, I’m still not 100% happy with it, but I thought you shouldn’t be kept waiting because I’m perfectionist.

Enough about me and my inadequacies, here’s your OC special! I hope you enjoy it!

Length Warning: This is easily the longest piece of writing on my blog at 8 pages (3000+ words), so most of it is under the cut.

In addition, I apologise if there’s an increase in grammatical errors in this. 

I always proofread and edit before I post but I’ve never written anything this long before so some may have slipped through the gaps. Please let me know if anything needs changing!

Again, I hope you enjoy!

If he hadn’t been in such a rush, Chrome might’ve noted how different the laboratory looked at night, how the place seemed alive from the magic of the day, lit with the silver moonlight pouring from the windows.

But he was, so the laboratory’s unearthly beauty went ignored in favour kicking down the guard captain’s office door.

“Ezarel!”

The elf leapt in the air with surprise, the once neatly stack paperwork on his desk flying everywhere in disarray.

“What is wrong with you?” Ezarel snarled, hand over his heart. “Can’t you knock?”

Chrome ignored him, slamming his hands on the desk, “I need your help.”

Ezarel’s eyebrows shot up, the looking at Chrome as if he’d grown an extra head. “After that entry? No.”

“It’s important.”

“Enough to break in my door at 11PM?” The elf scoffed and turned away, bending to collect his lost papers.

“Serenity’s birthday tomorrow. I need your help for a party.”

That made him pause.

“What?”

“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” Chrome repeated, a tad impatiently, “I want to throw a party.”

“Wait, wait,” Ezarel dropped the papers, massaging his temples. “She hasn’t said anything about this to me. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Chrome crossed his arms, scowling. “She wasn’t gonna say anything about it, I found out completely by accident.”

“She was pretty against a party when I suggested it but,” His look softens and he drops his gaze, “I thought it’d be a nice surprise for her, y’know? She’s helped us a lot over the last year, I figured it’d a bit dicky not to do something.”

There was a brief pause then Ezarel sighed, no doubt deflated his girlfriend wasn’t going to tell him about her birthday.

“I see. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“So you’ll help?”

Ezarel grumbles, searching through his cabinet drawers for spare paper, “Like I have a choice.”

“Oh wow, you’re actually are a decent boyfriend. I guess I was wrong about you.”

Sniggering at Ezarel’s dirty look, Chrome sat on the edge of his desk, then became serious once more.

“So here’s what I was thinking…”

                                                            -

They managed to plan the party by the end of the night.

Though they didn’t have many supplies thanks to the party’s last-minute nature, Chrome was proud to say the plan they had was manageable.

Then they’d asked around for help.

It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control; suddenly they needed a bigger room for all the self-invited guests, more food to feed them and entertainment in form of a goddamn orchestra (it was a small one but still).

Fortunately, the number of volunteer helping meant the party wasn’t impossible, but it’s scale meant Chrome couldn’t be fussy about any offers of help.

Even if they came from the birthday girl herself.

“Geez, what’s Karuto’s up to?” Serenity grumbled, shifting the food container in her arms, “Why’d he need this much food all of a sudden? We’re not running low or anything.”

Chrome shrugged as best he could with his own load, pottering behind her, “I dunno.”

“It can’t be a festival.” Serenity continued, “We don’t have any of those until August. Besides, they specifically send the familiars out to do some foraging this morning. That suggests this was kinda last minute, otherwise, they would’ve just used previously allocated rations.”

“Huh.”

Serenity cast him a side-eye. “You’re not being conducive to this conversation, Chrome.”

He flushed, glancing away.

Despite being a shadow member and a teen, Chrome didn’t like lying, least of all to Serenity who could read him like a book. The only way to ensure he didn’t tip her off was to keep quiet, but apparently, even that was suspicious.

“What do you want me to say?” He huffed, head still turned as if he was sulking, “That there’s a massive conspiracy going on? We’re just carrying food, Sere.”

He chanced a look at her. She seemed entirely unconvinced, peering at his face with a discerning eye.

“W-what?”

“You know something.”

“Wha-? D-don’t be stupid, “ He scowled, praying his nervousness wasn’t apparent, “You think they’d tell me if they were planning something?"

“Probably not.” She admitted, “But Floppy told me that you joined the familiars on the food hunt.”

“What? Why? That little-!“ Wait. Floppy hadn’t joined the hunt.

He knew what he was going to see before he looked at her, the victorious smirk on her face just affirming he’d fucked up.

Sweat poured down his neck. He’d fallen for the simplest trick in the book and now he was going to pay for it.

Maybe he could simply brush it off?

Nope. The raw curiosity on Serenity’s face told him that she intended to rip the truth out of him whether he wanted her to or not.

He swallowed, “I-“

“Chrome!” Never had he thought he’d be so happy to hear that voice?

“Karuto!” The faun stood just outside the pantry door, scowling furiously.

“It’s about time you show up-“ He stopped, noticing Serenity, “…What’s she doing here?”

“I offered to help Chrome carry the collected food.” She explained, a protective tone replacing her interrogative one. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that a pro- Of course it is!” The faun bellowed before rounding on Chrome, “You think you can just push your work on other people?”

Taking the box from Serenity’s arms, Karuto dumped it on Chrome’s, making the boy sway precariously.

“Hey, that’s too heavy for him!”

“He’s fine,” He dismissed before glaring at Chrome, “You! In the kitchen! NOW.”

Chrome gave Serenity a weak smile, mouthing his thanks before sprinting unsteadily into the kitchen.

She took a few steps forward to follow him.

“Where’d you think you going?” Karuto demanded, stepping in her path.

“You can’t expect Chrome to unpack that all by himself.”

“I can and I do.” He said, “Now scram! You’ve got work to do, don’t you?”

She shook her head, “Not really.”

Karuto scowled, racking his brain for a way to get rid of her quickly. He couldn’t start on the party until she was gone, and he was already running low on time.

“Your boyfriend was looking for you.” He lied, arms crossed.

“Ez?” She frowned, “He said he didn’t have time for me today though…?”

“I’m just repeating I’ve heard. Now shoo! I don't you need buzzing around my workspace.” He flicked his hands at her as if she were an annoying fly.

“Okay, okay!” She relented, taking another step backwards. “But before I go… You’re cooking a big meal, right? What’s the occasion?”

He scowled, clearly debating between telling her or sending on her way.

“A celebration.” He finally said, deciding honesty would get his peace faster, ”For a very special someone. Now get going.”

She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, probably about this special someone, but kept quiet, nodding her thanks before she jogging away.

For a brief moment, Karuto felt a tad worried. No doubt, Ezarel was still hard at work on the party’s decorations. Everything would be ruined if Serenity were to burst in unexpectedly.

Then he shook his head, returning to his kitchen.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ He thought, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

-

Normally, Ezarel was happy to see his girlfriend.

Whenever she visited, she provided a pleasant respite from his mind-numbing work and often brought honey cakes, which was always a plus.

However, when he had an office filled with her last-minute gifts and a helper – Yhkar – who’d insisted on hiding in his closet, he wasn’t so pleased to see her.

“Karuto told you what?” He frowned, praying that the old coot hadn’t just dumped a significant amount of trouble on his shoulders.

“That you needed me for something.” She repeated, distracted by the scraps of wrapping paper on the floor. “What are you doing in here?”

“Just packaging some light-sensitive equipment.” He lied, thankful he’d insisted on transmuting plain wrapping into something more appropriate instead of outright using birthday paper. “Listen, I think the old man was messing with you. I haven’t asked for you at all.”

Which was true. If anything, he’d told everyone to keep her away from his office so he could apply all of the literal magic touches on the decorations and presents easily.

“So, I got tricked?”

“Basically.” He shrugged then froze as the closet door opened slightly.

Yhkar stuck her head out, looking between Serenity and Ezarel nervously.

Shaking his head, Ezarel tried to discreetly motion for her to get back in, but she refused, jerking her head pointedly to the side.

Following the motion, Ezarel saw the source of the brownie’s concern.

When Serenity had first knocked, they’d scrambled to shove all party related items out of sight: under his desk, behind a bookcase, in the cabinets. Somehow, somehow, they’d missed a small stuffed animal on a small end table by the door. Easy to miss when walking in, impossible when walking out.

Normally it wouldn’t be a big thing – at worst Serenity would think it was his – but the ‘Happy Birthday Serenity!’ stitched over the plushie’s heart would most certainly tip her off.

It only took him a second to decide what to do.

“Actually, Serenity,” He said, standing up so suddenly she actually started back. “I do need you for something.”

She pulled a face at him, confused. “But you said-.”

“I just remembered,” He said apologetically, guiding her to his side of the desk while Yhkar crept quietly out of the closet.

“What did you need me for then?” He sat her down, purposely turning the chair’s back to Yhkar, before rummaging through the desk’s drawers.

“I need you,” He grinned when he found what he was looking for, “To help me adjust this.”

In his hand was a stunning bracelet, clearly elvish in design and material. It gleamed in a way the flaunted the rules of physics, the silver almost captivating in its hue.

“Oh wow.” She took it from him, turning the bracelet one way than another, “It’s gorgeous, Ez.”

“I’m glad you think so.” ‘It’s for you after all.’

He didn’t want to let her see the gift before it was time, but even he knew the party was bigger than his ego, though that didn’t stop him from scowling as he fixed it on her wrist.

“It fits me perfectly!”

“Of course it does,” He snorted, crossing his arms while glancing at Yhkar still creeping towards the bear, “You’re the same size as the person I’m giving it to.”

Her face fell a little, eyebrows drawing together as she looked at him. “It’s a gift? For who?”

“Someone.” That made her frown even more, and she glanced away from him.

“A special someone?”

“Not in that way.” A pause, then, “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not,” She said, though her eyes said differently, “I just heard that we’re doing something for a special someone in the guard and thought-“

“It was for them? You’re not wrong, I suppose.”

She glanced away. “Are they special to you?”

Ezarel blinked then grinned, never one to miss a chance to tease someone.

“Of course, “ He purred, “They’re the smartest, kindest, most wonderful person I know.”

With each praise uttered, Serenity’s pout grew fuller and fuller until it was all Ezarel could do refrain from laughing.

“They sound wonderful.” She bit out, still not facing him.

“They are,” He agreed, tilting her face to gently rub his nose against hers, “But you’re still the person I tolerate the most.”

Her face lost its irritated flush, replacing with an embarrassed one.

“…You have a weird way of saying I love you.”

“You’ve been with me for a year now. What else do you expect?”

She giggled, leaning forward, her lips brushing lightly against his in silent invitation. One he would’ve accepted happily had she not pulled away at the last second, a flash of orange catching her eye.

“What the…”

Before he realised it, Serenity had pulled away, leaning around the chair to stare at Yhkar, who was half in the closet, looking like a deer in headlights.

The room was silent.

“H-Hey, Serenity!” The brownie greeted awkwardly, “How long have you been here?”

“…What are you doing?” Yhkar flushed then paled, glancing left and right.

“I-I-I needed to get something on top of the cabinet here!”

“So why are you climbing in? And isn’t this Ezarel’s office?”

The brownie flushed again, “You know I have short legs and-and “ She glanced at Ezarel, begging for help.

“I said she could come in here to grab something earlier,” Ezarel said, gently placing his hands on Serenity’s shoulders. “I’m guessing she thought she could reach the top if she used the inside as a stool.” Yhkar nodded vigorously in agreement, her face regaining some colour.

“But when did she…?”

“Bracelet please.” He interrupted, holding out his hand.

“What? Oh.” She unclipped it, still glancing at Yhkar, and handed it over. “So, Yhkar what did you need?”

“Confidential,” Ezarel spoke for the brownie, gently ushering the shorter girl out. “It’s actually something we need to talk about right now so…”

Letting herself be shepherded to the door, Serenity frowned, “Is related to that special person? Who are they?”

He simply grinned, placing a kiss on her forehead before he shoved her through the door.

-

The last few rays of the sun warmed Serenity’s face as she lying in the gardens, enjoying the warm breeze blowing through her hair.

Or she would be had it not been for the thoughts racing through her head.

It was an open secret, the guard was preparing something for a ‘special someone’. She didn’t mind being left of the loop (okay, maybe a little bit), but other than Chrome this morning – which she’d gathered he wasn’t supposed to do – nobody would let her help with it.

Denied from even her from usual duties, she’d been forced to spend the day with the numerous familiars recuperating from the early morning forage. Of course, they also knew what was going on, and despite her pleas, they kept quiet, insisting she’d find out eventually.

 “It’s ridiculous!” She complained to her companion, “It’s clear they need the help, but they won’t let me? It’s like they don’t trust me enough to do anything…”

She sighed, rolling on her side, “Did I do something? Is this a unique form of punishment? What do you think, Oz?”

Oz – an ostrich-like familiar with a similar temperament to her blue-haired master – squawked, tilting her head at Serenity in what would be a cute fashion if Serenity hadn’t understood exactly what she meant.

“…I realise you’re incapable of empathy, but you could at least try.”

Oz honked in mirth, preening smugly.

“I don’t know how Ez puts up with you,” Serenity sighed, facing the darkening sky again.

Ready to sink into her thoughts, she closed her eyes and-

“Hey, Serenity!”

She jolted up at the unexpected yell, turning to her caller.

“Did I startle you? Sorry!” Alajea laughed, bowing her head apologetically.

“You could do with tempering your voice.” Serenity scolded lightly, “I can hear just fine.”

Pause. “Do you need something?”

“Would you please come with me? I have something to show you.”

“Something?” Already she was getting to her feet, despite every fibre of her wanting to stay in that comfortable spot.

“Yup.” The mermaid grinned at her, grabbing her hand.

Pulled firmly along, Serenity followed the younger girl into the guard, only mildly surprised to see Oz –who’d been surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange – trotting behind them.

Even though she could see a number of people milling around, the guard felt empty, as if a large chunk of it were missing.  

“Did something happen?” She asked, but the mermaid gave no answer, casting a secretive smile in direction and pulling her passenger along harder.

“Here we are!” Alajea cheered, before letting go of Serenity and knocking the door.

After a moment, she nodded turning to Serenity.

“So what did you want to- Hey!” With one smooth motion, Alajea shoved Serenity through the door and she tumbled forward.

Righting herself, she got ready to cuss out Alajea then she looked up and lost her breath.

The room was awash with floating lights, each emitting an enchanting glow that lit the room with a soft yellow light. Familiar faces filled the space, some of which were already picking a most impressive spread on the two tables that spanned the length of the room.

At the front of the room an invisible orchestra was playing, the instruments played by invisible hands, next to it a pile of presents stood.

Hanging from the walls were banners weaved from the most exotic flora she’d ever seen, all reading: Happy Birthday.

“Wha-“

“Happy birthday!” The crowd cheers, flooding her with well wishes and cheers.

She’s overwhelmed, her voice cracking as she spoke, “I don’t know what to say…”

“Thank you would be nice.” Chrome huffed, stepping out from the crowd. Then, more gently “Happy birthday, Sere.”

Serenity laughed, running to envelope the boy in a hug. “Thank you!” She gushed, placing a kiss, which she knew he’d hate, on his forehead. “Thank you all so much.”

“Ugh, don’t get all mushy on me.” The teen snapped, wriggling away at last, “I didn’t do this so you could bring out the waterworks.”

“I’m not crying!”

“You kind of look like you’re going to though.” Alajea teased.

Serenity sccowled, but couldn’t keep up the façade for long as she was all but dragged to the dancefloor, her friends swarming around her.

It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing, people dancing or conversing amongst themselves.

Serenity sat in a corner, taking a few moments to nibble at some food and take in what had been done for her. She almost didn’t notice when Ezarel came to join her, a tad breathless.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He collapsed next to her, stealing some of her food from the plate as he did.

She snatched the plate away from him, giving him a pout. “Where’ve you been?”

“Had something to finish,” He explained, reaching for her plate again, “Enjoying the party?”

Her face lost it’s playfulness, becoming more sombre, “I still can’t believe you guys did this all for me.”

He snorted, reaching around her for another nab at her food. “Surely you didn’t expect us to tiddle our thumbs and do nothing.”

She frowned at him, before dropping the plate in her lap, her shoulders slumped. “But it’s so last mintue. This can’t have been easy...”

“It wasn’t,” Ezarel agreed, “But I’d say you’re worth the trouble.”

A flush rose to her face, and she ducked her head. “Gosh, Ez. You’re almost romantic when you say stuff like that.”

“That was the intention. Now shut up and give me your hand.”

She blinked at him before raising a hand.

Taking it with surprising gentleness, he clipped a bracelet on her wrist; similar to the one she wore before, but far more intricate in design, her name engraved elegantly on the centrepiece.

“There.” Ezarel nodded, satisfied. “The other one looked too plain on you, so I thought I’d change it a bit, hence why I was late. Like it?”

Serenity stared at the bracelet, mesmerized by the craftsmanship.

“You-You do like it, don’t you?” She looked at him and for a second he feared she might cry.

But no, she laughed, setting aside her food to launch herself at her boyfriend. “I love it!”

He stiffened, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around her in turn, and whispering in her ear, “Happy birthday, Serenity.”

[adrenalineguide]

Volkswagen Atlas and Toyota 4Runner TRD Pro

Text and Photos by Michael Hozjan

Volkswagen Atlas: Getting it right

I wasn’t supposed to like the Atlas. It’s big, square and the furthest departure from what we’re used to from Volkswagen in the company’s history. They call it a seven-passenger. Hell, in the sixties my buddy’s parents stuffed more people into a Beetle. I’d hate to see how many kids and adults they’d fit into the Atlas! 

Like I said I wasn’t supposed to like the Atlas and I don’t. I love it. Volkswagen has gone out and broken all the rules and given us a behemoth (it’s nearly 200 inches long) that’s as easy to drive as a compact sedan, is as smooth as a limo and then turns around and is as agile as a sporty sedan. 

The Atlas doesn’t replace any outgoing model as we were led to believe. It’s an all-new model geared for the big gulp, super-size me, generation.  Unlike other mid-size SUVs like the Ford Explorer and Honda Pilot whose greenhouses feel claustrophobic despite their seven and eight passenger cargo ability, the Atlas feels airy. No matter which of the three rows of seats you choose, foot, leg and elbowroom is abundant. Slide the second row all the way back and your passengers can actually cross their legs (shades of 1950 Cadillacs)! Likewise getting into the third row seat, usually a backbreaking chore left for the rug rats, is a cinch even for adults thanks to the folding and sliding second row seat, which can be articulated with one hand. Incidentally the third row is an option and VW also has second row captain’s chairs on the options list (standard on the Execline).

While we await the arrival of Volkswagen’s new minivan, the Atlas can serve as both a people and cargo mover thanks to a whopping 97 cubic feet of space with the second and third row seats folded. Even with all the seats up there’s still an impressive 21 cubic feet behind the third row.  Both rear row seats split to offer a slew of seating/cargo carrying capabilities. Need more space; the Atlas has a 5,000 lb towing capacity (V6 model).

Oh and did I say the Atlas’ interior is quiet. Very quiet. That is until you turn up the sound on the sat radio through the intuitive touch screen of the infotainment system and light up the Fender speakers peppered throughout the truck. Honda, Fiat, Alfa and a slew of other manufacturers should take note of the VW’s user-friendly (read uncomplicated), instinctively placed infotainement controls. 

The Atlas is available in front-wheel-drive and VW’s 4Motion all-wheel-drive. You get a choice of two engine options; a 2.0L turbo charged four that develops 235 horses and 258 lb.ft. of torque or the 276 horsepower 3.6L V-6 that produces that delivers 266 lb.ft. of torque. Both connect to an 8-speed automatic tranny with Tiptronic.

Ever been frustrated where to stow your blind? VW has the answer.

Duh!

Oh come on!

A friend of mine who worked at a local VW dealer once told me how a fellow mechanic would use the term Mickey Mouse to describe a non-useful item on a car or an item with no design sense what so ever. The term stuck. The fake twin exhaust tips (above) are the first time I’ve used it on a VW product. Yes that’s the real exhaust pipe under the fake one!

Prices start at $35,690 for the 2.0L powered Trendline, which is almost in par with the lid trim line price of the smaller Tiguan. Next up the ladder is the Comfortline at $39,690 with such amenities as adaptive cruise control, heated front seats and washer nozzles, pedestrian detection and sat radio added. My Highline starts at $48,990 and nets you the V6 plus a power tailgate, heated tushies for the rear seat passengers, panoramic sunroof and ventilated front seats.  The good news is it’s still priced under the entry level Toureg! Then there’s the top of the line Execline which starts at $52,540 which adds 20” wheels, 12 fender speakers, a digital cockpit, park and lane assist…

Our Kurkuma Yellow Metallic Atlas drew a lot of attention and one or two even liked the color!

Price as tested: $51,524

Toyota 4Runner TRD Pro: Old school cool

“I can’t believe they’re still making this dinosaur!” exclaimed Eric Descarries, my co scribe, here at Adrenaline Auto Guides.

“Yup, and I’m glad they do.” Came my response.

Obviously we have different visions of what an SUV should be. Eric is of the new school, unibody construction. I on the other hand, still lean more towards the old body-on-frame construction. Maybe it’s the hot rodder or the off-roader in me.

Oh I know I’ll have lots of letters about how unibodied cars have crumple zones to keep their occupants safer than their body-on-frame counterparts and how unibodied cars have withstood the test of time when it comes to rust.

It all depends on what your definition of a SPORT-UTILITY vehicle is, and over the years the term seems to have lost it’s meaning. Today most SUVs are little more than overgrown station wagons with all wheel drive. That’s precisely why we have nonsensical terms like crossover. To me a sport-utility meant you could haul all your gear deep into the woods or across the desert in relative comfort protected from the elements, unlike a 4x4 pickup where your gear would be exposed. The sport portion was more towards hunting, fishing, crossing deep ruts and deeper mud holes, making it to the lot where you hoped to one day build your cabin. And utility meant the truck would be able to haul your construction materials/gear up with you. It didn’t mean how many rug rats you can haul to the baseball diamond – which is what it seems like today’s so called SUVs are all about, even our beloved VW Atlas falls into that category.

The early Jeep Wagoneers, Ford Broncos and Chevrolet Jimmys are a prime example of what I’m talking about. Oh and off-roading doesn’t mean going through the 8 inch trench the construction crew dug up on your street. I’ve taken sports cars through deeper holes.

What makes the Toyota 4Runner the last true sport-utility? To begin with I’ll echo my previous statement, it’s a rugged, utilitarian that will just about go anywhere.  While most SUVs, crossovers and the like are built on car-based chassis, the 4Runner still gets its DNA from a pickup.

From a performance aspect, all 4Runners, regardless of which of the five trim packages you opt for are powered by a 4.0 liter, 270 hp, V6 that pumps out 278 lb-ft of torque mated to a five-speed automatic transmission.  My Toyota Racing Development Pro (there’s also a TRD Off Road) came with 4-wheel crawl control, TRD Bilstein high-performance shocks with remote reservoirs, TRD-tuned front springs, 17” black aluminum wheels with 31.5" Nitto Terra Grappler all-terrain tires.  A locking rear differential, Multi-Terrain Select system and Downhill Assist Control all work in conjunction to get you in and out of the toughest trails. The four-wheel-drive system is of the part-time variety and can be engaged with a manually operated transfer case. Hey these systems, like the 5-speed automatic are bulletproof and have proven themselves over the years. Adding some macho visual appeal while protecting your ride from rocks and logs is a heavy-duty aluminum skid plate mounted up front.

Oh and yes the TRD did get plenty of admiring stares and thumbs up.

As capable as the 4Runner is in the rough, on the road the Toyota doles out a smooth, comfortable ride despite the noisy off-road tires. If there’s a downside to the 4Runner it’s the truck’s off-road traits translate into more sway than usual when doing quick lane changes. The five-speed automatic may be great for tackling the Rubicon but on the highway the truck could also use an extra gear. Let’s not forget the 4Runner hasn’t had a major upgrade in years.

My sunroof-equipped tester’s interior was more truck-like than car-like with large buttons that can easily be manipulated even with gloves. Fit and finish is Toyota quality. Red stitching on the black leatherette seating is a nice touch and rear seat passengers get a provision to tilt their seat backs for added comfort. There is a third row option on the other trim lines. The tester offered an impressive 47 cu.ft. of cargo space behind the second row seats – that’s one of the largest trunks in the midsize SUV category. But what truly sold me on the 4Runner is the opening rear window, a feature that has disappeared off the SUV/crossover/station wagon landscape and something that all of my friends with SUVs have wished for.

The tall off-road tires and ride height make ingress and egress a challenge, but isn’t as bad as the first generation. Showing the truck’s age is the lack of techno gadgetry such as blind-spot monitoring and lane departure warning. You’ll have to old school it and pay attention to the road! However, Vehicle Stability Control, Active Traction Control and trailer sway control are all part of the base vehicle, which starts at $44,800. The TRD Pro package adds another $7395 to the tag. The Toyota can tow 5,000 lbs, only the Grand Cherokee and Dodge Durango can tow more, 7,400 lbs. 

If your looking for a large station wagon with all-wheel drive and car like ride, look elsewhere, this Toyota is not for you, But if you want a rugged, tough workhorse that will carry you, your buds and your gear over any kind of terrain, your choices are very limited and none has the opening rear window on the hatch. Add Toyota’s high resale value and the choice gets narrower.

At the end of my tenure with the 4Runner I must admit it was hard to surrender it. Like the Jeep Wrangler, it may not be the greenest vehicle, I managed to squeeze out 12.5L/100kms of the good stuff, but the feel of the truck is so unique and yes it’s smoother than the Wrangler.  

Price as tested: $54, 083.47

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #7: I’m Bad

The ring gave a noise somewhere between a clatter and a creak as Mike McGuire flopped to the canvas, panting. They had been doing solo workouts for the past hour and their black and green ringwear was quite damp- half from sweat and half from the bottle of water or two they’d drenched themselves with to cool down. Propping their chin in one hand, they looked across the yard toward the garden. A small plot of assorted flowers centralized around an orange Voodoo rosebush at the beginning of the summer, the garden had grown substantially since to include not only more flowers, but fruits and vegetables as well. A small patch of strawberries yielded a steady output of plump red berries, a few heads of leafy green cabbage were coming along nicely as were green beans, snap peas, and, Mike assumed, a row of carrots. Right now, the garden’s tender was seeing to several stakes of tomatoes, the bountiful crop a deep ruddy orange in the early summer sunlight. “Hey. Church. Gimme one of those, wouldya please?” He paused in his inspection of the leaves for any signs of beetles, turned to his partner slightly, and shook his head with a small smile. “They’re not ripe.” “C’mon, I don’t care, they look juicy as shit and I’m thirsty.” They pouted, but John was unmoved. “You’ll get sick. They’ll be ready in a few days.” He turned back to his work, putting a wordless finality on the subject. Mike groaned a bit and rolled to the side, snatching a half full bottle of Gatorade off the ring steps as well as their GoPro. There was a third object stowed to the side as well- a classic black and white mottled composition notebook neatly labeled ‘DAKOTA JENNINGS’. As with every other opponent they’ve ever had, John had used his keen observational skills and insight to keep a well documented record of the Firecracker, and had even made a few updates as pertaining to the match they’d had with her and her partner at Rite of Kings. Mike frowned sourly as they thought of it, rubbing the back of their head. They’d been lucky not to need stitches or come away with a concussion, but the spot where the chair had made contact was still sore even days after the fact. They’d had it. The Chimera Tag Team Championships were in their grasp, and ReKota had known it too. So out came the filthy tactics and steel chairs and at the end of it all, before Bishop Church could even see what was going on, Mike McGuire had hit the canvas and been rolled up for three. The ovation from the crowd, while appreciated, didn’t take away the sting as much as they would have liked. That had been that. And Mike was still angry at themself for it. Angry, and raw, and not just because of the screwy loss- because of what had played out on Twitter afterward. A typical snarky back and forth banter had ended ugly, and Mike wasn’t even sure that Cross or Dakota were aware of just how cruel what they’d said was. How could they? It’s not like Mike advertised the ugliest parts of their past. Huffing out a breath through their nose, Mike took a deep glug of the Gatorade- not, they sulkily thought, a juicy garden-fresh tomato- and wiped their mouth on the back of their hand, setting the GoPro across from them and clicking the record button on. You know, people say stupid stuff on Twitter all the time. The whole platform is made of people’s stupid comments, after all. I’m hardly immune either. Which is why 90 percent of what you jokers say on that thing doesn’t bother me. Hell, bantering back and forth with you and your… boyfriend? Fiance? Eh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s actually kinda fun. And then you went and ruined that. Let me let you in on something. You’re not the first people to tell me I have a hittable face. You’re not the first to tell me I’m about to get my face caved in. Let me tell you, Jennings, you and Reboca don’t want to be in the same league as that person. I doubt even you are that low. “Fuck.” Mike had clicked the GoPro off and was staring at it. That was stupid. The specter of Steve Archer hadn’t been exorcised half as much as Mike would have liked. A couple of sleepless nights prior had made that perfectly clear. Just thinking about it made Mike almost want to call out across the yard and have John join them for a little bit, hold onto him until they felt safe. But they were stronger than that, right? Besides, they had that… that one thing they couldn’t keep putting off. John was going to need them for support, not the other way around. Mike would be fine. They always were in the end. Reaching forward, they picked up the GoPro and erased what they just recorded, as if those words had never existed. Goodbye. They closed their eyes and took a few deep breaths. Felt their old reliable steel slide into place. No, there was no sense showing vulnerability where it wasn’t necessary. Dakota, whether on Cross’ direction or her own volition, would eat that shit alive. It’d be like a drop of blood in a tank full of starved great whites. They turned the camera back on and set it across from the ring, starting again in earnest with  that big sharkish smile. “So. How about Rite of Kings, Valor Pro faithful? Crazy as fuck, wasn’t it? I mean, Jesus Fuck, did Spiral vs. Aoki nearly make you hurl, too? Shit was fucking insane. Sure hope they catch that pale stickyfingered fucker- after all that, Aoki deserves that strap. I mean, I like the Zombies. They’re weird, but they’re my kind of weird. Cosmo Cooper… STILL has that Apex Championship, which I’m sure has Cross Reboca’s underwear in all kinds’a fuckin’ knots. Oh. And speaking of…” Mike’s face went utterly sour then, one hand combing sweat-damp hair out of their eyes. “Ya boys got beat. But it weren’t for lack of trying, Faithful, and it weren’t for lack of cheating on ReKota’s part. I mean, you all saw it, yeah? And if you didn’t, feel free to check out a summary on YouTube. I’ll wait.” The Bronx Brawler paused a moment, twisting their wrist as if looking at a watch. “Yeah, there, you see what I’m talkin’ about? This close. Just a fuckin’ hair, and all of the sudden Jennings and Reboca devolve into their cheap fuckin’ ways because at the end of the day? They know they can’t win fair against a team like me and Church. And it was a damn shame because we were actually having a good time. But, one thing led to another. Broken up pin, then a wallop to the back of my head, and good ol’ N-S-F-Dubs come out of our first Valor Pro Wrestling pay-per-view empty handed.” Tisking and shaking their head, Mike gave a sigh. “Which leads us to here. I’m going solo this week. Me vs. Dakota. And I got all this shit running through my head like a fuckin’ freight train about it. Lots to unpack, so let’s start with bitches talkin’ shit, shall we? Any idiot can talk shit these days. You just get yourself a Twitter account and start running your fool mouth, regardless of whether you got anything fucking relevant to say or even if you know what the blue hell you’re talking about. My opponent this week is no fucking exception. If she knew what the hell she was talking about, she’d know that the last thing my partner is is a ‘meathead’. But I digress.” They snorted, and in spite of themselves cast a look off camera that caused their expression to soften slightly. It’d be missed if you happened to blink, though, because a split second later had Mike facing forward once again, a cool smirk on their face. “Between calling herself our ‘daddy’ and calling me a fucking drunk, Dakota Jennings is proving herself to be just another internet tough guy who thinks they’re ten feet tall with their dick hanging in the dirt. Least, they were until Church said something in particular that seemed to sting a little. My partner, in his infinite wisdom, pointed out that your tendency to go all El Fucking Kabong on people when the chips are down was compensating for a lack of, y’know, any real fucking talent. And at that point, Jennings had a major case of e-cock shrinkage and started whining that such an accusation was ‘hurtful and untrue’.” That smirk began to grow into something distinctly more vicious. “Methinks the lady doth protest too fucking much. Now, I’ve done my homework. I know all about you. And I could sympathize. It fucking sucks to bust your ass and not have anybody take notice. There’s a few ways to tackle that problem constructively, none- I’ll repeat to get it through your skull, NONE- of them involve cracking skulls with wild abandon. But that’s what you did. That’s what you keep doing. And now? I think you’ve been relying so much on the chairs that you don’t know how to get by without them. Now, I challenged you to leave your folding steel special at home. And you said you would. But I don’t fucking believe you, Jennings. Why should I? Why would our little date in Peru be any different than the past few weeks?” Mike rolled their shoulders and tipped their head to the side twice, cracking their neck. “On the other hand, maybe this wouldn’t be the match you’d want to fucking ditch your only real advantage in. Do you know who I am? Have you done your homework like I have? In case you haven’t got yourself out from under Cross’ dick for the last few days, let me educate you. My name is Mike McGuire. I’ve trained at the feet of King Race himself. I’ve gone at people wrapped in barbed wire. I’ve dropped big hairy bitches fuckin’ thrice my size with a single punch. I am one half of the greatest pure tag team of this generation, and if I’m bragging about all this? I’m still being fucking sincere.” Suddenly, Mike’s expression darkened. They leaned forward, their tone gaining something borderline ominous. “I can play fucking dirty if I have to, Jennings. I relish that shit. You’ve been in that ring with me, you know what I can do with backup. You won’t be able to tag out this time, though. You won’t have anywhere to run. But I double dare you. Break your word and go for that fucking chair. Do that, Jennings, and you will be one fucking sorry bitch, because I ain’t gonna play that shit twice. You slither one more cheap victory against me out of your ass and your rich little boytoy is gonna be pushing you to the next show in a fucking wheelchair. See you in South America, Firecrotch.” Their harsh expression remained on their face, even as they reached forward to click off the camera. Mike leaned back against the ropes, letting out a long exhale. Perhaps, they thought, they shouldn’t show John that one. They were pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of the violent threats that they’d dropped. But the thing was? Mike meant every last word. They were as sick of Dakota’s shit as they imagined Ms. Byrne was, but Mike didn’t have the power to fire anyone. They did, however, have the power to do horrible things to people. Things they hoped it wouldn’t come to, but couldn’t make promises it wouldn’t. Sighing, they rolled over, laid on their stomach in the shade of the spreading maple, and watched John tend his garden with a tender affection they almost envied.