#my brain can’t help but think of helluva stuff at all times

[ruumiinlaulaja]

Yay everything is ready for christmas and now it’s Christmas Carol time.

Andrealphus would make a great Scrooge btw. Lol the poor evil ice queen got his gay heart broken and turned into a bitch, and then gets a redemption arc. I’d love to read that story.

[stusbunker]

BGDC: Stay Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Female Hunter!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck and Jack

Written for: @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo

Summary: Everything comes to a head. Can she do better this time? Is there anything worth salvaging? Chuck has his own thoughts.

Square filled: In Vino Veritas

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: THIS HURTS, Flashbacks in italics, canon-ish, verbal arguments, that pesky motherfucker HOPE, Chuck is still a dick.

Series Masterlist

Inherit the Earth con’t

    It had taken Sam two weeks to get out of Dean what happened, why she left. It was not his proudest moment, but the thought of her in their home made him sick. So, he had shown her the door. He thought he was her hero, he’d never imagined she’d treat him like a piece of meat.

    There were some lines that you shouldn’t cross and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her that.

The drive to Sam and Jack feels like an eternity, even ignoring all traffic laws. The day is bright, but the impala rumbles garishly, a black omen. The static hiss of unmanned radio stations gives her something to do. She diligently sorts the tapes, finds something to fill the void. 

Melody as white noise. A band aid on a bullet wound. Dean can’t fix what’s been broken. But she never even tried.

Sam cries at the sight of her. She runs into his arms and he squeezes until he can’t any longer. An ounce of redemption in the ocean of guilt. Sam glances over her head to his brother, he feels the other shoe drop.

“Where’s Cas?” Jack’s obvious question echoes the shame in the new arrivals’ eyes. She holds her breath as Dean explains, like she’s waiting for his story before she can move on. Like he didn’t tell her either.

Sam aches with what he’s allowed to happen. The old internal rage gnashing at his gut as he screams in an abandoned restaurant. They’re what was left behind. All they have left to do is give Chuck what he wants.

His ending, at last.

Dean didn’t tell her what he and Sam were doing. Didn’t need an outside opinion on this one. Instead he asked her to keep an eye on Jack, knowing she’d say yes. He guessed he wasn’t done asking for things. The sight of Chuck makes him see red. But this was it, he’d die with his brother beside him. For the world.

When Chuck blows off their offer, he can’t say that he’s surprised. Disgusted, angry, regretful maybe, but Dean’s not surprised. 

The house always wins.

They crash at a motel for the night, everyone gets their own rooms for a change. She knocks on his door just after midnight with a bottled peace offering and her ratty sleep clothes. Dean doesn’t need this right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be cruel.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean holds the amber liquid up to the light to read the label.

“Liquor store down the street. Don’t even feel bad for taking the five finger discount anymore,” she sighs and drops on the spare bed. “You gonna tell me about your little side mission or do I just get to guess at the outcome?”

Dean cracks the bottle open and sighs. “Bupkis. So, nothing to tell, really.”

She’s watching him for signs of lies, at least she’s not overtly antagonistic with her appraisal.

He offers her the bottle and she shakes her head. ‘Maybe she learned her lesson,’ he thinks and then takes a long pull off the glass rim.

“So, the Empty, huh?” Dean grimaces as she closes her eyes, taken aback.

“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” Her faces pinches and he is just too fucking tired.

“Because you always want to talk about it. It was kind of a thing.” Dean shrugs.

“I came to check on you, dumbass,” she mutters. He sits on his bed, leaves the bottle between them on the nightstand.

He doesn’t stop the sour hum that claws up his throat. He was trying to play nice, but she just had to keep on being the tough guy. “Funny, didn’t think you cared much what happened to me anymore, or how I feel about things at least.”

She has the gall to look surprised, but underneath it he sees she’s almost as tired as he is. “I did not come here looking for a fight. If you’ve got something to say to me--- Maybe you should remember who called who. And who dropped everything to help.”

“And I don’t seem to remember you doing too much of that,” Dean snaps back, turning his head only.

She pauses and Dean feels a little smug that he’s getting to her. But not nearly as much as he should. He cocks his eyebrows, waiting for her obvious answer.

She shoves him back on his proverbial heels instead. “We both know you were just keeping tabs on me. There wasn’t anything for me to do. And then I became a fucking bargaining chip. So screw you, Dean. I’m not here for a performance review.”

“I think we already established, no one is screwing anyone here,” Dean mutters, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“Is that what this is about?! You are honestly bringing that shit up now?!”

“So what if I am? Better than acting like it never happened. Playing the fucking martyr,” Dean bites back. “I, at least, own my shit. Maybe you should try it some time.”

“You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do, wait on a damn cross until you finished your case?!” She still doesn’t get it. Dean’s chest is writhing with all the things they never buried.

“It doesn’t matter. We were family. And you threw it all away,” Dean lays it out.

“ME?!”

“Yes, you!” Dean’s standing, hunching over her, unleashing. “You had to make it about your feelings and the crush you had on me when we were kids. Don’t you see? It was more than that. We WERE more than that. But you were lonely, or horny or needed to drown your feelings. And you cheapened everything. And now---- we can’t even have a real conversation.”

It’s like he’s looking at a completely different person. He doesn’t even know her anymore. 

“Dean, I---” He cuts her off, this was entirely pointless.

“Don’t, okay? Just--- leave it. I’m gonna get some air.” Dean starts towards the door and slumps, half turned he continues, “Look, I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the Empty. But Cas did---- And to be clear, this wasn’t ever about rebuilding bridges, it was about stopping Chuck. And we couldn’t manage that.--- But we can’t just go back to the way things were just because we’re all that’s left. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be--- for everybody.”

The heaviness of wasted effort sinks into his shoulders. Dean closes the door behind him with a gentle click. They both know she’ll be gone before he gets back.

No one left in the entire world and one of my oldest friends still doesn’t want me around. This wasn’t humble pie, it was a goddamn humility infused vat of pie filling. Not a spoon in sight.

Fuck him. Fucking pie metaphors even. Fucking brain.

I leave the damn whiskey, but I really want to throw it against the wall. Dump it in his boots. Bath in it. But I don’t. I give him his twenty paces and I duck out, bypass my room, Jack’s, and head back towards the liquor store. There was a pick-up I might be able to hot wire, if I remember where I saw it.

I mash my lips together to stop their quake, but everything keeps clawing its way up, centering itself in my way. I did this. The one person I needed to believe in me and I fucking ruined it. It was never about Amara, or Cas or him being too good for me. I just wanted what wasn’t there. 

The dirtiness slides down and clings to me, like a wet coat. An unwashable stain, that’s all my presence is anymore. I don’t want to be where I am unwanted, unneeded, unuseful. Well, useless really. But, I can’t lose Sam too. Not again and definitely not now. I stop when I spot the truck. 

Running isn’t going to mend what running severed.

Know better, do better.

I creep back to the motel and pretend to sleep. There are salt lines dried across my skin when Jack knocks on my door.

The sun still rises. Dean tosses his things in his bag, even the whiskey. Waste not want not. They’re heading home to regroup or to hide or just for something to do. He doesn’t care, but being out in the open feels like he’s leaving them open for an ambush, or Chuck’s prying eyes at the very least.

He knows they’re not safe from that anywhere. It just feels safer somehow.

Dean feels good in motion. Sam’s at his side, while she and Jack sit in their own quiet corners in the back. The looming reality of an empty planet unnoticeable on the backroads. Denial is a helluva drug.

So is hope. Good thing he kicked that one.

When they pull into the garage, he doesn’t even bother grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Dean bee lines for the hard stuff and no one even bats an eye.

Maybe he has always been that predictable. Maybe he no longer cares.

I’m sitting on my bed, flipping through an old photo album when Sam finds me. It’s been three days and the bunker just keeps getting hollower the longer we stay inside. It’s like Chuck is slowly strangling the oxygen from the air.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one to break.

Dean’s too far into a pity party at the bottom of a bottle to be pushed off any one edge and Sam’s too good at keeping on. Of course, Jack is getting by on sheer purity of spirit.

“How you holding up?” Sam’s voice is scratchy, but familiar, I don’t know the last time we actually spoke. I don’t really make eye contact, but shrug all the same.

“You?” I ask, unnecessarily.

He sits down beside me, looking over my shoulder. He huffs out a laugh at one of the pictures.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep all of these,” Sam says as he reaches over and slides his finger tips over the poorly taped Polaroids.

“They were at Bobby’s for a while, but I dug them out of a storage unit after--- well, after I fucked things up with your brother. Figured they were all I had left after that.”

Sam inhales at my bluntness, cocks his head because it hurts to hear, but also doesn’t sit right. What a doof.

“Spit it out, Legs, I know you wanna say something,” I goad.

“I guess I don’t really--- what happened?” Sam’s eternal need to know things going for my weak spot. “I mean, Dean said you tried to put the moves on him, but I guess, why was it so horrible?”

“Well, I actually have some new information on that front,” I offer, turning to face him and placing the memories on the far side of the bed. 

Sam’s brows pitch. 

“Apparently, I--- cheapened everything. Dean thought whatever our relationship was, was more important than hooking up. And I made it all about me.”

“He said that?” Sam asks in a hush.

“Yup,” I huff out. “And a very firm, ‘there is no rebuilding bridges’,” I say in my best/worst Dean voice.

“Wow.” Sam looks to the ceiling then scratches the back of his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I mean, I did kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had psyched myself up that entire night, misread everything. I’ve never been the one guys willingly go home with. I shouldn’t have forced it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had---,” Sam breaks off when he thinks about my asshole ex.

“I’ve had a couple of real winners,” I finish for him. “But it’s okay. Because now we’re the last people on Earth. No one left to break my heart.”

I slap the edge of the mattress and lurch to my feet, ignoring the pain in Sam’s eyes. He just lost Eileen and here I am moping about something that happened over two years ago. Once a shitty friend, always a shitty friend.

“You can keep looking through that if you want. I’m gonna start dinner,” I add at the door.

Sam nods, but he doesn’t reach for the album. He just sits on my bed and chews the inside of his lips.

Jack’s feeling things and Sam’s looking at Dean with insistence, but Dean’s hungover-leeched brain is not putting things together.

“What?!” 

Sam grimaces, heavy on the bitch factor. “I think you should be the one to tell her we’ve got a lead. Meanwhile, I’ll start packing the car.”

“Great. Sure.” Dean does little to hide his disdain. Sam doesn’t budge.

He grunts through an explanation as she cleans her gun. Luckily, she doesn’t ask too many questions because the vibrations of his own voice are adding to the throbbing at the base of his skull. 

She slips him a bottle of painkillers before ducking into the back seat next to Jack. He doesn’t say thank you, but he knows she knows he’s grateful. They used to be able to do that, not as easily as he and Sam, but silent communication was possible, once.

He gets them on the road before noon, the familiar feel of the wheel in his hands steadies Dean until the pain starts to subside. The soft, yet urgent Jack-P-S guiding their way.

They stop for an inevitable pitstop and Dean gets hit with a pure dose of that damning hope. A white, shaggy dog is laying outside the men’s room and his face breaks into a smile for the first time in weeks. It’s the proof he needed aside from Jack’s fuzzy radar.

Chuck didn’t get everything.

He scoops the dog up and shows him off to Sam, forgetting entirely about his need to pee. He sets the sudden miracle in the backseat, promises there’ll be enough room for him.

That’s when Dean spots Chuck in the field, menacing and knowing. Dean straightens on instinct, facing the threat. As Chuck raises his hand to snap, a gushing voice rushes to Dean’s side.

“Oh, who’s a good boy?!” She doesn’t see their destructive creator waiting in the wings and Dean moves to shield her from Chuck’s gaze. 

It’s too late.

Suddenly Chuck is standing beside the impala’s trunk.

“Now, how exactly did I miss you?” Chuck gapes, the disbelief and rage shifting across his once amiable face.

She chokes on her breath, freezes on the spot. Dean sees the power trip flash in Chuck’s piercing blue gaze. He likes when people are fearful, he likes to see them squirm.

“She wasn’t here when you iced everybody, Chuck. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s still just us,” Dean reasons, downplaying her worth.

“Nah, I don’t like it. It’s supposed to be you and Sam. Jack, fine. He’s just a pet anyway. But her? You guys get over your crap and suddenly there’s a whole new generation of thorns in my side. Sorry,” Chuck huffs and snaps his fingers. She disappears faster than Dean could take it in. “Not sorry.”

“What the hell?!” Dean barks. Panic, rage, and overwhelming sadness shoot through him as he dives towards Chuck. But he’s gone before Dean can get there. Falling to the gravel, gracelessly, Dean spins on his knees to see if Sam or Jack are still alive and accounted for. He spots their silhouettes through the convenience store windows. With that little platitude, Dean staggers over to soothe the dog’s sudden whimper. And then it vanishes too.

Maybe Dean never made it out of Hell after all.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @peridottea91​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @flamencodiva​​ @akshi8278​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​ @smi727​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​ @crashdevlin​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​  

Read On: Free Will

[ozzdog12]

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year. 

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out. 

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so. 

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

[ralphspina]

Landing

A fun little something I wrote to fill one of the BoB LoveFest Prompts!

Prompt:  It's D-Day; George and Gene land near each other in Normandy and need to go find their company.

Read on AO3

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

Helluva day.

It`s Luz`s first thought after he hits the ground and takes stock of his situation. It's dark and he's alone. He also seems to have lost his weapon and the damned leg bag. And his radio must have caught some shrapnel or something given the mini crater it now sports. His first day at war and he's already a mess. Fantastic. He gathers himself and the few belongings he has left and begins to make his way towards the tree line. After only a few feet, he hears a rustling sound just ahead of him.

“Flash!”

“Luz?”

The answering voice is immediately recognizable - only one person has that particular smooth accent.

“I don't think that's the right answer, Doc.”

There's a bit more rustling before Roe appears just in front of him with a half smile.

“Guess it's a good thing it was you then. You land okay? Anythin’ hurt?” Luz watches as Roe`s eyes wander over him, checking to make sure he looks uninjured. 

“All good, Doc. You?”

“I'm alright. You seen anyone else?”

“Nope, looks like it's just you and me.” Luz smiles at Roe, comforted a bit by the fact he managed to land near the medic. “Guess we'll have to go find everyone else. Good thing I'm a hide and seek champ.” 

They set off, Luz, upon his insistence, taking point, despite them both being equally weaponless. They move quietly for some time, glued to each others’ sides, only ever stopping to quickly consult their map and compass. 

Even with the sky just beginning to lighten as dawn approaches, it's still quite dark out as they make their way through what appears to be a long abandoned farm. Luz leads them towards the crumbling farmhouse, eyes trained a bit too much on their destination and not enough on the ground in front of him. There`s a loud crack followed half a moment later by an almost equally loud thud and then a quiet exclamation of oh fuck.

Luz sits in shock for a moment, eyes darting around his new, less than ideal, position several feet underground. There`s a scrambling sound and what Luz can only assume must be the Cajun version of oh fuck. Looking up towards the noise, he finds Roe`s familiar face peering down at him through a rather large hole framed by broken, rotting pieces of wood.

“You alright?!”

“Doing peachy, Doc! What do you think of my foxhole? Might be a bit deep, huh?”

The grin on Luz`s face is quickly wiped away by the sudden, near crushing, presence of Roe as he damn near lands on top of him.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“You hurt? How's your legs?” Roe is already kneeling next to him, poking and prodding Luz`s body, looking for injuries, as he asks the questions.

“I`m fine. And look, I'm touched, flattered even, that you would jump into a hole for me, but you do understand that we are now both stuck in this hole?”

Roe stops his examination to glance first at Luz`s face, then up at the hole he had just jumped through, and then around at their new surroundings.

“Must be an old cellar or somethin’.”

“That's nice. Glad we get to spend our very first day at war stuck in a dusty old cellar. Hey, what`s Cajun for guess we’re fucked?”

“George-”

“Ha! It sort of sounds like my name!”

The exasperated look on Roe`s face only makes Luz smile wider.

“Anyone ever tell you you look like an annoyed puppy when you make that face?”

The only response he gets is an eye roll as Roe gets up to look around. Luz follows suit.

“Maybe we’re lucky and this is where they stored all their ladders.”

There's a small amused snort from Roe`s direction as they search in the darkness. The space they find themselves in is both bigger than expected and emptier than hoped for.

“You really ain't hurt?”

“Jesus, Gene, I`m fine. You don't have to fuss.”

Roe huffs at the accusation of fussing, “Ain`t fussin’. Just seein’ if you`re alright to give me a boost.”

“Now that I can do! Can`t shoot any krauts or avoid falling into cellars but I can be a damn good step stool.” The ridiculously large grin on Luz`s face is met, well, with a look somewhere between amusement and mild irritation.

The added height of Roe on Luz`s shoulders ends up being just enough for Roe to grab onto one of the steadier pieces of board and haul himself out. He disappears from sight as soon as he's out and stays out of sight for longer than Luz cares for.

“Doc? Hey, Doc!”

No answer.

“Doc! Don`t forget your favorite radioman!”

Still no answer.

Luz begins pacing, staring up into the dark, impatiently waiting for Roe to reappear. After what feels like a thousand minutes but is actually closer to five, Luz calls out again.

“Gene! Gene, buddy! I don't want to die in a hole! Gene, I-”

“I`m right here! ‘S alright! I just went to look for a rope in the farmhouse.”

“Well, did you find any?”

The large box that comes crashing down into the hole beside him is the answer.

“Jesus, you really gotta give a guy warning before you hurl stuff down a hole!”

“Found a box.”

“I see that.”

“Stand on it and it should be enough for me to grab you and pull you out.”

“Yeah, alright. Just don`t drop me, okay? I`m a valuable resource.”

Roe does drop him. Several times. But eventually, the plan works and Luz is successfully rescued from the old cellar with only a few bruises and scrapes. As they sit catching their breath, Luz rips out a handful of grass and tosses it at Roe.

“You didn't have to grunt like you were hauling up a baby elephant, you know. I'm light as a feather! Maybe you need to work on those muscles, Doc.” Luz winks over at Roe who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sure, if that feather`s made of lead. And glued to a baby elephant.”

Luz can't help the burst of laughter from the unexpected joke. Roe quickly clamps his hand over Luz`s mouth, shushing him as he does.

“I know I`m funnier than you, but you gotta keep it down.”

“Funnier than me?!” Luz`s words come out in a barely attempted whisper as they both clamber to their feet. 

“Mhmm. I`ll teach ya how to make real jokes later, but first we gotta find the rest of Easy.”

Roe grabs Luz by the hand and yanks him along. They walk like that for several minutes, Roe leading the way, determined, and Luz trailing just behind him in quiet amusement, his hand clamped firmly in Roe`s.

“You planning on holding my hand the whole way, Doc?”

Roe glances down at their clasped hands at the comment, quickly letting go and mumbling a quiet sorry, didn't realize. 

“No worries. When we get to a road, you can hold my hand as we cross it.”

Roe merely shakes his head and keeps moving.

“You know, it's okay to admit you enjoy my company, Gene. I`m an enjoyable guy.”

“My mama taught me not to lie, Georgie.” Roe mentally kicks himself as soon as the overly affectionate nickname leaves his mouth and he can't hide the shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. 

“Georgie?” Luz`s voice rises, delighted by the surprising endearment.

Roe makes a small sound in the back of his throat as his brain scrambles for something to say.

“Yeah, Georgie, like the rhyme. Georgie Porgie, pudding pie, kissed the girls ‘n’ made them cry.”

“For the record, no one has ever complained, or cried, over my kissing ability.”

“That you know of.”

All the while, as they bantered back and forth and slowly made their way in the direction of their company, Luz`s fingers had slowly curled into a fist, savoring the leftover warmth from Roe`s hand.

Helluva day.

[ryosei-hime]

Writer Tag Game

I got tagged by @ernmark

I’m terrible at tagging people in these so if you see this and want to do it, go for it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

I’m gonna start by saying that I have a larger chunk of fics on FF.net because I wrote more back when I used that instead. I also had a very long hiatus from writing fics at all due to mental health and life stuff.

Also I realized recently that a lot of my RvB fics didn’t end up on AO3 and I just left them here on tumblr which was the last time I was super active with fanfic back in 2014.

So, long way around to say, only 20 that are housed on AO3 specifically.

What's your total AO3 word count?

49,141

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Naptime is Best Time which was my most popular RvB fic. A little humorous Grimmons.

Stolitz Week Oneshots - Some of my most recent work since that event only ended recently. Very specifically I got a lot of those kudos after posting Confession which seems to be well-liked and makes me very happy.

Personal Space which is a HuskerDust chapter fic that deals with Husk’s insecurities regarding his demon form.

Sex and Therapy - An OCxRobo Fizz story in which an imp therapist buys a busted up second hand Fizzarolli Personal Companion with intents to help him professionally but uh. *points at the title* This one was very surprising to me because I don’t expect much if any attention to be given to my OC focused things. So that this one got enough to be on the top five makes me really happy.

Apologies - An Alix/Chat Noir fic that I did for a rare pair exchange. Another one that surprises me. : P Especially as I only watched the first season of Ladybug and often forget I even wrote it.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to and if the comment is longer, I definitely do. With shorter comments, it depends on my mood. I’m socially awkward and whether or not saying just thank you feels inane and unwanted as a response will vary with how I’m feeling. I definitely appreciate all comments! Even one word comments. : P But responding will vary based on my own mental processes and has nothing to do with the commenter or my appreciation for the comment. Some comments will make me particularly happy and I’ll read them over again but still not respond because I don’t have anything specific to say in response. It’s mostly a series of noises that can’t be conveyed in text.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Oh! That’s definitely Don’t Cry Usagi. A short fic speculating the long term effects of Naru's role as victim in Sailor Moon's crime-fighting life. I don’t do character death a lot but I had this idea and it wouldn’t leave me alone.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think I end up with a lot of happy endings. Like there’s probably suffering along the way but in the end things work out more often than not. So, I don’t think that I can say any one fic has a happier ending than another, really.

Do you write crossovers? If so, What is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I was probably more prone to that when I was younger. I did have one that I never posted anywhere that involved Doctor Drakken from Kim Possible attempting to use a device to access a universe in which he had been successful in taking over the world (I think this was before a Stitch in Time came out) and learn how he did it. But of course the device malfunctions and sort of scatters universes. I used pretty much all the cartoons I was particularly interested in at the time.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I wouldn’t say hate. I’ve definitely received some weird responses though. And all on FF.net.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I only very, very recently starting doing so! Because you can only write a character that’s a sexbot for so long without it coming up. It was important that the second occurrence of full on sex in Sex and Therapy (I fade to blacked the first) actually be written because there was a lot of emotion and bonding involved in it that needed to be shown. Which is why I said fuck it and did the shorter one right before it as well. I had to accept I couldn’t tell that story without sex. It’s in the title! But now I’m more comfortable writing it, so I may be more prone to do so going forward.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I’m pretty sure I had a few snatched up by bots grabbing a bunch all at once. But not by a person that I am aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I’m aware of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I attempted to do so once with a 9/Labyrinth crossover. I failed you @ernmark​. Forgive me. Actually, there was one other time where I was slightly more successful but it also never got posted anywhere or made it beyond a couple of rough drafts. It was a DBZ fic and I remember a much more talented writer was working with me and I was super grateful for their input and help because this was when I was like *maths* 13? I was super young. We were using yahoo chat to work on it together. And this much better/older writer treated me so nicely and wasn’t condescending at all. It was really nice of them. I will always remember you stranger from yahoo chat.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That definitely depends on the fandom. Since these are the two fandoms I’m active in right now: Stolitz is my favorite Helluva Boss ship and HuskerDust is my favorite Hazbin Hotel ship.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Okay, there are two fics I started a million years ago that I think about rewriting and finishing constantly. I even started to rewrite one of them more recently before Helluva/Hazbin took over my brain. One was Foutley’s Phone Buddies which was an As Told By Ginger fic focused on aged up Carl/Blake. The other Was Crouching Tigger, Hidden Rabbit which was a Tigger/Rabbit fic. That’s right. I ship the fuck out of Tigger and Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh.

What are your writing strengths?

Characters and dialogue. I’m someone with very low self-esteem or it used to be very low. I guess it’s gotten better but it’s still hard to say outright nice things about myself. But I’ve never had a problem saying I’m good at characters. Confessions is kind of a point of pride for me right now with that because of how much attention it’s received for being in character.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot and structure. I write primarily by instinct. And my instinct is primarily character driven. What makes it easy for me to just churn out character interactions without thinking makes it difficult for me when I have to stop and slow down long enough to figure out what’s actually supposed to be happening in the story and in what order for the best pacing. The more my wheels have to actually turn, the harder it is for me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ll do it poorly with flagrant disregard for poor native speakers. I’m so sorry native speakers. I used bacha galupe for Angel in one recently. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it. And I’m pretty sure I learned that from the Golden Girls so how accurate it is or if it’s even spelled right is beyond me. But it’s out there now. I really only do this for words here and there though. If someone’s gonna do more than that, I’ll just write that they speak in the language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Animorphs! I typed up Animorphs fic in like comic sans size fucking 30 or something and printed it out. I’ll never forget. That was in the late 1990s and my grandfather had just moved up from the printer that had the edges you had to tear off. So it was on this impressive pure white straight sheet of paper. So fancy and it had my giant ass fic on it. Only the best for my Andalite OC.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I’m still very fond of Naptime is Best Time after all these years. I think Sex and Therapy is gonna be special to me for being one of the longest chapter fics I’ve ever finished (I’ma finish it) because I’ve always been more of a oneshot person until recently. And Confessions will probably stay a favorite for a long time. So, yeah, I’ve just been happier with my recent stuff and being able to write fanfic again after so many years.

[marvel-redemption-omega]

Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter One: New Beginnings

A/N: So I have RDR2 beat to 85% completion (the compendium isn’t finished but the story section is) and I CRIED when my precious Cowboy died! I had high honor and helped John so there was that at least I suppose... This has eight parts so uhh be prepared for this. It’s a helluva ride. It follows the story in the game for the most part, I changed some missions and added in a few for my own personal reasons (OFC x Arthur) so yeah... Don’t worry, there’s gonna be a happy ending! I promise. I have a lot of the story already planned it’s just a matter of getting the next chapters cranked out. Also Hosea and Dutch are a thing in my eyes... Dutch never corrected nor denied Hosea when he said “the curious couple and their unruly son” soooo I took it and ran. 

I am from the south and I drop ‘d’s, ‘g’s and do a buncha (<- example) other stuff when talking irl so I’ve added that into the story and tried to keep the same type of dialect (is that the word I’m tryna think of?) as they have in the game with accents. I also am trying (and editing) the Irish accents I have for Sean and Molly! If you think anything can/should be changed, please lemme (<- another example) know! Or if you can’t figure out a word/phrase I’ll help or have it in parenthesis if I know some people might have a hard time getting the accent if they’re trying to speak it aloud to hear it for themselves (my friend does this occasionally).

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence (shoot outs/shoot ups/gangs,bushwhacking. etc), mentions of death/dead gang members

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 3,246

“Faster, Girl, faster! Go! We gotta get home before them!”

“You think you can outrun us? You owe us, Little Lady!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fancy, let’s go! Hyah!” She urges her horse on and leans forward, stirrups tied high on the sides of the saddle. The brown mustang tosses her head and breaks from her gallop to a flat out bolt. “Atta girl, c’mon.” The trees and rolling land all blurs as she and Fancy run along the road, she barely registers the white blip of a horse at the four way cross.

“Whoah!”

“Sorry, Mister! Can’t talk! Gotta run!” She turns slightly in her saddle to call the apology over her shoulder as her mare continues to carry her back home. The small band of people, behind the man she narrowly missed, watch her in curiosity.

“There she is!”

“Don’t lose sight of her again!”

“Try and cut her off before she gets over that hill!”

A group of seven men, each on their own horse, fly by as well, sparring not even a glance their way. The owner of the white stallion is stunned for a moment before he calms his horse and turns around.

“Bill, Micah, go after her and help with those damned O’Driscolls. We’ll continue on to get settled. Once we’re good, if they’re not back yet, we’ll go search for them. Come on,” he instructs and watches as aforementioned duo break off and tail the lady’s assailants.

“Dutch, why did you send them? You know how he acted with Mrs. Adler. Was it really wise to send both of them unsupervised?”

“Arthur, are you doubting me? We’re almost there and it shouldn’t take too awful long to set everything up so we won’t be too far behind them,” Dutch turns his horse back and clicks his tongue as they continue on.

“Looks like that was the last one, Ma. Want me to go start the bonfire?”

“Yes please, James. Take Fancy out to the paddock on your way. I left her hitched to the porch,” she answers and leans her gun against the wall. “I’ll get the horses that didn’t spook and start dragging these guys around back.” The boy runs out the back door and she can hear murmurs to her horse and the soft nickers in a sort of reply as he does as told. She sighs and opens her front door.

“Hello, Ma’am, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Seems like we didn’t need to come help.”

Two men push their way inside as she darts back towards her table, picking up a rope lying on it. She lassos one of them and yanks him to the floor, hog tying him as a shotgun clicks as it’s cocked. The other man holds his hands up at the boy who is aiming the gun at him, startling back a few steps.

“Bill! Don’t just stand there! Do something! Untie me!” the hog tied man grumbles as he rolls onto his shoulder to look at his friend.

“And end up shot or like you? No thanks, Micah. I’ll stay here,” he snips and glances down. She uses the moment of interruption to her advantage and lassos Bill too, dragging him closer before hog tying him as well.

“James, hun, go start that fire. We might have more than I thought,” she orders and takes the gun from him as he passes. He shoots a glare over his shoulder to the strange men and dashes out the back door.

Dutch and Arthur look at the house where Bill and Micah’s horses are grazing. Arthur gives him a pointed look, which Dutch sighs at. They climb down from their horses and lead them to the porch and try to quietly walk up, checking around them for any traps or followers. The door is slightly ajar and a women’s voice, the same from earlier, filters out.

“You two have some nerve. Now tell me, what does Colm want now? I done told him I ain’t joining his stupid gang and I won’t warm his bed. If you think that I’ll do it for either of you then you’ve got another thing coming and not even half a mind between the two of you!”

“Well, Darlin’, you might be right about that. There’s not half a brain betweenst those two, but I do take offense that too you think we’re with that dirty, yellow bellied scum, Colm O’Driscoll.”

“Who the hell are you?” A shotgun is pointed at the two newcomers, and Arthur’s lips twitch up as his and Dutch’s hands go up.

“Dutch Van der Linde and this here is Arthur Morgan. I sent Bill and Micah here to help you with those fools, after you nearly trampled me,” Dutch smoothly states, walking forward as he speaks. She backs up to the other side of the table and raises her brow.

“Ma! Ma! There’s two mo-” James freezes at the back door, eyes wide as all attention focuses on him. “They’re already here. What do you want with my Ma?! She ain’t got no money! She don’t want no dirty O’Driscoll!” He shouts and moves so he’s beside his mother, eyes narrowed.

“That’s a tough little boy you have there, Ma’am. What’s his name? And yours?” Dutch stands just on the other side of the table, hands still up, no move made to untie his men, nor is there anyone else in the house, and he hasn’t reached for his pistols either.

“James. His name is James. And I’m Scarlet. Scarlet O’Hara,” Scarlet lowers the shotgun and places it on the table. “So if you’re not with Colm, why are you here? My…” she hesitates and glances at James,” his father isn’t in trouble is he? He’s not part of a gang.”

Arthur and Dutch share a look, glance at the grumbling duo on the floor, and back to Scarlet. They shake their heads and James wraps his arms around his mother’s waist, head resting on her stomach. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and leans down to press a kiss to his mop of dark brown hair.

“Considering we don’t know his father, by name or otherwise? No, we aren’t here about him. When I realized you we’re running from O’Driscolls, I figured you might need help. So I sent these two men to try and help you; though from the looks of your yard and what you’ve done to poor Bill and Micah, well, you didn’t need our help.” Dutch has a way with words, Scarlett will admit that. He’s charismatic and charming, easy on the eyes too. She likes him.

“Well, Mr. Van der Linde, care to help me drag the bodies out back to the pit? We burn any ones that manage to get too close,” she offers and hands James a knife, motioning to the men on the floor. “Cut ‘em loose, but don’t cut them or yourself, James.” The boy nods and cuts the rope on their wrists and backs up to Scarlet, leaving them to cut the rope on their ankles. He sets the knife on the table.

“Damn woman put these too tight to slip out of,” Micah mutters under his breath as he slices through the rope on his legs. He gets to his feet and helps Bill up as well.

“I think we can help with that. Any chance of more O’Driscolls coming this way?” Arthur leads the group out the front door, glancing at Scarlet over his shoulder.

“Maybe. I planned on burning down the house and headed out tonight. I have a wagon down yonder with our stuff and a horse. I was gonna saddle up Fancy and Shamrock and sneak there with James,” she admits and ducks her head a little in embarrassment. Dutch studies her for a moment as they gather the dead men and move them to the backyard.

“I have an idea. You’re free to say no of course, but we could always use more people. We could help give protection to not only you, but to your boy too. James seems like a smart kid, we’ve got another boy just a little younger than him. I’m sure Jack would love to have someone his age to play and hang out with.”

Ooooh, curse this man’s charisma. He’s bound to know I’ll do anything for my boy. Curse him, Scarlet thinks, hesitating in kicking her guy into the small, dug out pit. James helps roll the guy down then busies himself with the O’Driscolls horses, leading them to the pasture as he talks to calm them. There’s kindling starting to catch the logs and clothed bodies of the dead already in the pit.

“I always said I’d never run with a gang, though I fear as I don’t have much other choice. Not now anyway. They won’t stop coming after me and it’s not like I can hide here forever. They’ll find me eventually. I can’t have that. They can’t find out about James,” she confirms, voice filled with conviction. She nods to herself and turns to face the four men. “Dutch Van der Linde, you have yourself a new member. Just tell me all I need to know.”

They finish up the litter of bodies as Dutch and Arthur list the rules of the gang and all it entails, or what they feel they can share around James, with some protest from Micah, then all head back inside. Scarlet ushers them to sit around her table as she fixes them lunch, sending James to feed and water the horses when he’s done with his plate, which he obliges without protest. She keeps busy by cleaning the dishes and packing them as the men talk amongst themselves.

When James comes back inside, having fed and watered the small groups’s horses too, Dutch suggests they head out. He volunteers Arthur to stay behind and drive the wagon when she decides to leave and join them. Scarlet thanks them and sends them on their way with a promise to not be too long with the last of the packing.

It doesn’t take too awful long to get three full double-saddlebags put on the horses. James is sent to lead all the horses to the fence and hitch them to posts in preparation of saddling. Arthur offers to help James and Scarlet nods in thanks as the males head out the back.

Once the trio of horses are saddled, Scarlet ties Shamrock’s reins to Fancy’s saddle horn so he doesn’t spook when she lights the house. She helps her son get into Fancy’s saddle and rubs the brown mustang’s nose, up the white blaze between her eyes.

“Stay, Girl. I’ll be right back. Calm,” she coos to the horse and steps away. Arthur is waiting in his saddle, Fancy’s reins in hand to keep her calm, though Scarlet is positive she won’t spook and tells him as such.

It takes less than two minutes for her to grab her hidden cash and light the bedroom on fire. She leaves the door open as she walks down the front porch and towards the five horses, two being ones from the O’Driscoll members. She climbs into the saddle and Arthur hands her the reins, James sitting in front of her.

“Let’s go get your wagon and then head out. I think we can make quick work of the trip,” he suggests and James tilts his head up to look at his mom.

“Can I ride by myself please?”

Scarlet bites her cheek and hesitates a moment before nodding and slipping from behind him. She unties Shamrock’s reins and tosses them over his head and neck before hopping to his back and adjusting in the barely used saddle. He startles a little but settles down once Scarlet gives his neck a pat and reassures him it’s only her.

“Alright. I’ll lead you to the wagon, and then we can tie those extra horses to the back side of it so they can’t run off. I can ride your horse or lead him back if I ride Fancy. James can ride in the back of the wagon. Shamrock will follow wherever his momma, Fancy, goes,” she plans, though she’s talking mostly to herself until the end, and walks Shamrock to the hitching post to take the reigns of the O’Driscoll horses. They toss their heads and nicker softly as she ties the reins to the horn, leaving plenty of slack so her legs don’t get caught. “That should do it.”

“Lead the way,” Arthur gestures for her to lead and watches as James clicks his tongue and Fancy prances up behind Shamrock. He follows behind the boy and mother, smile on his lips.

“You know, I gotta admit, that was some fine handling of gang members. You sure you’ve never ran with someone before?”

Arthur’s question startles Scarlet slightly and Shamrock spooks, prancing to the left and pulling the two tied horses with him. She rubs his neck and soothes him before straightening in the saddle and kicking him slightly. James lets the reins rest on the horn, hands rubbing Fancy down as he sings her praises.

“No. My brothers are part of one, or were. I’m not sure anymore, haven’t heard from them in awhile. My parents weren’t too happy bout it but they were grown and both could handle their own with the best of them. Last I heard from them, I think they was in Blackwater. But that were years ago. Long before I were even pregnant with James,” her eyes stay trained on Shamrock, blinking back the withheld tears.

The thoroughbred-mustang cross tosses his head and neighs at her discomfort, slowing from a gallop to a trot despite her order to sped up. He pulls enough so the reins are from her hands and he turns to look at her, nickering softly. Fancy speeds up to trot as close as she can beside them, gently nipping at Scarlet’s boot.

“Mama?” James inquires, concern and fear in his quivering voice. She slouches in the saddle, hand going slack on the reins. She leans forward and whispers something to Shamrock before sitting back, looking at her son with a sad smile.

“Just miss my brothers, your uncles….that’s all, James. I wish you coulda met them. I wish I knew what’s happened to them or at least where they are,” she admits and reaches into her shoulder bag. She drops one sugar cube into her right hand and leans forward to feed it to her stud. She holds her palm out for Fancy who happily eats it, then turns to each horse tied to Shamrock, coaxing them softly to take the sugar. She holds her hand out to Arthur who hesitates a moment. “It’s just a sugar cube, ain’t gonna poison your horse. I’d be stupid too,” she chuckles as he accepts the horse treat. His horse tosses his head as he pats his neck.

“Well, I guess you’re right. Can’t be too careful though,” he huffs a small laugh as he rubs his horse’s neck as it nickers happily.

“Mm. That’s the wagon, just ahead,” she nods to a wagon stashed between several trees and bushes. Arthur moves his horse to her other side to get a better look at where she’s pointing. It hadn’t been a far ride, and there’s a horse already tied to the front, pawing at the ground in wait.

“How did you get to own three horses? If you don’t mind me asking,” Arthur asks as they slow to a walk until they reach the tied wagon. Scarlet shrugs as she slips easily from the saddle and leads Shamrock to the back to tie him to one of the trees and undo the other horses.

“My mom. Fancy was hers. Well, technically my grandmother’s but when she couldn’t take care of them my mother offered to take them and well, when I was ready to leave she said I could have Fancy since she don’t ride no more. Said it would be good for her to be with someone she trusts and who would actually ride her and take care of her. She’s pretty old, thirty five or six I think,” she admits and kisses Shamrock’s nose when he puts his face in hers.

“Shamrock was born a few years after I was, so he’s roughly my age. Maybe five years younger. That,” Scarlet points to the horse on the wagon, “asshole is Shasta. He is a moody jerk who I sometimes have to fight just to put up for the night. I got him in a race. Before I were pregnant with James, I would race Fancy. Bets for money or horses were traded, depending on my opponent.

“So I beat the guy who owned him. I felt bad though cause Shasta was young then, only two at the time. His owner, a real rich prick, hit him in the face with the butt of his pistol. So I lassoed the guy off Shasta and hogtied him. Fancy just let me do my thing since she’s seen almost everything, my old girl.

“Shasta spooked so I tossed the guy on Fancy and caught Shasta, lassoing him and calming him. When I climbed into that man’s saddle, I swear he didn’t even have him broke, just listening out of fear. He immediately started bucking and kicking like crazy. I wore him down and tied him to Fancy so I could rid him of the horrid saddle. It was too big for his back! I beat the guy up a bit and yelled at him about his abuse of the poor horse and made him swear to be better. Then I looted the saddlebags and the guy for all he had on him and dropped him and his saddle on the side of the trail we were on after cutting his wrists free. I rode with Shasta tied to Fancy back to my old place and have had him since,” she recalls, chuckling at the memories of that day.

“Sounds like you like gettin into trouble, or at the very least, causin it. Should I ask Dutch to rethink this invitation? We don’t need any more trouble,” Arthur jests, climbing off his horse to help unsaddle the O’Driscoll horses.

“Nah. I’m not gonna be the cause of it. I usually just wind up pulled into it. We can change Shasta with these two so they can’t break away and run off on us. I’ll ride him and my two will follow. Unless you’d feel comfortable tying him to the back,” she rambles as she helps James into the back of the wagon before moving to help Arthur with the saddles.

“Two horses work better than one. I think I’ll let you handle unhooking Shasta though. Sounds like he’s a right brute when he wants to be,” he hefts a saddle and puts it in the remaining room in the wagon, ruffling James’ hair in passing. James sticks his tongue out at the man before clambering closer to the seat and waiting for them.

“Aha, yeah. You’re right. He’s a brute alright,” she chides and rounds the front of the wagon after adding the second saddle on top of the other one. “Go ahead and slip their bits out and I’ll settle Shasta, get him dressed in Fancy’s saddle.”

[theliterarywolf]

2019′s Animation Hidden Gems

So, another year has come and gone. And, in regards to animated content, we had a sizable smorgasboard of offerings both on the mainstream end and the Indie scene. 

I figured I would go over some of the ones that caught my eye that I don’t see many people talking about or, if they are talking about them, they’re focusing on shitty e-drama rather than the content in of itself. 

So, let’s begin!

... Just going to use a ‘Read More’ break due to the length of this post as well as spoilers for certain things within.

Tuca and Bertie

So, we’re just going to acknowledge the fact that Netflix’s cancellation of this show before it even had the chance to hit its stride (which coincidentally timed in with the team behind it, the same team behind Bojack Horseman, getting the rights to unionize -- but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence~) was one of the shittiest things they did this year, right? Right. 

Anyway, Tuca and Bertie was one of those shows that, while it took me a good few days to finally watch it (due mostly to Netflix burying this show underneath those damn Ted Bundy movies and that fucking Beyonce concert/documentary/what-the-fuck-ever), was definitely a front-runner for adult-centered animation this year. 

While the wacky animation styles can sometimes throw initial viewers off, by the time the series is halfway through you’re fully engrossed in how it helps to tell the stories this show wants to focus on. 

While, yes, the show was a little heavy-handed in one of the early episodes about women in the workplace (that whole scene of Tuca screaming obnoxiously in the board-meeting to signal that no woman had spoken in 30 minutes was kind of grating even though the message is sound), the series as a whole is a great change of pace in regards to having adult animation centered on/aimed towards women. The characters work great together, the sound design works wonders, and Netflix cancelling this show despite they themselves not promoting it is such a damn crime. 

My personal favorite part/episode: While the episode “The Jelly Lakes” was a great, poignant display of showing Bertie opening up about her past trauma and sexual abuse, the episode that I always resonate with during rewatches of this series is “Plumage”. The way that it tackles not only reconciling with addiction but emotional/psychological abuse and how it often comes from sources that are on the outside beneficial hits so close to home. The fact that it was handled with tact and respect while still being in this wacky world of talking bird-people was amazing. 

Sound and Fury

I... am just going to come out and admit it, my brain still hasn’t 100% wrapped around the ‘what does it MEAN?!?!’ aspect of this animated album but, damn it all, is it a feast for the ears and eyes. 

I honestly can’t talk about it too much because half the enjoyment comes from watching it for yourself.

My personal favorite part/episode: I can’t quite remember what the song’s name was, but visually it was the section that focused on the homeless veteran basically being left outside to die while the city is about to be decimated by a nuclear bomb. The fact that the segment shows everything, right down to how the cat he tries to rescue agonizingly burns to death when the bomb hits, has stuck with me.

Love, Death + Robots

Well, you guys didn’t think I was going to let 2019 pass without me gushing about one of my favorite animation anthologies of the year, did you? 

Seriously, I am so glad that Netflix has greenlit a second volume for this project because it really is the type of stuff I like to see: collections of vastly different stories using different mediums and styles. 

While two of the entries aren’t as strong as the others (”The Witness” and “Ice Age” freaking suck, don’t @ me), the bulk of the anthology is immensely strong and well-executed and no amount of people whinging about ‘myeh, it’s too sex-filled and violent~’ is going to ruin that. 

My personal favorite part/episode: The segment “Suits” still takes my award for best in show, but I still like the series potential of “Shapeshifters” and the attempt at cosmic horror in “Beyond the Aquila Rift”. 

Satellite City

I hate, hate, HATE that my initial exposure to Sam Fennah’s creative world, much like other people’s first exposure, was via that DAMN Nostalgia Critic review for The Wall!

But, in all seriousness, Fennah’s web-series as well as the book that he’s been working on are so excellently crafted. 

The character design: I’ve gushed so much about the character design that doing so again here would be a crime. But it really is wonderful seeing monster designs that think ‘monstrous’ first and ‘marketability’ second. 

The voice acting: everyone in here does an exceptional job with their performances and giving life to not only the characters but the world surrounding them. Seriously, they’re all amazing and I can only hope that their talents are showcased in other projects. 

The animation: the fact that it’s all done and rigged by one person is awe-inspiring enough but the way that Fennah works to make sure that the characters don’t stick out too much from their real-world sets is incredible. 

The writing: It would be so easy for a series like this to stick to wacky hijinks, violence, and toilet-humor, but no. We have excellently crafted, mature dialogue, we have incorporated world-building that doesn’t rely on exposition dumps, we have diction that rivals some of the commercial hyper-hits of the current year.

Seriously, I wish that more people watched this series; it’s so good..!

My personal favorite part/episode: This relies on some spoilers, but I have to talk about what I think the highlight of the series. While the episode “Slice of Life” gives a good display of the core cast in a day-to-day setting with Lucy Lacemaker giving an incredible monologue about the nature of life and immortality at the end, no where else does the work behind the craft of Satellite City shine more...

Than in Episode 20 - “The Order of Things”. Satellite City centers around the Kivouachians, a species of unworldly creatures who have been around for billions of years but, due to war and betrayal, lost their homeland and have been scattered across the Earth. 

During this war, many died, many were punished, many were tortured, and many were left to deal with horrific trauma and PTSD. 

While this episode has the connecting tissue of informing others that the series’ antagonist has escaped her prison, it also centers upon the heavy issue of destructive, toxic relationships and how people can let themselves waste away and decay just because they can’t find it in themselves to let go of something that may ‘make them happy’. 

We also get a dialogue from Lucy Lacemaker about the nature of art and imitation, but it’s simply the cherry on top of the sundae that the prior themes build up. 

... Seriously, j-just go watch the show; put has-been critics out of your minds and just go appreciate this series for what it is.

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss/Holidaze

God, I can only be in awe of and respect Vivienne for getting to the point that she has gotten to. Two well-received animated pilots, an adorable holiday special, industry ties, and a portfolio that surely can fill two phone books at this point. 

Seriously, though, Hazbin Hotel is great: an adult animated show with an interesting art style, engaging characters, and a world that I really want to see more of. 

Helluva Boss is great too! That show has a more intimate cast and less insanity so if the barrage of visuals in the prior turned you off, then the latter would probably be more your cup of tea. 

Finally, Holidaze is fucking adorable. It boggles my mind that people were getting upset at this special for coming out and doing something different when most complaints against HH and HB were ‘ugh, she really can’t do anything aside from “offensive people in hell are offensive because HELL, lol”’. Well, here you go! Something wholesome and cute and heartwarming!

Some people just want to bitch and moan, I swear...

My personal favorite part/episode: See, here’s where it gets tricky. I love the feeling I get from Holidaze. I love the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I love the setting/premise of Helluva Boss. 

But I wouldn’t want all of those things crammed together. 

So, all in all, VivziePop and her colleagues have done an amazing job with these shorts and I can’t wait to see what 2020 has in store for them.

Dororo (2019)

Look, man! I get it, okay?! When it comes to anime where the main character in a feudal-era Japan setting goes around killing demons, everyone and their grandma was gushing over Demon Slayer. 

And, you know what? Demon Slayer is a good show; it has really good animation and Nezuko is best girl. 

... But fuck ALL OF YOU who slept on Dororo (2019), man! I get it, Amazon having the streaming rights to it made it all sorts of awful to try and keep up with, but even so this show was way too ignored by people.

Which is a damn shame because in regards to revamping classic anime IPs, this is right up there in ‘damn, they actually did a good job’ along with Casshern Sins and Devilman Crybaby.

My personal favorite part/episode:

... Have I mentioned that the theme song for this show is an absolute BANGER?!

That’s all I have for now. I still have yet to watch things like Klaus and I Lost My Body, and I was unfortunately unable to watch Promare due to not having the funds for it when it was in theaters, and -- Oh my fucking GOD, I’m just now finding out that Netflix has Hey Arnold! The Jungle Movie after trying to find a way to legally watch it for ages. 

But I hope that I was able to introduce some of you to some animated pieces that got a little overshadowed this year. 

Here’s hoping for more amazing stuff to grace our eyes in 2020!

[itsybitsyspiderling]

don’t touch my stuff

find it here on ao3 !

Summary: Peter decides to take an old Iron Man suit out for a spin. Naturally, Tony finds out.

Words Count: 2.8k

“Mister Stark?” Peter calls, walking into––what seems to be––an empty workshop. He’s light on his feet, careful not to make too much noise while the older man recovers from a nasty cold that has riddled him useless. So far, he’s been out for three days and counting. A lousy three days.

Oddly enough, Peter’s been going out of his way just to contract the damn thing. His textbook immune system makes it impossible to miss a single day of school, and he’s tired. He just wants to sleep on the couch and eat nothing but toast while he watches Cartoon Network for several hours. Sure, he knows he could lie and pretend he has a sore tummy, but his unrelenting guilt would eat him up within the first hour. He would easily come clean before May could leave the house.

The workshop is a perfect reflection of how his mentor handles having an illness. A coffee stain the size of New York sits idle on his desk, and half-used boxes of tissues are littered across the room. DUM-E is currently in the process of cleaning up the discarded, crumpled-up tissues that have been there since the first wretched day.

One thing Peter wouldn’t have guessed about Tony is that he’s a complainer when he’s sick. Peter doesn’t understand why he––a sixteen-year-old with bigger problems like homework and acne––is left to take care of him. The man can’t go twenty minutes without groaning and moaning about his stuffed sinuses. Peter can’t stand it.

“Hello, Peter,” FRIDAY greets. “Boss is upstairs sleeping. Would you like me to alert him that you’ve arrived? I’ll be careful not to wake him too abruptly. We both know how he gets.”

Peter laughs and fidgets with a few stray tools on a nearby workbench. A lot of their old work has been left untouched since they last got together. Since they were both healthy and able to talk like normal people. Now, Tony’s been hopped up on NyQuil for three days straight.

“Um––nah, I’ll just hang out here for a while,” Peter says and smiles over at DUM-E. The robotic arm whirs back gleefully. “What’s his temp today, Fri?”

“99.8 degrees Fahrenheit,” she answers.

“Oh, good.” Peter crosses the room. “That just means he can finally get off his ass soon and help me for once.

“He’ll probably still be congested for about another week or two.”

Peter groans, head falling back as he trudges the floor. “I don’t think I can last another day,” he says. “Please don’t tell him I said this––it’s gonna sound really mean––but, God, he’s such a baby. I used to think I was bad when I got sick.”

“Believe me, Peter, no one can be as bad as him,” the AI affirms.

Peter settles down at Tony’s desk and shuffles through the stray papers on top. Letters, fan art, more letters, more fan art… Peter pouts. He wishes he could get fan art.

“He’d just tell me to suck it up, probably,” he mumbles, brain still on the topic of his mentor’s ailments. “I’d have t’suck it up and 'spidey up'––as he calls it, and then I’d pass out on the job, and he’d be all ‘Why are you on the floor? Why didn’t you just tell me you were sick, Peter?’ and ‘Why didn’t you stay home and have your lovely aunt make you a nice pot of soup?’ And then I’d be forced into saying that he told me so, when really, he didn’t. Like, at all.”

“Sounds like something he would do.”

Peter’s lips quirk into a small smile. He likes FRIDAY––he likes her sassy moments, and as much as he loves Karen, sometimes he needs that shift back down to earth. He also needs someone else that will poke fun at Tony when everyone else is afraid to.

“It is something he would do,” says Peter. “I twisted my ankle once, and he was like, ‘Well, that’s dumb, why would you do that?’—like I had a choice in the matter. Sometimes he just really—”

Before Peter can finish his thought, one of the monitors above Tony’s desk flashes. The word “Complete” blinks in bright green.

“Complete?” Peter sits forward. “What did I complete? Did I win something? I didn’t touch anything, did I?”

“You didn’t,” says FRIDAY. “The Mark Forty-Five has just received a new paint job.”

“Oh, cool.” Peter nods and, a beat later, states, “wait, but he doesn’t use that one anymore.”

“Boss likes to maintain a certain… look.”

Peter’s brows knot together as he thinks. Long and hard. And what he eventually thinks up turns out to be a terrible, terrible idea. A good terrible idea. “Interesting. Is—is that suit here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Mister Stark would notice if I took it out for a little spin?”

“I don’t even think the Boss can touch his toes," the AI replies. There’s hardly an inflection in her tone.

Peter hums. A familiar excitement bubbles in his chest. Sure, he’s thought about asking to wear the suit a million and one different times, but the idea of doing without Tony even knowing––Peter has never jumped out of his seat so fast. If Tony ever finds out, Peter is toast. But he won’t. Just a brief flight. Nothing could go wrong.

“You won’t tattle on me, right, Fri?” he asks.

“Of course not.”

“Knew I could count on you.” Peter smiles, but it falters as he stops in his tracks. “Wait––this is stupid. I’m stupid. Aren’t the suits coded to him?”

“Yes, but he has them coded to you, too.”

“What? Really?”

“He has them coded to all of his loved ones.”

Peter blinks. He blinks again. “S-say that again?”

“Boss has given his loved ones access to his suits in the case of immediate mortal danger,” she says. “That includes you.”

“Quit pullin’ my leg, Fri,” Peter half-chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “Just tell me I can’t use the suit.”

“I’m not pulling your leg.”

He rubs at his forehead and lets out a breath.

“Your body language suggests that you’re nervous.”

“Yeah, yeah, well––” Peter squints his eyes shut. “I mean, it’s Mister Stark. What if––what if he finds out? My head’ll be served for breakfast. A-and then he’ll take away Spider-Man, and Fri, I don’t know if I can––”

“Are you going to let fear dictate your life, Peter?”

His eyebrows raise at the question. Holy shit. He’s never heard FRIDAY speak so philosophically before. And she called him scared. He’s not scared––he’s just spending a little extra time making sure it’s the right decision, of course.

“No,” he mumbles, biting as his lip. “I don’t wanna do that.” Around him, provocative prototypes and unfinished creations await his final verdict. The bare bones of a gauntlet scream his name on a table to his right. Peter nods. “Okay. Okay. I’m doing it. Fri––oh shit, I’ve always wanted to say this––all right, let’s take this outside.”

Tony is in the middle of dreaming about fighting an army of robot dogs when FRIDAY’s voice intervenes. He awakes in a daze, torso slumped to the floor while his bottom half remains comfortably on the couch. There’s a tissue stuck to his hand, another flat on his t-shirt, and the pressure in his sinuses goes right back up to his head once he sits up.

“Oh, Jesus,” he groans out, clutching his forehead as he leans over his knees. “Wh-what is it? I was just fighting robotic French Bulldogs––and losing.”

“Peter Parker has asked me not to tell you that he’s taken the Mark Forty-Five out for a flight,” the AI replies.

Tony winces. Mark XLV. Gosh, he hasn’t used that one since Sokovia. It did a helluva fine job, but the memory makes him shudder. He’s successfully not thought about that battle since at least last week, and while it’s not as fresh as some of the others, the reminder still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Mister Parker doesn’t even know the half of what––wait a minute.

“Hold up. Say that again.”

“I’ve been told not to tell you that Peter Parker is out in the Mark Forty-Five suit.”

Tony sits up, and his sinuses flare once again. He doesn’t even react. “M-my Peter? Peter Parker?”

“Yes, boss.”

It takes a few seconds for Tony to stand, meanwhile, he clutches the sides of the couch to keep from passing out. He’s not sure if it’s possible, but he thinks he might have an iron deficiency. And, somehow, Peter Parker has everything to do with it. The stacks of homework, the near-death situations, the constant stress he’s put the poor billionaire under… there’s no question about it.

“And he asked you not to tell me?”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony lets out a breath. “Not sure where exactly your loyalty lies, but I’ll take it. What’s he––why is he––? Oh, I’m gonna kill him. Run me the live audio. Where is he?”

FRIDAY doesn’t answer. Instead, the Mark XVL’s live feed is fed through her operating system. The living space of the compound fills with static, wind, and the familiar, all-too-cheery, soon-to-be-dead-as-a-doornail voice of Peter Parker.

“All righty then, Fri––”

Tony furrows his eyebrows. That’s his nickname for FRIDAY. Son of a bitch.

“––let’s see what this baby can do––oh, shit!”

As the harsh sound of rattling, crackling, and somehow, buzzing, echo throughout the room, Tony rolls his eyes. He’s never been given the chance to forget how young the kid is.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t like that,” Peter says. “Let’s not do that again. Jesus, how does Mister Stark not get motion sick?”

“Cut the feed,” Tony urges. He isn’t sure how to handle his anger. He keeps it contained in his chest while his fingers claw at the couch cushions below him. The rest of his anger resides in his jaw. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m literally gonna kill him. Get me a suit.”

“Boss, your temperature has climbed to––”

“I don’t care,” he says. “Don’t fuckin’ care. I need a suit. I need t’keep my kid from killing himself before I kill him.”

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

“W-what?” Peter sputters. “No, no! Fri, don’t answer.”

“Declining call from Tony Stark.”

“Holy shit, thank you.”

Peter has learned three things since he left the compound as Iron Man nearly ten minutes ago. One, he’s not great with changes in altitude. Like, at all. Two, the suit is massively uncomfortable. He’s not sure how Tony can manage more than a half-hour without feeling claustrophobic. And three, Peter has never felt so cool in his entire life.

Ever since he can remember, he’s looked up to Iron Man. The hero has always been untouchable––almost unreal––prior to Germany back in ‘16. Granted, Peter has been a kid for that entire time, and kids think everything that breathes is awesome and larger than life. But with Iron Man, it’s been different. Iron Man has been an emotional crutch, something he could always trust. And now, he’s in the suit.

Peter can’t wait to tell Ned.

But––why did Tony call him?

“I think we’ve had enough fun for today,” Peter says, chuckling nervously as he figures out how to stop flying.

“Setting a course back to the compound,” FRIDAY states. “Do you want me to alert Tony that you’re on your way back?”

“What? No!” Peter’s heart jumps while he takes off soaring in the opposite direction. He’s tired, and he’s flown into too many trees. And he thinks he might have knocked a bird out of its nest earlier in the flight. “Shit, wait––does that mean he knows? Is that why he called me?”

“Your personal phone is not connected to the Mark Forty-Five’s heads-up display,” she replies.

“Oh,” Peter whispers. After that, he finally registers what she meant. “Oh. Oh no. Th-that means he called himself. He called the suit. I’m dead. I’m dead meat.”

“Incoming call from––”

“Don’t answer.”

“Override.”

“Parker.” It’s Tony.

Peter flinches, eyes screwing shut as he holds in a breath. “Hey, Mister Stark.” He exhales shakily.

“Hey, Mister Stark, yeah, okay––” Tony chuckles, but it’s not genuine. Not in the slightest. Even the soundwaves in the HUD look menacing. “Where have you been?”

“I’m out,” Peter answers, "on a stroll.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

He’s dead. He’s literally dead. He doesn’t know how he can lie his way through this, but hell, he’s going to try. “Honest. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Tony laughs again. It’s frighteningly evil. And congested. “Kid, if you’re somehow not dead by the time you get back, I may just kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, just watch me.”

Peter’s skin crawls at the sound of Tony’s voice. He’s dead. “Mister Stark, I’m––”

“Get your ass back here,” Tony says. “Now. We’ll talk then. FRIDAY, take him home. Turn off manual control.”

“Yes, boss.”

Before Peter can interject, the call cuts off and the heads-up display returns back to normal. His eyes well up, and his throat clenches as he tries to breathe through––what feels like––a straw. Under his breath, he mutters, “traitor,” but FRIDAY doesn’t answer.

Peter’s landing is rough, and it’s almost comical for Tony to watch. But nothing is funny to him, not right now. It was one thing when Rhodey took the suit some-odd years ago––it was Rhodey, a full-grown adult––yet Tony’s stomach twists at the sight of Peter under that faceplate. There’s anger, and then there’s something that many people know as heartbreak. Tony just doesn’t want to admit he is possible of feeling that type of thing. Peter has broken his heart more times than he can count.

“Mister Stark, I’m so––” Peter tries, eyes wide as the suit peels away from around him. He’s startled by the action.

“Nah, I don’t think you get the chance to speak first,” Tony says. He adorns a suit himself––spanking new nanotech that, surprisingly, feels comfortable. Like a second skin. “Did you even think about your actions, or did you just assume that it was a good idea?”

Peter shakes his head a few times. “No, no. I-I did think. I––”

“Yeah, clearly, you didn’t!” Tony waves his arms, and they drop back down to his sides. “Newsflash, kid. That suit costs more than yours tripled. If you had even scratched a finger––”

“I would’ve fixed it, Mister Stark,” Peter replies without a beat. “I would have repaired it myself. You taught me how. I wouldn’t have––”

“How did you expect me to react to this?”

Peter’s shoulders slump. “I didn’t think you’d find out,” he mutters.

Tony wants to laugh again. So this is what being a parent feels like. May deserves more credit than he’s given her. “If you think you’re such an ‘Iron Man’ expert, then you should’ve just made your own damn suit.”

Peter’s gaze drops. He accepts blow after blow without question.

But Tony, well, he just gave himself an idea.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted your own suit, kiddo?” he asks, feeling his anger slowly diminish by the second. And meanwhile, ideas of a possible “Iron Spider” fill his head.

“I-I––” Peter hugs his arms. “I dunno.”

Tony ponders. His excitement to tinker suddenly outweighs any irritation he once had. Of course, he’s still mad, but seeing the kid look so discouraged and defeated makes Tony’s heart do something weird. Maybe he does see the kid as his kid.

“All right, well,” he begins, lips twisting while he nods toward the compound, “get inside. Maybe we’ll brainstorm while we talk about how grounded you’re gonna be for the next ten years.”

Relief floods over Peter, and he chuckles. Together, they make their way back inside. The Mark XLV follows.

“Why are you in a suit?” Peter asks after a few seconds.

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Tony mumbles, tapping at the unit on his chest before the nanites trickle back into it. He sniffs, and suddenly he can feel the ache of his sinuses once again. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know if I was gonna have to chase after you or scrape you out of some crater you created because you fell five-hundred feet.”

“I actually think I did pretty okay.”

“Kid,” Tony says, laughing, “I saw you fly in. You definitely almost killed someone.”

Peter huffs and folds his arms. “Well, Fri said I was doing great for a first-timer.”

“Fri––since you insist on calling her that now––is a liar,” Tony replies. “And she definitely likes you too much. I think you’ve become her favorite.”

When he looks over, Peter is smiling.

“What?” asks Tony.

“Nothing.” Peter shrugs. “Just that you made her, and somehow, I managed to become her favorite. S’all.”

“Shut up.” Tony elbows the kid, and it pushes him back a few feet.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get,” Tony mocks. “Next time, don’t touch my stuff.”

[luckdogpuppy]

Why I Hate Electronics

In the old days we had ms-dos and had to fiddle with config.sys and himem.sys spending endless hours and sleepless nights trying to get the computer to run a program. Computers have come a long way since windows 95 but using them certainly hasn’t gotten any easier. I remember wondering back then why they couldn’t make a computer that actually worked, that actually figured out how to make itself work and work with other programs and devices…after all, it is a computer, isn’t it? No, instead they just get more complicated and mystifying. Now its modems and routers and ethernets and wifi that drive me crazy, and trying to cope with constant buffering when I try to watch Netflix. Who the hell can remember which remote to use to access the right button? And when you do find the right remote to access your tv who can figure out how to get to whatever it is you need to fix? And how many fucking passwords can a person remember? And passwords have to be more complicated every year. I can barely use my phone, flipping from one screen to another with my finger. It seems the only way to get out of certain screens is to shut your phone off and restart it. And nobody tells you this stuff…you have to figure it out on your own. Ever read the Microsoft manual? Who does? Just looking at the pages makes me scream. And even when you go to Youtube they go so fast you have to pause it every two seconds to write that shit down. I have endless sheets of paper in a drawer filled with step-by-step instructions on how to do computer problems. Why? Why can’t computers do these things by themselves? The last time I lost my internet connection I got all excited when I discovered this thing on my computer that told me it would run a diagnostic of my system and troubleshoot it. Wow, that sounded great. When I went there and ran it it said “you have lost your internet connection.”  

They say that computers can do everything, but they still haven’t given us a computer that can fix itself or even do something as simple as letting us plug it into a router without having to go through an eleven step process to get the damn thing to work. What pisses me off is that I know they could do this. I can’t even get my two wifi extenders to work. By some miracle I did get them to work for a while but one day they both just shut off and I haven’t been able to get them running since. I can’t get past the step where I’m asked for a password. It says I’m supposed to use the one on the back of the router. Well, what it says on the back of the router is “password: (leave the field blank)”. Except when I am asked for the password it won’t let me leave the field blank. Instead it says “your password is not long enough.” Then I’m told to go to my wifi icon on my taskbar to find out what the password is. But I don’t have a wifi icon on my taskbar. So I go online and find that there are pages on how to find and/or replace the wifi icon on my taskbar, and after going through all five of the different methods of finding and replacing that icon on the taskbar without success I learn that there is no way I’m gonna get that icon to appear on the taskbar because the Windows 10 system that came with my computer doesn’t come with a wifi icon on the taskbar; Microsoft removed that file in the latest version of Windows 10. I learn that I have to buy Windows 10 Pro to get that stupid wifi icon. Are you shitting me?

I finally did find an obscure site that explained a convoluted way to find out what your router and extender passwords were. You have to start with your command prompt to get there…but that didn’t help…surprise, those passwords there didn’t work either. And don’t even ask me how to go back there and look at those passwords again. It took me an hour to figure out how to get to my command prompt from my start menu. Hint: don’t left click like you’re used to doing. When you left click on the Start menu you are presented with a long and very impressive list of places to go, all in alphabetical order, and you would think that the “Command” prompt would be there under the “c” column. But no, there is nothing that says “Command Prompt”. No, you have to right click instead. You’ll find another list of places to go there. But even then there is nothing that says “Command Prompt.” You have to click on “run” for the command prompt to come up. There is a lot of shit you can do through the command prompt but nobody is going to tell you what the secret codes are that will allow you to do those things. It used to be easy to get to the command prompt. All you had to do was click on the “Start” button. But now they’ve decided to make this an hour-long quest to find it. I have all this shit written down on endless sheets of paper in that drawer. Truth be told this electronic world makes me tear my hair out. I hate it with a passion. What pisses me off even more is that I also love it…when it’s working.

I can’t even get my computer to recognize my own email address. I bought a new Dell desktop three years ago and still get a daily message saying that I need to fix a problem with my Microsoft account. So I periodically go through the process and change my password but no matter what I do I still get that stupid message. I even had Microsoft tech reps guide me through the process three times now yet I still get that same old message. And every time I try to access my Microsoft account I’m told “that email address is already used by a different account.” I deleted all my accounts and started over but the message still comes up…the problem remains. I’ve explained all this to those tech reps but nothing keeps that message from coming up. I even signed up for a different email address but that didn’t fix the problem either and now I have an extra “Outlook” email address that I never use and wouldn’t know where it is if I did want to use it. I think the problem started when I bought a new Dell laptop. I had to sign up for a Microsoft account then. But I didn’t care for the laptop and sent it back two days later and ordered the desktop…and now Microsoft still thinks that whoever owns that laptop has the rights to my email address and not me. I explained all this to those Microsoft tech reps but that didn’t solve anything either. Yeah, this stuff bothers me. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like loose ends. I like things to be neat and tidy and feel like everything is in its place. But this computer stuff feels all scattered and disconnected and just fucked up. I know it’s working on my mind even when I’m not struggling with it.

In order to fix my Netflix buffering problem (and my wife’s need to have internet access for her work-at-home job) I bought a new router. I’ve had the same old cheap router for 6 years so I figure its time for a new one. I did just buy a 40 ft ethernet cable that I plugged into the back of the router and ran it along the ceiling down the hall and into the back of the tv in the living room, but we’re still having problems with “Home not available” still coming up at times. I actually bought a new router last year; an Archer A7. But I was never able to get it to work so I had to send it back, thinking it must have been defective. I realize now that it probably worked just fine and that the problem was me…that I couldn’t figure out how to get it to work. Then I had a helluva time trying to get the old one up and running again. Did you ever feel that your brain was on fire and ready to burst? That was how I felt after struggling with those two routers for 3 days. So my new router came last week and it turns out it’s the same model; the same one I tried to set up and sent back last year. I thought it was a different one because it was called a Tp-link, but its actually an Archer A7 too. On the box it says it’s a AC 1900 and on the instruction sheet it also says it’s a MU-MIMO Wi-Fi Router, so just figuring out what these things are called is a science in itself. So now I’m frightened to death to even try to set it up. The first thing the instructions say is “if this” and “if that”…as if I know the answers to these ifs. There is also a long list of FAQs in case you have problems and need help. That scares the shit out of me, too, cause I know I’m gonna need help…and lots of it. Then it gives me three different methods of setting the thing up, all of them quite convoluted and requiring me to access various internet sites, SSIDs and wireless passwords. Then I have to go to a number url: 192.188.1.1 and I remember that this is where I had to go to get my extenders to work but I was never able to get those urls to come up. Then I found out that they only come up if you use Google Chrome, and of course there is nothing in the instructions that tells you you can only use Google Chrome. No, you have to find that out on your own too. So now I have to change my browser and come up with another password so I can access Google Chrome. I am so afraid that I will not be able to complete these steps correctly and that I will then have to struggle another two days to get my old router to work again that the new router is still sitting on a shelf two weeks later. I’m thinking that I should go to Best Buy and have the Geek Squad come and set up my router but I know I’ll have to listen to them explain their convoluted tech plan that will ask me to decide whether to get a one visit deal or buy a year subscription…and I know one visit will not fix all my loose ends. And it makes me wonder if that is the reason why computers intentionally aren’t made to fix things.  

Oh, by the way, I’m sitting here writing all this down with my Microsoft Word, and now I find that I am unable to save what I’ve written because I don’t have a subscription to Word any more. I guess my free time is over. God, don’t you love it? You can’t even buy a computer with a simple word processor in it without having to pay a yearly fee to use it. Next thing you know somebody will figure out how to put a chip under your skin that measures how many breaths you take so they can charge you for the air you breathe.  

Dear Lord, if reincarnation is real please let me go to a world that is either before computers or way beyond computers. Or better yet, where computers and routers and extenders actually use a computer so they can work together.      

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: cursing, substance, a bit of angst

Pairings: Sam Drake x OC

Author’s note: I started to write a thing.... I wanna see where it goes! Please tell me if you like it! I’m genuinely curious lol

Chapter 1

Sunny’s POV

I sighed, knocking on the hotel door as I adjusted the weekend bags over both my shoulders, hoping that Nathan fucking Drake hadn’t once again called for me just to do research. Or to break into or solve something… My best friend had a tendency to call and have me leave at the drop of a hat for something I could’ve done from my computer at home. Nate liked to call me “Brain” sometimes because I could solve most puzzles and mechanisms he got stumped on during jobs. Any time he had a robbery job, I was that voice in his ear telling him where to go and what to do. Lights out? I’d handle it. Bypass security? I got you. I even assisted on treasure hunts sometimes. I was good with hand to hand combat and weapons. And none of this was legal by any means but it was a job. Better than the one I currently have…

I shook the thoughts of doubt quickly as the door knob began to twist. I crossed my arms raising a thick bit shapely brow when he opened the door. “Sunny!” He exclaimed, embracing my teeny frame in his hefty arms. I returned the hug reluctantly, rolling my eyes and lazily patting him on the back.

“What do you want, Nate?” I asked tactlessly, my voice thick with a southern drawl.

“Oh, c’mon! You’re not still mad about-”

“Yes, I’m still mad about it, Nathan!” I exclaimed but he placed a few fingers over my mouth to shush me and hurried me inside the room.

“Shut up! People can hear you out there!” He said, closing the door behind me as I stared at him incredulously. Standing in the room was that sweet old man that I’d recognize anywhere. A smile crawled across my lips as I set down my bags by the couch and opened my arms to him.

“Sullivan, you son of bitch!” I laughed as we approached each other.

“Get over here, kid!” He said, ashing out his cigar and hugging me with a tight familial hug. “How are ya, Sunny?”

“Same ol’, same ol’. Jet’s got me workin’ the bar and waitressin’ now mostly. Way better than stage in my opinion. A couple of hecklers with wanderin’ hands now n’ then but…. nothin’ I can’t handle!” I smirked with a simple shrug. He huffed and shook his head.

“I do really wish you’d find somewhere else to work. It’s no place for a smart woman like you.” He told me, sitting back down at the table with a grunt.

“You n’ I both know why I can’t do that, Sully…” I said softly, looking into his blue eyes helplessly. He sighed, nodding.

“I know…” he said solemnly and I placed a consoling hand on his shoulder before noticing the man outside on their balcony, smoking a cigarette. Nathan approached me as he noticed my stare and leaned in.

“So… long story short…… that’s my brother…” he told me carefully and I gasped. I looked at him with my big brown eyes, covering my mouth.

“Get out- really?!” I exclaimed in a hushed tone. He nodded. I shook my head in disbelief. “You had a brother?! This whole time and you never told me? Me?!”

“If it makes you feel any better, Elena doesn’t know either…” he spoke with a look of guilt as he looked down and played with the cuticles on his fingers. I gasped again and punched him in the arm. Hard.

“You haven’t even told your wife?! Nathan-” I began but he waved me off.

“Yeah, Yeah, I know: I’m a piece of shit.”

I scoffed. “So...what’s this all about?” I asked just as his brother had turned around. My stomach lurched as his eyes met with mine for a brief second and Nathan pulled me over to his room to explain.

“Did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah I brought the stuff- now stop bullshittin’ and tell me what’s goin’ on! You got me all the way out here in Italy for why?!” I snapped beginning to lose my patience. And I didn’t have much. He explained to me the story of his brief time in a Panamanian jail and how he thought his brother had died years ago. My eyes widened with every detail and eventually I leaned against the dresser with my arms crossed; just trying to digest all that he told me. “So…. Rafe Adler, killed a guard and Sam got stuck doin’ the time while you got away? How’d he get out if they had it in for him so bad…”

“He escaped with his cellmate, Hector Alcázar, who’s some big mafia figure. He had arranged a jailbreak and wants half of our findings as payment for Sam’s freedom.” He said worriedly. I stared at a dirty spot in the shoddy carpeting and nodded my head, fidgeting with my fingers. This was indeed a lot to take in.

“And you need my help for this?” I asked.

“I didn’t know who else to call...” He said knitting his brows together. Obviously, I was going to help him. He was my best friend and I’d do anything for him. Helping him save his brother was the least I could do for all that he’d done for me in my life.

“Well first… I need a drink…and a cigarette…” was all I could come up with in response. I slipped by my best friend and went back to the common area, pulling a stick from the packet in my jacket pocket with my teeth, my bestie trailing at my heels. Sully and Nathan’s brother sat at the table holding a casual conversation, huddled over the table with their drinks as I entered the room, lighting the cigarette and placing my hands on my hips. They both looked at me as I sat down at the table and poured myself a drink. I looked directly at Sam, his hazel eyes widened as I gave him the meanest mug possible. “If Nate gets hurt by this… in any way other than a bruise or a scratch, so help me God, I will kill you before Alcázar gets the chance. Do I make myself clear… Samuel?” I said, pointing my burning cigarette at him, my eyes never wavering as I leaned into the table. He blinked at me and nodded as Nathan sat down to join us, maps, papers, and books in his hands.

“And she means it, boy…” Sully added cautiously.

“Crystal.” He responded simply, a Boston accent dripping from his lips.

“Fantastic. Now… what’s the plan?” I asked as the younger Drake placed everything on the table before us.

“I guess we’ll bring you up to speed.” Nathan said with a small smile.

After about an hour, I was caught up to everything going on and we planned our strategy to steal the St. Dismas cross from the Rossi Estate auction happening in three days. Everyone began to peel off to catch some shut eye, except the eldest Drake. He walked off to take a smoke break and I was inclined to join him after I’d finished my drink. I took a long hard look at him as I sat alone at the table. He was tall. But I was super short so everybody seemed y’all to me. His shoulders were broad, his chest and arms strapped tight with muscles. His thick brown locks were pushed back off of his face. I’d almost call him attractive if I weren’t so pissed at him for dragging Nathan into this. He seemed okay talking around the table but something just didn’t sit right with me. Like he was hiding something. ‘Imma figure out what eventually….’ I thought as I stood to have another cigarette. I walked over to the concreted railing to stand uncomfortably close to this brother without a word. It didn’t take long for him to attempt to break the awkward silence. “So how long have you known my little brother? Y’know what's your story?” He asked.

“I went to MIT. Graduated, life got hard afterwards and I ended up moving back to Texas doin’ office work. Which sucked.” I began and he let an amused chuckle escape his mouth before taking a quick drag. I smirked as I continued. “To spice things up, I kinda sorta maybe hacked into the company’s funds and…. I’m sure you can imagine how that shit turned out. I had to leave town; got a whole new identity, met Elena at a gym randomly. Then I met Nathan through her. We’ve been friends ever since. He calls on me for a few jobs and some assistance once in a while.”

“And what is it that you’re doing here? No offense, sister, but I told Nathan I don’t trust anybody on his contact list with my life and I don’t know you from a can of paint.”

“And I don’t know you. But I’ve known your brother for the better part of 15 years so I don’t think you have any rights in questioning my abilities because I don’t have to help you.” I fired back, crossing my arms as smoke exhaled from my nostrils. He raised a thick brow and chuckled.

“You got spunk, lady. I like it.” He put out his cigarette and adjusted his pants. My nostrils flared up as I took deep controlled breaths. I never met a man sassier than me but I guess I couldn’t say that anymore. “We’re doin’ recon in the morning. I suggest you get some sleep.” He smirked heading to his room and closing the door, leaving me with the couch.

“Dick…” I mumbled to myself as I tossed my cigarette over the balcony and started towards the couch. I landed on it wondering if I was supposed to be here. I found myself wondering that a lot lately. After every job, I always felt a sense of slight fulfillment. It never lasted long though. I was never satisfied and always looking for a job to do. If it weren’t for Nate, I’m sure I’d be in a helluva lot more trouble than where I was. It was that thought alone that made me feel like I was okay. I was going to give 110% to help him save his brother. Then we’d be even. I let myself drift off as the whiskey began to take effect, falling into a drunken, dreamless slumber.

Read More on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472005

[foxrun-fluffery]

The Greatest Distance

Summary: Thorin’s company is displaced in time by Gandalf, due to an emergency. They land in front of country girl Piper and her son. After recognizing them, mostly, she realizes that in no way can they be left on their own in this modern world, and now she has to cope with some of the strangest house guests ever!

Tag List: @sdavid09, @fallnangelcreations @sherala007 (I tried)

CHAPTER FOUR

READ FROM BEGINNING | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Dinner and a deconstruction

By the time the meat was cooked, and the potatoes mashed, Piper realized she had lost track of the dwarves milling about her property. Riordan and the three youngest were still out in the yard, having fun. Riordan had gotten Fili, Kili, and Ori into a game of tag. Through some careful chit chat with Bombur and Bilbo, she had discovered that the company had not yet encountered the trolls, but had dealt with the rain she recalled Dori referring to as a ‘deluge’ and the wizard telling Bilbo about the other four wizards. She realized the poor hobbit had little time to endear himself to the dwarves yet, aside from filling their stomachs on that first meeting. They hadn’t yet met the brown wizard, nor the elves. As she could recall, Thorin’s attitude did shift after Rivendell or Imladris, she did like the elvish name for it, but imagined the dwarves would not. Not that she would mention it, thinking it only as a passing thought.

Seeing a figure pass by the doorway, she leaned out, “Oh, Gloin! Could you please let everyone know dinner is about ready?” That certainly seemed to get him perked up and trotting quickly out the door. “Bofur, could you give me a hand with the table?” “Aye, settin’ it then?” He asked, getting up from where he had sprawled on her overly plush sofa. It was comfortable, and he was regretting that Thorin had already staked it out as his bed for their stay. While Piper had guest rooms, she said they would have to wait until she emptied the stuff she had stored in them out. For tonight the floor would do. He hurried to her side, smiling brightly up at her. Some part of his brain had always regretted the height of human females, but this time he found he didn’t mind it at all. No, even her strangely short and brightly colored hair wasn’t at all disconcerting. It fascinated him, like a cut gemstone.

“Nope, gotta put the leaf in, otherwise we’ll never fit everyone in here.” Piper quickly guided him through adding the extra sections to the table, and was rather amused by his curiosity about the extended table. She grinned as he crawled under it to inspect the mechanism, and how he watched as all of the pieces fit together. In all likelihood she had just changed the way tables were made in Middle Earth from now on. Then she went to get the dishes out, humming a little tune as she did.

“Ah, do ye sing, lass?” Bofur asked curiously, having finished his examination of her dining table, he had appeared at her side.

Piper jumped slightly, realizing she was quickly adapting to the loud steps of the dwarves she hadn’t really taken notice of him coming up on her. “Me? Ehh… not a whole lot. Mostly just lullabies for Rio, though he’s starting to outgrow them. Anymore he only wants me to sing for him when he’s sick.” Her smile was a touch sad, for she felt, as most parents did, that her little boy was growing too quickly. “He’s so independant already.” She sighed, bittersweet.

Bofur reached out to take a stack of plates from her, and he lightly set his hand on her forearm. “He’s a good lad, that boy. Ye have every right t’ be proud o’ him.”

“Growing up with just me to raise him, he’s had to learn a lot, and fast.” Piper’s expression softened under his touch, and she nodded gently. “He’s bright, he likes working with his hands, there’s a whole bunch of old tools in the shop that are his, he’s always tinkering with bits and pieces of things. My grandpa sort of hoarded everything, so Rio’s had a lot to experiment with.”

This made Bofur laugh, grinning brightly. “Aye, he’d make a great dwarf then!”

Smirking, Piper eyed him, “That’s a helluva compliment.” There was a moment, she and he held each other’s gaze. He was admiring her, and she was studying him, wondering what he thought, how she and her boy seemed to the dwarves. “With luck, anything he learns from you guys will be positive.”

“Aye!” Bofur mocked indignance, “How could it no’ be?!”

By then others were drifting in, attracted by the smell of the roasts cooking. Each member of the company was happy to lend a hand in setting the table. Though Piper wasn’t certain she appreciated their method, she wasn’t surprised by it. Claiming herself a spot out of the way, she watched her plates being tossed and flung through the air, along with the silverware. Someone, she thought it was Nori, starting humming a light tune, and soon the others were humming or wordlessly singing along. She realized they were using the beat of the song to keep track of each other’s movements. How ingenious!

Riordan had come in near the end of the table being set, Balin keeping a hand on the boy’s shoulder so he didn’t dash right into the middle of it. Still the boy clapped along and cheered when they were done. “Momma, can we set the table like that all the time?!”

Piper barked a laugh and shook her head, “No way, half-pint, I can’t afford the dishes you’d break!” With a grin, she jumped forward, sweeping the four year old up and onto her hip, tickling his ribs and making him shriek with laughter. “Okay, young man,” she set him back on the ground, hiding a wince from him. He was getting far too big to be carrying about like that. “Go wash up.”

The boy gave his typical groan, but he ran off to the bathroom to do what he was told, a few of the dwarves, and the hobbit, following suit. Some of the older or more stubbornly set in their ways ones stayed and took their seats at the table.

Piper, Bombur, and Bofur all brought trays of food over, while upon his return from washing, Bilbo managed the numerous bottles and containers, in a quick dash back and forth, of things Piper told him were condiments. He’d never seen bottles like that, nor had he heard of a few of the things she set out. Whatever “sour cream” was, though it sounded wholly unappetizing even to a hobbit, she insisted it was set on the table, along with the bacon crumbles she had cooked off, and the diced chives. He also was directed to a big bag of shredded cheese, and a bottle of “ranch dressing” as the woman told him that was the only way Riordan would eat his potatoes. That was a shocker to the little hobbit. Someone who didn’t like potatoes!?

Once they had everything set, with glasses of water, much to the disheartenment of the dwarves, everyone sat down. Thorin sat at Piper’s side, as everyone insisted she had the head of the table. Riordan naturally was at her other side, and the others filed in. Bombur was more than happy to cut the food, after giving her serving utensils a good looking over and an approving nod. Though the dwarves seemed to take their food in a rather raucous fashion, Piper insisted that Riordan use his best manners still.

Bofur, who was sitting on the other side of Riordan, reigned in his jovial eating habits to set a good example for the boy, though he did so in a playful way. Sometimes he would be so polite it was very clearly over the top, and other times he’d challenge the boy to cut his meat in certain sizes and shapes, keeping him from cramming huge mouthfuls in after he saw the look of disapproval from his mother at one particularly giant bite. At the boy’s insistence, he gave the ranch dressing a try on his potatoes and had to agree that it did make them a great deal better. However, he had bargained with the boy that he would try the ranch, if Riordan would eat chives on his potatoes.

Piper smiled, watching the dwarf and her boy, wondering for the hundredth time throughout the last four years, how life would have been different if they’d have a more normal family. But then again, normal wasn’t really their thing. She turned to Thorin, smiling pleasantly. “So, have you got everything figured out for wood cutting? I can always run in and get things we’d need.”

“We?” He mused, arching a brow at her as he chewed his roast.

“Of course! I grew up cutting wood, you don’t think I’d make you do it all yourselves!” Piper scoffed, shaking her head at him with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “I told you, I’d do what I can to help all of you here.”

Canting his head slightly, in a grateful nod, Thorin smiled. “I appreciate that. We will need your guidance to make sure we’re doing the job acceptable to the standards of this world.” He looked to his plate then and then back up, “This is a fine meal, we’re very grateful.”

Piper blushed, “Well, Bombur and Bilbo were both wonderful help getting it prepared.” She turned and found her fellow cooks at the table and smiled at them. “Bilbo is quite good with his seasonings, even I’m impressed, and I usually everyone says I’ve got a good sense for flavors.”

Bilbo’s cheeks, too, pinkened, “It’s nothing really, just some things my mother used to use when I was growing up.” He cast a warm quick look at Riordan. “I’m just happy to pass them on.”

The woman chuckled, “Oh yes, I’ve written down everything you used, I’ll be doing my best to copy it in the future.” She lifted her head a little, hearing amongst the soft and less than soft chatter at the table, someone bemoaning the lack of mead or ale. She noticed that Thorin had heard it too, and she grinned, “You know, if anyone here drank so much at every meal, they’d be written of as an alcoholic. You dwarves must have one hell of a constitution.”

The king cracked a smile, venturing even to laugh. “That we do. It’s probably best your kind do not try to keep up,” He told her with no malice, it was simply fact to him. Men could not drink like a dwarf. “We have a greater appreciation for well crafted ale, is all.”

Piper let the conversation fall for a while, as everyone filled their stomachs. She spoke up after a while, addressing the king once more. “Without risk of offending anyone, can I ask a question about dwarves? There are few details known and a number that are suspected, but we’re not certain.”

“Very well,” Thorin wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back in his seat, his meal eaten and his stomach filled comfortably. True, all of them could eat a good deal more, but this was enough to satisfy for now. “What do you wish to know?”

“Do dwarvish braids have meaning?”

The king’s brows rose, and he was surprised that details such as that had filtered to this world. “Yes, they do. The braids and the ornamentation on them.” He motioned his own, “Mine display that I am warrior, this,” He indicated a decorated clasp behind his ear, “bears the crest of my house.” He motioned for Fili and Kili and both turned to show their own clasps that looked very much the same. “Had their father been alive, he would have made those for them. In his absence I crafted them myself.”

“And mine,” Gloin piped up then, taking cue from their leader that it was acceptable to speak about it, “Show my standing in the banker’s guild.” He motioned to the evenly spaced braids in his beard.

Dwalin puffed, his shoulders square as he held his head up with pride. “I mark my braid with victories in battle.”

“So you choose what you wear then, or is there a sort of baseline?” Piper had leaned forward, looking at each of them as they spoke, noticing their pride.

“Everyone chooses what they want to represent, what they take pride in, or what means the most to them.” Thorin explained.

Dori grinned, pointing to his youngest brother. “Ori has started his set of braids in the scholars guild.”

The young dwarf in question smiled sheepishly, and tilted his head to show the braids in his own hair and beard. “I’d like to earn a warriors braid too.”

“Oh hush you’re doing quite fine!” Dori admonished, not liking the thought of his brother in danger such as battle.

“I’m sure you’ll do great things, Ori.” Piper smiled reassuringly to him, glad to see his smile grew more confident.

“And this one,” Gloin spoke up again, “Me wife an’ I braided on our wedding day! This she crafted for me!” He showed her a slim braid that was nearly hidden in his bushy hair, and an intricately detailed bead that bound the end. “She has one I made of course.”

“That’s beautiful, Gloin. I can see she really loves you, so much detail!” Piper exclaimed, rising a little to lean across the table and see his bead clearly. She didn’t miss the way his eyes misted. “I’m sure she misses you just as much as you miss her.”

“Aye.” He said, quietly, and he ran his finger over the bead before he tucked it away into his wild hair again. Although he was misty eyed, he had a warm smile on his face, and his brother was watching him fondly, as were a few others. They all appreciated families and the like, even if most dwarves never married.

Nori caught Piper looking towards him next and he pursed his lips, clearly not sharing, yet he gave her a wink.He grinned at her smirk, seeing the determination growing in her eyes.

“I want braids!” Riordan piped up suddenly, looking around at everyone, and smiling when it started an uproarious laugh around the table.

“Maybe, if you had enough hair,” Dwalin chuckled, amused at the boy’s declaration.

The child had a very short cut, that wasn’t even uncommon among dwarven children. As much as they did like their hair, until a child was old enough to help wash, and to keep their hair from getting sticky and messy things tangled into it, short hair was not unseen. It wasn’t until a child was around eight or nine that their parents allowed their hair to grow, by then the little dwarfling was mature enough to take care of it to a degree. Their mothers still tended to the most of the care, in particular the brushing and braiding, but the children could help wash it then.

Riordan pouted, looking around at the dwarves at their table. “How long does it take to grow?” Piper chuckled, “If you wanna grow your hair out, it’ll be a while.” Knowing her boy he’d change his mind four times before it was ever long enough to do anything with. “But remember the last time your hair got long?” Riordan looked down at his plate, nodding quietly. He remembered. Oh did he remember. It had only been a couple of months ago. Thinking about it, he reached up and rubbed the side of his head. “Yeah…”

Piper caught a few curious glances and explained, “He got a sticky candy stuck in his hair when he fell asleep on it. And that’s why we had to cut his hair all off.” She chuckled, seeing her boy still pouting about it. “I think that was a lesson well learned.” Seeing everyone had just about finished up, she rose, startled when a number of them started to rise too. Ah, old fashioned manners. “Settle down boys. I’m just gonna go get us some tea.”

“Momma, can we have a soda?” Riordan asked, sounding as sweet and hopeful as he could.

“What’s soda?” Kili asked, looking from the boy to his mother.

Hearing his question, and the way the others gradually fell silent, Piper knew the dwarves behind her were all waiting for her answer. Quickly she debated a few factors, how much soda she had, and the risks of giving the dwarves caffeine.. .eh, you only live once! “Yeah, kiddo, sure.”

“Root beer floats?”

“Now you’re pushing it.” Piper laughed, shaking her head at her son and going to get the case of soda she had in the walk-in pantry. She distributed cans to the dwarves, setting one the table before each, quietly got their attention with a hand held up, then demonstrated how to pop the top on the cans. The dwarves, to her amusement, followed suit in a split second, and then there was a mixed reaction after that.

Nori, Balin, Gloin, Dwalin, Bifur, Dori, and Oin all stopped to sniff their drink first. Thorin and Bofur were both looking at Piper, though with very different expressions. Bofur seemed almost to forget he had a drink, and Thorin waited to say a polite thank you, before he raised his can to sip. The rest of the dwarves however, instantly went to chug their drinks. Most of them got the wonderful sensation of bubbles up the nose, and they stopped to clap hands over their noses, objecting in either language. And Nori gave a fine belch, but Kili outshadowed him. Riordan, feeling it was, this time, acceptable, followed suit and got a cheer from some of the dwarves for his attempt. But it was, as had happened before, Ori who won the prize. All the while, the quiet hobbit was grimacing at the belches and sipping as politely as he could, though he kept having to stop to rub his nose, looking mildly amused at the tickle.

“Mighty unusual drink, this!” Balin said, sniffling and rubbing his nose. “It’s got bubbles in it like nothing else!” He did seem to be enjoying it though. In fact, not a one of the dwarves had stopped drinking their soda for long.

“There are tons of flavors, but we just have this one right now. It’s very sugary, so we don’t drink it very often.” Piper explained. “Glad you all like it.” Then she rose to start clearing the emptied plates, but found a hand on her wrist. She looked up, surprised, at Thorin.

“Allow us. It’s very kind of you to prepare the meal, and offer your home. The least we can do is help clean up.” Thorin gave the others a pointed look, and soon Piper was privy to a clean up scene not too dissimilar to the one from a certain movie. Though, as when the table had been set, they only hummed a tune, rather than setting to a full song. Bombur, having learned how the sink worked, no longer got to polish off leftovers, but was in charge, with Bifur, of washing plates.

Riordan was sent off to wash up, as he had ranch dressing all over his face. He didn’t return, instead going to his room to play for a while, before his mother stuffed him into pajamas and sent him to bed.

Once dinner was cleaned up, for it was simply a matter of doing the dishes, as there were no leftovers at all, the dwarves settled in, sitting around the den. A few started to pull out pipes and flint, and their tobacco pouches. Only Bofur saw Piper grimace at the sight, though she didn’t actually forbid them. He looked down at his pipe in his hands that he was filling just then. Did the people here not smoke at all? “Uhm… is it… is it alright, lass, if we smoke?”

“Mmm yeah, just not on my white couch, okay? Even the best cleaners don’t get the smell out all the way.” Piper also didn’t want any pipe ash ground into the fabric. “Alright, if you guys are good for now, I should go get some more work done on this project I’ve got going. Should be a nice big payout if I can get it working, but the deadline is coming up.”

Bofur smiled kindly, nodding his head, “Best o’ luck t’ ye, lass.” He watched her as she walked out, his gaze lingering, his pipe forgotten. Until he heard a snickering from the young princes. Then he turned and saw most of the others were looking at him. “Oi! Mind yer own!” He waved them off, trying to hide the way his face heated up. “Pesky nosy lot o’ ya…”

“Oi, Nori! I didn’t get you those fancy sleeves to get them all greased up! How did you even manage that?!” Dori griped, looking at the smudges on Nori’s intricately stitched sleeves. “What did you get into to make that mess?” Nori ducked his head, looking down at his sleeves. Sure enough there was a smear or five of dark grease on them, that could almost be mistaken for orc blood, if it wasn’t for the smell. “Uh, we just looked around… kind of well… come see.” Grabbing his brother’s wrist, he pulled Dori up and out of the room to the front door. Ori, Balin, Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bombur, Oin and Gloin all followed along, either part of the guilty party, or very curious. Nori lead them to the garage beside the house, thinking it was some sort of workshop. There he pointed to some sort of deconstructed contraption. “See? We uh… well we got a little carried away.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, shuffling his feet from side to side.

“Lad… ye have to put it back t’gether.” Oin grumbled, “It wasn’t yers to take apart!”

Gloin coughed, knowing he had been a part of the trouble. “We didn’t mean to, it just looked… useful.”

Balin sighed, shaking his head, “Of course it was useful, for whatever purpose it had before!” He rolled his eyes, not to unlike what his brother might have done. “Do any of you remember how it all went together?” “I think we lost a couple of parts…” Nori admitted. “Fix this!” Balin insisted sharply. “Before the lass finds out.” He turned and headed back to the house, stroking his beard irritably. “Curious bunch of half-wits,” he mumbled as he walked back in the front door. What were they thinking!? His thoughts must have been obvious, both his brother and their king approached him.

“What have they done?” Thorin asked, his voice low as the three stood, huddled, Dwalin at his shoulder looking stern.

The elder dwarf sighed heavily, “Seems they found some machine in the workshop and have taken it apart, and lost a piece, and it seems they don’t quite know how to put it back together.”

Thorin grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. “Balin, Dwalin, go supervise them. I’ll… talk to Piper about it.” Huffing, he turned, knowing the two brothers would be just the motivation the rest needed to fix their mess. He descended the basement stairs and followed the short hallway to the room he saw a light in and knocked, then he heard her call to him, so he opened the door. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, she was curled up in a chair, in front of a flat slab that stood upright on a stand, tapping away at a panel of little buttons. “Piper?”

“Mmm just one second okay? Kinda… middle of… numbers….” She typed away furiously, trying to remember the sequence as she entered it. Not realizing she had just asked the heir to the crown of Erebor, the wandering king of the dwarves, to wait for her.

The heir in question didn’t mind at all, he was looking around the room, studying everything. There were a ton of electronics, which he didn’t recognize of course, and schematics on the walls to great vessels, but by the design he couldn’t comprehend how they could float on water. What even was a turbolift or a power nacelle? This Enterprise vessel was a strange one. Then there were pictures in frames. They were so clear he almost expected them to come alive. But there was Piper, Riordan, and a number of people who looked similar to them by their features, so he guessed they were her family. He found himself looking closely at them, smiling when he could see they were clearly enjoying themselves in each picture. Nowhere were there any formal portraits, but daily life images, smiles and fun and memories. It made his heart happy to see such things, but at the same time he ached for the dwarves lost when Erebor fell, and the hardships that fell upon them after. There were few smiles and happy memories made then. He quietly prayed to Mahal, not certain his prayers would be heard, that this kind woman and her precious son would never face such hardships.

“Oh! Thorin! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait!” Piper turned her chair to look at him, blinking owlishly. “Is something wrong? You okay? Do you guys need anything?” She rose and crossed the distance to his side, eyes wide and searching his face.

Holding his hands up, Thorin shook his head, missing the way Piper’s eyes traveled to watch his hair sway. “No, nothing is wrong… well, that is not entirely true. It seems that some of my company have gotten a little out of hand, and I have come to apologize.” He sighed when she only seemed confused, “They found a machine in your workshop… and have taken it apart. I have ordered them to reassemble it, but they seem yet uncertain as to whether or not they can.”

“Workshop…? Oh my garage! Uh… there’s just a snowblower and a lawnmower in there… huh.” She frowned, thinking about if she could afford to replace either right now. Probably not. But they had very little lawn, as most of the ground around them was pine needles and natural growth. She only maintained enough lawn for Riordan to play on. Her mother had done more, but she seemed to like the natural approach better. Hopefully they hadn’t taken the snowblower apart. That she needed. “Well, if they can’t I’m sure I can find a repairman who can.” With a shrug she smiled. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty easy going. Things happen, life goes on. Getting all twisted about it doesn’t help anyone.”

Thorin stood, staring at her for a moment, before one of his handsome smiles spread on his face. “If only more people had your heart, Lady Piper.” He grunted when she thumped him on the shoulder. “My apologies, Piper. Just, Piper.”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. “Damn majestic dwarf.”

“Majestic?” He queried, sounding far too amused. “You think I’m majestic?”

Piper laughed, grinning at him. “Well, it’s probably the most used term to describe you that I’ve noticed.” She looked over at her photo wall that he’d been admiring. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you knew of us already,” He countered, raising a brow as he watched her face.

She shrugged in that lopsided way she had. “I do, sort of. I mean, I know the major facts, but not the little details. Tell me about you, Thorin. Not Thorin Oakenshield, the great warrior, the crowned prince, but tell me about Thorin, the m--dwarf. Do you have anything you enjoy doing? Hobbies, interests, dirty little secrets?”

Thorin laughed then, “It would only be fair if you shared with me the same.” His blue eyes were lit with a mischief that he rarely let show. But she had a way of drawing that out in people, it seemed. He found a low-set overstuffed chair and sat in it, while she returned to her desk. They chatted for roughly two hours before she finished her work and had to go up to put Riordan to bed. There was a big smile on her face, that none of the other dwarves missed.

“Had a good time?” Fili asked in a teasing tone of his uncle as the older dwarf joined them, taking his spot on the sofa.

“Mind your tongue. We simply spoke.” Thorin reprimanded him lightly. “Our hostess is quite interesting.” He didn’t see behind him, that Bofur was studying his boots, making certain to meet no one’s gaze. It was a sickening feeling twisting in his gut, he wanted to jump up and scream at their king, but he couldn’t. He wanted to run and find Piper and find out all of these interesting things for himself, but he couldn’t. Instead he grabbed his blanket, pulled his hat down over his eyes and curled up on his spot to sleep, even if it was early. He didn’t feel like being a part of the world right at the moment.

Bifur and Bombur shared a glance, knowing that was unlike their Bofur to act that way, but they understood it. Bombur sighed, and sat back, puffing on his pipe, while he watched Bifur measuring a block of wood he had hewn from the oak outside. He wondered what sort of toy his cousin would craft, as Bifur wasn’t telling anyone just yet.

Eventually the group came in from outside, claiming they had the machine mostly put back together, or so they thought. And they would finish in the morning, as a couple of them were starting to nod off while working. After another hour, Piper had come to bid those who were still awake sweet dreams, and she went off to bed herself, promising the dwarves and hobbit they could have baths tomorrow. Bilbo seemed the most pleased by this.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Few Words on Clinical Trials...

14 months, two weeks post-dx

It’s come to my attention that there are people following me on social media hoping I’ll figure out how to survive a deadly disease. Gods bless ‘em; that’s now obviously my core function (well, in addition to figuring out how to get a career and/or life that can survive a brain that not infrequently shudders to a halt and explodes)(which reminds me, I got the car fixed, which is a sort of victory unto itself). So, here’s the deal; full disclosure.

A helluva lot of luck is involved. At every step. First of all, I had my first tumor (probably unrelated, but it’s still extremely suspicious) at age 17, which was successfully and completely surgically removed. However, the longest I’ve gone between MRIs is 12 months, so I was tagged and tracked at such an early point that they detected Tumor #2 (astrocytoma grade II) and removed it as soon as possible (ASAP in this case being a 10-month delay while Obamacare protections and funding came into effect so that I could get insurance)(yes, people do die of treatable diseases in America). And, since astrocytoma tends to come back angry (as it already did), I was closely monitored for the two inter-tumor years between Tumor #2 and #3 (I once calculated I’ve had almost 40 MRIs in my life)(there might be a correlation between that).

Secondly, I was able to get into a clinical trial - and stay in one. I’ve written about that previously, but a major takeaway is that you can always refuse treatment or leave a clinical trial, but if you formally leave or are removed, you never, ever get to come back. Also, due to the specificity of cancer treatments, there are loads and loads of qualifying or disqualifying factors for who is and isn’t eligible for a trial - Again, these are usually for patient safety (if you think otherwise, I’d challenge you to inject a known toxic substance into your system and see what happens). I do know, from working at a biotech company, that, even though the costs of running these trials doesn’t justify the $300K that Pfizer plans on charging for treatments, they aren’t cheap, and, if I were a cynical man, I’d try to jam-pack my experimental drug trial with as many people as possible who looked like they’d survive on standard-of-care (SOC is legally required in addition to all experimental treatments). To that end, I’m also lucky  - again, in a very weird, funky way.

There are three different forms of the IDH gene in gliomas; I don’t have the best one, nor do I have the worst one. However, “second best” is miles better than the worst one. I also have a methylated MGMT gene, which is important - the unmethylated version is resistant to radiation treatment, which is bad. I also have an ATRX mutation, which is relatively rare, but confers a high five-year survival rate (in this case “high” is 30-50%, which is considered failing in most places).

And I’m young (less than 40) and relatively healthy, which is another good predictor - whether it’s because that means I’m more likely to survive the nastiest napalm baths available and ask for more (and that makes oncologists considerably less ginger about starting you off with the nastiest stuff imaginable), or whether there’s some intrinsic anti-cancer aspect of youth, I honestly don’t know. Same goes with tolerating treatment well - I don’t know if that’s a correlation/causation issue, but again, anything that makes your oncologists feel safer about ordering more/harsher treatment is probably going to add to your life expectancy (if the chemo and radiation doesn’t kill you first). I honestly don’t know if I’d’ve been written off if I was morbidly obese and had heart problems.

So far in my grand design to survive the unsurvivable and pass that on, I realize I’m not coming up with superb results that can be easily replicated. Youth and mutations are random chance, getting into a trial is a matter of being in the right place at the right time (as so much else in life)(although you can do research through clinicaltrials.gov to see if there’s anything you might qualify for).

The advice I can give is this; and it’s worked for me, so far (feel free to change, ignore, or discard it as applicable to your situation):

1. Early detection is key. Familiarize yourself with the most common risk factors and symptoms of brain tumors, and floor it to a neurologist when you have them.

2. Get the very best quality of care, and be prepared to travel. This one is huge. For some reason, lots of people are eager to have their hometown hero perform on them, and the results are usually horrific. When you have brain cancer, the difference between “the very best” and “well qualified” is measured in corpses.

3. Don’t take “No” for an answer. I realise we all need to get better at consent issues, but the word “inoperable” needs to be removed from the medical lexicon immediately. Someone recently accused me of giving false hope when I linked to Anderson MD’s list of GBM myths that “inoperable” is usually code for a facility that doesn’t have the expertise, competence, or technical facilities needed to successfully operate on it. In other words, someone out there will have the ability to do something for you, likely surgically if you move fast enough. Yeah, that might be false hope, but you know what false hope beats the shit out of? Completely hopeless. Real grown-ups are surprisingly fragile and tend to go to pieces at the smallest things. In the past year, I’ve seen my parents throw temper tantrums over arguments they’ve had with my siblings, or an ant infestation. If that’s your mindset, then, yeah, you’re going to be paralyzed and lose that window of opportunity to beat this thing. As I wrote previously, you’re going to go into complete, paralytic shock the first 48-96 hours after you get a diagnosis. Enjoy it, because you don’t ever get to panic, ever again. Same thing with “inoperable,” if you want to accept that and  die, that’s your decision. Survival - of any sort - is not for the faint of heart, and you will  have to drag yourself across that finish line (or have your friends help you). Again, passing on some wisdom from Original Research Coordinator, the first 6-10 weeks post-diagnosis are the deciding factor for glioblastoma. If someone refuses to treat you, ask for a referral.

4. Stick through the entire treatment regimen. I’ve written previously that there are a lot of things you can do to make yourself more comfortable and healthy during chemo and radiation (that would be where the “complementary medicine” comes in). Again, you can quit treatment at any point, but you can’t always continue it  And, as I know, once post-surgical options get removed, they never come back.

5. Complementary, not alternative medicine. There is no cure “they” don’t want you to know about, there is no secret cancer survivor meeting where we all toast each other on finding the fountain of health - you’re thinking of Skull and Bones. Having said that, I get it - cancer treatments of any sort are a shit sandwich and you’re going to have to just get over it and take a big bite. It’s seductive to think there’s a less painful, disruptive, and dangerous path. Don’t believe it for a minute - you’ve gotten a raw deal, and you have to get over it. Having said that, exercise, diet, and lots of CDB (and THC)(don’t smoke it, though) probably made the difference for me completing the full 12 cycles of chemo. I never for a minute thought they would cure of me of anything, but they might allow you to survive the cure.

6. Follow your doctor’s recommendations and orders. Americans are the only people in the world who will happily accept a mechanics’ bill for five grand without doing any research or shopping around; but will argue with a trained professional about an obscure aspect of treatment or research. Back in the third or fourth cycle, at Mom’s recommendation, I asked Head Warlock in Charge (HWIC) about hyperbaric oxygen chambers (they’re good for radiation recovery). He nixed it (Mad Scientist also said she wouldn’t recommend it), and, at the next MRI, I was rewarded with a new glowing dot. In this case, that turned out to be further radiation scarring, but what if that bet had gone the other way? And, in defense of HWIC, he did mention in the most recent consult that he’d be willing to sign off on the hyperbaric chamber in a few months, if there wasn’t any further growth and my radiation scaring wasn’t improving (for those of you who’ve seen me recently, the scarring is only visible from the inside of my skull).

[musicallisto]

Hi❤️ Can I have a ship w/TMR & HP(male), pls? I’m 5'7,have a long black hair,dark eyes,fair skin. I'm ENFJ,the eldest of 4,making me reliable & a good leader. Very caring,affectionate,kind,strong both physically & mentally,competitive & fearless. I'm a good listener so as a good adviser. I adore animals,children & LOVE cuddling,skinship,coffee,theme park & advanturous things.I hate heat & worst w/directions. I'm always there for my sis. Smile's always on my face & I hope everyone can smile,too.

(Thank you so much and take your time with my ship if you’re too busy, I understand! Hwaiting ♥ I’m supporting you~ 🌹🌷🌺💐🌼🌻 I hope you have a lovely day filled with happiness, smiles and love.❤️❤️❤️)

I Ship You With…

T H O M A S

• If Thomas had to describe in one word everything he felt when he looked at you, it would be admiration. He was completely mesmerized by the way you moved, the way you talked, how good of a leader you were, how everyone seemed to rely on you, how you were so tender and yet so brave, how you were so altruistic and generous, how you were determined to save everyone no matter the price. It was what drew him to you. Your personalities were so alike in many ways. Although you weren’t one of the official leaders in Group B, you quickly became the head of the operations because the girls soon realized how good you were at taking the lead, scheming and making plans, and leading people to victory. You were a rebel, a fighter, and Thomas loved that about you. You didn’t try to talk him down, to tell him what he was doing was worthless. You believed in him and he believed in you, and it was enough for the both of you, despite all the death and the chaos surrounding you. You showed your utmost potential in the Scorch: you were an absolute badass, saving Thomas and the others Gladers several times. Your fearless and commander nature was Thomas’s favorite thing about you.

• Besides being one of the strongest and most physically capable ones in the Group, you also valued intelligence a lot, so it was very important for you to keep doing mental puzzles and things like that after all the situation died down. You taught Thomas how to play chess and even if he didn’t understand a lot at the beginning, he was more than happy to play with you. It often ended up in Thomas being frustrated because you won extremely easily, in only a few minutes, and he didn’t understand how you did it. You laughed and told him that he was just really bad at that game, and you wondered why WICKED had even bothered studying his brain. He smiled light-heartedly; your little jokes never failed to bring a smile to his lips, no matter how pained he was by all those he had lost. Evenings in Paradise were spent playing chess on a makeshift board as the sun was dying down behind the horizon on your right, and it was peaceful and quiet: everything you wanted and deserved after the trials.

• Since you loved children a lot, you tried to convince Thomas to have some of your own, years after the dreadful events of the Maze and the Scorch. He was skeptical at the beginning, not wanting his children to live and to be raised in a world so dark, a world so cold, but you told him how amazing of a father he would be and how incredible the kid would feel having a dad like him, and eventually, after a few months of asking and persuading, he accepted. Your first born child, a boy, was named Newt. It felt like a proper tribute to your best friend, and although you wished he could be there to see his small alter ego, you were filled with happiness with your little family. Thomas turned out to be a really good father, treating his child with respect, love, and being firm when he needed to. Sometimes, you could hear Thomas’s voice crack when he called your son by his name, but you shared a comforting look and he smiled lightly. Everything was going to be alright.

M I N H O

• Minho must be your best friend, there is no discussion here and it seems OBVIOUS to me that you two fit each other perfectly. Like honestly I don’t see a romantic relationship between the two of you but sign me up for the bff stuff. You both get so competitive and teasing when you are around each other, especially because you were both the best runners in your respective Mazes, and Minho can’t have his ego beaten by *cough* “a girl” (he regrets those words as soon as he realizes that you’re indeed going to beat him God knows how and that you’re actually one helluva girl). You’re always throwing snarky comments at each other and being what others would think is nasty, but you both know it’s just for the laughs and it’s your way of being affectionate.

• HOWEVER, as soon as the other is in danger, shit gets wild. When Minho is threatened by WICKED because of his immune condition, you’re the first one to react and try your best to protect him, and Minho would be the quicket to jump in front of danger to protect you (I mean, Thomas would too, because they’re both such hotheads). Sometimes, and especially in the Scorch, when everything seems desperate and after Minho gets hit by the thunderbolt, his playful banter slowly turns to more philosophical and deeper conversations that he shares with you at night around a bonfire. At first, you’re taken aback, because it’s a side of Minho that you don’t know, or are not used to seeing. You find some stupid joke to make because seeing your lively best friend so down in the dumps is very frustrating, and he uncontrollably laughs because you know him so well. He’s uncapable of keeping a frown when you’re around.

• After the Scorch and all the Flare shit, when life goes back to normal, you suddenly realize that animals must have suffered as much as humans, if not more, and you instantly find a new goal: adopt and care for any stray animal that you find near Paradise or on the roads. And every g o d d a m n time you see a wounded racoon or a pathetic-looking dog, you must take it in, to the great displeasure of Minho who doesn’t understand that fascination at all. From his point of view, it’s already hard enough to keep humans alive, let alone furballs. However, when you pick a little blind in one eye kitten, pleading eyeing Minho with his only blue orb, and literally shove him under his nose, he can’t help sighing and agreeing with you. From that day, he helps you put up an animal shelter in Paradise and surprisingly becomes the most whipped and gaga in front of the baby animals.

J A M E S   S I R I U S   P O T T E R

(faceclaim: Blake Steven)• So you didn’t specify which era you wanted so I thought you were okay with any, and I never wrote anything about Next Gen (actually, yes, I did. I wrote a Lorcan x Rose fanfic years ago and it was actually quite decent. It was called Kiss From A Rose bc, yanno, the song and the wordplay, rose, haha, lol, so funny 10/10) so I thought why not? So you two would be King and Queen of mischief™ just like the two amazing bastards he was named after. You may not be the most malicious, and that’s exactly why you make an excellent duo: teachers never suspect you because they know how intelligent, mature and responsible you are, and therefore would never do anything as childish and frivolous as putting pranks on people, right? but they fail to remember that you are dating James Sirius Potter, grandson of James Potter and nephew of Fred and George Weasley. (actually, McGonagall knows very well what’s going on, but she doesn’t interfere a lot because she misses the lively and funny atmosphere in the castle from the Marauders time, or the twins time).

• Soooo many dares, tournaments and stupid challenges between the two of you. At first, they were light-hearted and simple, nothing too extravagant, like “I bet you can’t eat two turkeys in one dinner!”, but as days went on and neither backed down, it escalated until it reached the point of “One hundred Galleons if you dye Professor Longbottom’s hair green in his sleep”. You always come up with the w o r s t dare ideas, or at least the most maleficent, and the thing is James Sirius always executes them. He never backs down from a challenge or dare, partly because it amuses him a lot and partly because he doesn’t want to be seen as cowardly. When you fear it’s going too far (because you have the most common sense, so even if you find it funny, you know when it’s time to stop and be serious), you tell him that it’s okay if he doesn’t do it, and it will absolutely not degrade his reputation or the way you view him, but once he has an idea in mind, he doesn’t let it go. Which leads him to detention quite a handful of times per semester, and as a consequence he receives a lot of Howlers while you’re laughing on the other side of the table.

• Because you both adore animals, and because that kind of stuff seems to run in your blood, you decide during your fifth year to become Animaguses, or at least attempt to do it. It takes a lot of months of preparation, and at first, you are very intimidated by the processus, but James Sirius convinces you to try to do it with him because it will be so much fun and imagine the endless possibilities if you can transform into an animal at will! Finally, after months and months of bizarre spells and disgusting concoctions, after several times escaping from detention because you were brewing potions after hours in the bathrooms, you finally manage to make it. It’s very confusing at first to change shape and become an animal, and not knowing what animal you would change into when you first transformed was very stressful, but after a lot of practice and training, it became easier and easier to get used to changing into an animal, and you could use that new, secret ability to meet with him without anyone knowing.

T E D D Y   L U P I N

(faceclaim: Chace Crawford)• So despite being much older than you both and therefore leaving Hogwarts years before you, Teddy is your best friend because of his mischievous, happy-go-lucky nature that really mirrors James Sirius’s personality. You get to hang out with him a lot, because he is a very good friend of the Potters, and also because you get on well with Victoire too. He is your favorite partner in crime and when he gets a prank idea to pull on someone in the castle and James Sirius is there to follow him, he basically is unstoppable. Your trio is very well known in Hogwarts when Teddy is still attending because of your creative jokes and pranks, and, to tell the truth, a little feared.

• Even after Teddy leaves Hogwarts, you still are in touch with him and talk a lot via letters. You tell him everything that’s going in Hogwarts, the classes, your friends, your family, gossip about the professors and the students, every little thing that he never would have thought he would miss when he was a student himself. He’s the only person you tell about your Animagus journey, and he’s very impressed because he knows it’s a very advanced form of magic and few wizards are ever capable of doing so. He doesn’t need it, obviously, but he loves hearing stories about your adventures and animal escapades nonetheless. Your letters are always the highlight of his days because he loves hearing from you and James Sirius and you are the closest thing he’s ever had to a brother and a sister. He loves hearing from you, your friends and your handwriting always reminds him of the times when you would spend days scheming jinxes and hexes to traumatize the poor other students.

• During the holidays, instead of staying at Hogwarts that becomes completely empty and dull, you would go back to the city and spend one week with your family and the other with the Potters, who basically adopted you as their second daughter. You love spending days with them because most of the time, the Weasleys and Teddy are there too, and it’s one giant family gathering where everyone knows each other and everyone gets along. You usually take long walks in the countryside with your best friend, trying to catch up the time you’ve spent without talking to each other, laughing and running in the corn fields, laying in the grass and laughing at the clouds that ominously look like McGonagall, or that Malfoy kid, reaching a pond and pushing a fully-clothed Teddy in there, then fleeing from the crime scene under his infuriated shouts… You’re so grateful for your friends and the amazing family that took you under its wing.

Moodboard

bigger version

Playlist

Muse - Knights of Cydonia

Martin Garrix - Virus (How About Now)

Eminem - Not Afraid

The Cab - Angel With A Shotgun

(the playlist & moodboard are mostly TMR related, but I was much more inspired, hope you don’t mind!)

[blythestheticsmoved]

❛ SCREAM 2 SENTENCE STARTERS

tw for violence, murder, weapons, all that good stuff

“I hate scary movies.” “It’s good to be scared. It’s primal.” “Listen, I read my Entertainment Weekly, okay? I know my shit.” “I got my money, I asked for your money.” “You know, I don’t even know you and I dislike you already.” “I don’t like being scared. I don’t like that.” “Scary movies are great foreplay.” “Hey, move your ass! You’re late.” “You know me and organized religions.” “Lower the walls for the next few days, okay?” “This self-induced isolation you got going is not healthy.” “You can’t blame real-life violence on entertainment.” “It’s a classic case of life, imitating art, imitating life.” “I lived through this. Life is life. Doesn’t imitate anything.” “Are you suggesting that someone is trying to make a real-life sequel?” “Many sequels have surpassed their originals.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” “I’d let the geek get the girl.” “It’s starting again.” “Multiplexes are just a dangerous place to be these days.” “You’re in extreme denial.” “This has nothing to do with us.” “Can’t we just go back to our psuedo-quasi-happy existence?” “I skipped. I couldn’t take all the ‘That’s Her!’ looks.” “You’re playing with the big boys now, got it?” “Your flattering remarks are both desperate and obvious.” “Be kind. She saved our lives.” “She had calf implants!” “I’m gonna get closer.” “This must be flat-out hell for you.” “How are you holding up?” “It’s really weird, isn’t it? To think this fuss is all because of you!” “What are you doing here?” “I was worried about you.” “Things were okay, until now.” “I’m seeing someone. Nice guy, pre-med, no apparent psychotic tendencies.” “I just want you to be careful.” “What am I supposed to do? Cut everybody off? Crawl under a rock?” “I want to make sure you’re safe, if that’s alright with you.” “Nothing like a funeral to bring the family together.” “What the hell are you doing?” “I forgive and forget. Just like you, I’d like to get back on with my own life.” “You bitch!” “Did you get that on film?” “You need to check your conscience at the door, sweetie. I’m not here to be loved.” “I don’t condone violence, but maybe you deserved it.” “Don’t you think your overreacting, just a little bit?” “How do you know that my dim-witted inexperience isn’t merely a subtle form of manipulation used to lower peoples’ expectations, thereby enhancing my ability to effectively maneuver within any given situation?” “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some oozing to do.” “I think you’re taking your psych major a little too seriously.” “ ‘I’m fine,’ yeah—fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.” “HI! No, I really mean that—hi!” “That shit only calls you when he’s drunk. Don’t go over there.” “You sound loaded. What’s up?” “Drink with your brain, that’s our motto.” “Do you want to die tonight?” “I’m outta here!” “Did anyone call for me?” “It’s your ill-conceived boyfriend.” “Everyone thinks that sororities are just about blow-jobs, but it’s not true!” “It’s happening again, isn’t it?” “Better hurry. Might get scooped.” “Get your jacket. Let’s get you home.” “Why don’t you show your face, you fucking coward?” “You know, I knew this was coming. I knew this wasn’t over.” “You are not alone, okay? We are all here for you.” “He needs to realize the nineties is no time to play hero.” “Why would anyone go back in that house anyway?” “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.” “I think we have a copycat on our hands.” “Do these guys have to follow you around everywhere?” “How am I ever going to get you alone?” “To be honest, I think it would probably be in your best interest to stay as far away from me as possible.” “I hope that was an off-the-cuff remark that holds no subtext whatsoever.” “I’ll take my chances.” “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” “Come on, smile. Just once. Please?” “I’ll smile when I catch the killer.” “I’m not here to do your job.” “He is a gemini, single, but I think he’s gay.” “Penny for your thoughts?” “I think I love you!” “Why won’t you let me touch you?” “I think you just need to deal with that and move on.” “How do we find the killer? That’s what I want to know.” “Let’s not move on. Maybe you are a suspect.” “Well, if I’m a suspect, you’re a suspect.” “That’s what reporters do! They stage the news!” “If she’s not a killer, she’s a target.” “I’m gonna do what any rational human being would do, and get the fuck out of here.” “I wanna report the news, I don’t wanna be the news!” “I need you. I cannot do this without you.” “Let’s go get killed!” “I’m a fighter.” “None of us can avoid our fate, but as an artist, you can honestly face it, and fight it.” “How long have you been here?” “I need to be alone right now, okay?” “Do I get a say in this?” “The killer’s trying to finish what was started.” “I’ll be back when you start talking about something a little more Saved By the Bell-ish.” “What do you wanna do, bonehead?” “Want to wait here and see who drops next?” “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” “Have you ever felt a knife cut through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?” “No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be the hero and you’ll never, ever get the girl.” “Where’s your innovation? Why copycat two high school loser-ass dickheads?” “This isn’t a good time.” “Come on, you sent me to prison. You can give me two minutes.” “There’s been enough exposure. Why would you want anymore?” “Yeah, I bet you’re real sorry.” “There was no attack. We were talking, very heatedly.” “I don’t know about homicide but you’ve definitely got me for raising my voice in a public library.” “It should’ve been me.” “Stop treating me like glass. I’m not going to break.” “Until you find me standing over a body with a knife in my hand, I think you’d better treat me with the rights and privileges afforded to every innocent citizen in this country.” “Enjoying the show?” “I just wanna find this fucker!” “Now we’re getting somewhere.” “I never meant to hurt you.” “Stay here!” “There’s no one there.” “When this is all over, I’ll still be here.” “I wanna know who it is.” “I’m going back.” “Stupid people go back. Smart people run.” “We’re smart people, so we should just get the fuck out of here.” “I’m sick of running!” “If we know who it is, it’ll be over.” “Get away from me!” “This isn’t what it looks like!” “Shit, who tied these? We gotta get out of here!” “The killer, he’s here!” “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” “You really wanna trust your boyfriend?” “Don’t you know history repeats itself?” “Surprise, [name].” “Thanks a lot, partner.” “He’s crazy! You know me better than that!” “What do you think? Experiencing some déjà vu?” “I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” “YOU ARE DEAD!” “I never would’ve hurt you.” “You should really deal with your trust issues.” “Oh! So vulgar!” “Did he let you talk to him this way?” “He was a sick fuck, just like you.” “No. He was a sick fuck who tried to get away with it. I’m a sick fuck who wants to get caught.” “I’ve got my whole defense planned out.” “I’m gonna blame the movies.” “I’m an innocent victim.” “You’re a psychotic.” “That’ll be our little secret.” “See? It’s all about execution.” “You’re forgetting one thing: I fucking killed him.” “You piece of shit!” “You got a Linda Hamilton thing going on. It’s nice. I like it.” “Nice twist, huh? Didn’t see it coming, did ya?” “It’s called a makeover; you should try it.” “I’m very sane.” “You’re never gonna get away with this.” “Not wise to patronize me with a gun.” “Don’t you FUCKING MOVE.” “I have had a very, VERY bad day, and I would like to know exactly what the FUCK is going on here.” “I can still help you.” “Let me kill her!” “Personally, I think it’s rather poetic.” “No, don’t you listen to her!” “Quite a predicament you’re in.” “Give me the gun.” “I want you to know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” “We should probably talk about what exactly happened here, you know? Get our stories straight.” “I’ve been shot!” “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!” “You’ve got more lives than a cat.” “They always come back.” “How’s it feel to be a hero?” “I’m back.” “I’m coming with you!” “I can’t believe you’re alive!” “It’ll make a helluva movie.”

[ouraidengray4]

10 Whole30 Tips That Will Help You Last All 30 Days

Starting the Whole30? Whether it's your first time or maybe your second (or third) attempt at actually finishing all 30 days without slipping, these tips from the Whole30 founder, Melissa Hartwig, will serve as your 10 commandments. If you're ever having a "screw this" moment, just come right back here and remind yourself that if you follow these tips, the Whole30 will be a helluva lot easier.

1. Announce your commitment.

Having accountability will keep you on track and makes it easier for you to recruit friends and family for support along the way. Share your “I’m starting the Whole30!” graphic or announcement on your blog, social media, a whiteboard at work, or our free Whole30 forum… bonus points if you inspire someone to do it with you!

2. Recruit your support team.

You’ll need motivation, encouragement, resources, and maybe some tough love along the way, so ask key players for exactly what you’ll need. Task your mom with daily encouragement, your best friend with a butt-kicking when you need it, and your Whole30-savvy co-worker with recipe inspiration if you get bored. For even more support, connect with the Whole30 community on social media and our forum.

3. Clean out your pantry.

If your Whole30 excitement is high, you may be tempted to skip this step, thinking, I don’t even want this stuff—no need to remove it! But future you will thank you for getting the chocolate out of easy reach when you’re cranky, tired, and craving it on day 5. Give it away, donate it to a local shelter, or box it up with (lots of) tape, and stick it in the garage for a month.

4. Plan some meals.

Having a robust plan for the first few days will help you alleviate stress and keep you on track when days run long. Subscribe to Real Plans, use your favorite recipes from The Whole30 Fast and Easy Cookbook, or follow the 7-day meal plan in The Whole30. Plan on writing down at least the first three days of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus a post-workout meal and optional snacks just in case.

5. Stock up on emergency food.

During the Whole30, you can’t grab candy out of the vending machine if you’re in a pinch. Having plenty of “emergency food” on hand can help you work around getting stuck in traffic, travel days, and late meetings. Hard-boil some eggs, prep a protein salad, stash some Whole30-approved jerky or an RxBar in your desk at work, and roast a double-tray of veggies on Sunday night so you always have some on hand.

6. Create if/then plans.

The brain loves a plan and succeeding on the Whole30 means thinking about more than just the food. Think of a few potentially tough situations you may encounter in the first week (a business lunch, family dinner, or travel plans) and how you’ll handle them using the “if/then” structure. “IF I get stuck at the airport on a travel delay, THEN I’ll eat the jerky, carrot sticks, and almond butter I brought in my carry-on.”

7. Don't turn into a Whole30 hermit.

Meeting the team for a happy hour or going out for brunch with friends may feel intimidating at first, but don’t turn into a Whole30 hermit. Be confident ordering soda water and lime at the bar, research the menu ahead of time and ask questions of your waiter, and attend the party with your own compliant side dish or shareable bites. Being social will feel good, as will waking up the next morning bright-eyed and clear-headed.

8. Stay connected to the process.

Use Whole30 Day by Day or your own journal to reinforce your growth mindset, create some accountability, and document your progress. Seeing small changes every day can be motivating, and writing down your favorite meals, if/then plans, and emergency food strategies will help you stay on track if things get bumpy.

9. Stick to the rules.

We know it’s tempting to eat “just one bite” or step on the scale “just this once,” but don’t do it! First, the elimination portion of the Whole30 only works if you completely eliminate the foods to which you may be sensitive—so yes, even a small piece of pizza or one glass of beer makes a difference. More importantly, you made a commitment to yourself: 30 days of Whole30, 100 percent by the book. Honor that commitment and prove to yourself that you can do hard things.

10. Don’t blow off reintroduction.

It’s tempting on Day 30 to celebrate with a meal full of all the things you’ve been missing (pizza, chocolate, beer... ), but when you wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck, you’ll understand why reintroduction is so important. You’ll miss half the learning experience by skipping this step, so use our resources to plan and enact a careful reintroduction plan. What you learn here will help you create your version of food freedom, so be patient and take good notes.

Melissa Hartwig is a certified sports nutritionist who specializes in helping people change their relationship with food and create life-long, healthy habits. She is the co-creator of the original Whole30 program and a four-time New York Times best-selling author (It Starts With Food, The Whole30, Food Freedom Forever, and The Whole30 Cookbook). She has been featured by Dr. Oz, Good Morning America, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Details, Shape, Outside, and SELF, and ranked #27 on Greatist's Top 100 Most Influential People in Health and Fitness in 2017. Melissa has presented more than 150 health and nutrition seminars worldwide and is a prominent keynote speaker on social media and branding, health trends, and entrepreneurship. She lives in Salt Lake City, UT.

from Greatist RSS http://ift.tt/2CYJ7P4 10 Whole30 Tips That Will Help You Last All 30 Days Greatist RSS from HEALTH BUZZ http://ift.tt/2ySGafD

[seanmeverett]

Why These 100 Mission-Driven Companies Will Win [Part 1 of 2]

Discover something new that might improve your own life

I. Setting the Stage

Within the walls of The Mission’s digital offices, we often have discussions about what could push this world of ours forward. One of those things is our job. Everyone has one to make money to support their family. And those companies sell products or services to other people.

Thus, we felt it was important to highlight the organizations out there that exist beyond just making a profit. Exist as another reason for people to care, both the ones who work inside the organization and also those who buy or experience their products and services.

With that in mind, below we have grouped approximately 100 organizations into different product buckets and highlight something special about each one of them.

Use this as a guide to discover someone or something new that might improve your own life.

“Courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage, you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.” ― Maya Angelou

II. Beverages

Hint: Sugar is in everything. Too much of it destroys your brain, and we all know soda isn’t great for you. hint water makes it easy to get wet with a bit of flavor without the nasty calories, preservatives or GMOs. You can even get a variety pack for all your flavored hydration needs, without the sugar.

Califia Farms: Coffee creamers contain some nasty stuff. Just look at the back of their packages. Plant-based milks, creamers, and some nice cold brew coffee in transportable bottles is an easy win. Califia has a range of products with a mission that starts with plant-based goodness.

Suja Juice: Sugar is bad when it’s refined and ingested in large quantities. But that’s not to say all plant-based sugars are bad, especially when cold-pressing some different types of juices. Suja has kombuchas, probiotics, vinegars, and many more types of beverages to help you live a healthier life. The mission? Organic juices and vegetables quenches the soul and makes you feel more alive.

Four Sigmatic: You know what coffee is. But bet ya never heard of mushroom coffee. What if you could remove the jitters, the crash, and the stomach problems caused by the regular cup o’ joe? That’s the winning formula here, preaching things like reishi, cordyceps, lion’s mane, and chaga.

Brita: Their brand name is now synonymous with any kind of water filter, loved by college students everywhere. They’re the leader and continue to innovate with the filtration technology.

Invigorated Living: Hydration is no joke. We’re made of almost all water. This team is making alkaline filters for screwing onto your water faucet, a pitcher in the fridge, or a to-go sport bottle. Why is alkaline better? “It removes free radicals, eliminates toxins, and increases immunity and energy levels.”

III. Food

Trader Joes: Lots of health food at a price that won’t break the bank. The wife and I are vegan, so we fill up a cart and leave the store for half the price of what it costs us elsewhere. Good food, low price. That’s something we can get behind.

Whole Foods: Just purchased by Amazon, and subsequently slashed the prices of the original health-first grocery, Whole Foods Market is the market leader when it comes to putting the best stuff for you into your body.

Thrive Market: an organic grocery store that exists only online. They deliver direct to your door, making it faster and easier for your family to get the best fuel. And of course, Thrive Market is slashing prices up to 25% to 50% off.

Greensbury Market: “Greensbury is the original delivery service for grass-fed beef, organic meat, and local seafood.” If you’re into meat and want to make sure it comes from the best organic farms, fisheries, and ranches in the US, look no further.

Daily Harvest: Fan of ice cream? Rather it be better for you than worse? How about frozen superfood that acts like ice cream? And the best part is they deliver to your door. That’s a win-win.

Manitoba Harvest: Back in the day, the word Hemp was just a euphemism for weed and the war on drugs. But my oh my, has the world changed. Today, hemp is used for healthy food products including hemp hearts, toasted hemp seeds, protein powder, snacks and even oils for your body. This team even has a Hemp Academy to get you schooled on all the benefits. A little learning goes a long way.

VSL: It stands for Very Strong Legacy and Very Strong Loyalty. That’s a mission we get excited about. But how do they do it? With probiotic medical foods. IBS is no joke, and if you’re afflicted, it’s not fun. I’ve had a few friends who suffered. These foods can help. Kudos, team.

CWHemp: Charlotte’s Web isn’t just a children’s story. This organization is the maker of The World’s Most Trusted Hemp Extract complete with cannabinoids. The future is here, y’all.

IV. Shelter

Open Listings: Buying a home make you cringe? Reams of paperwork, lots of fancy math, the dread of 30-years of commitment to non-stop payments. This team helps you find the home, gets an agent to work with you, and you keep half the closing commissions. Save time and money…where do we sign up?

Redfin: 3D walking tours online come standard so you don’t spend all your time driving around a city in a stranger’s car. Redfin cares about customer reviews and closes 10,000 houses every year. A modern take on real estate.

Compass: Looking for a home that’s more unique than the cookie-cutter suburban standard? Compass lets you search by home design, amenities, and neighbordhood so you find the most sought after properties without combing through copycats.

Sothebys: You might know the brand through the high-end art auctions taking place for the likes of Thomas Crowne. But there’s also the real estate arm showcasing the best of the best for rent and ownership all across this little globe of ours.

Prometheus Apartments: Luxury apartment finding on the west coast shouldn’t be hard. Especially in tech-centered hot beds where lots of talent is vying for the same living quarters. This team makes it easier in the Bay Area, Seattle, and Portland to name a few.

WeLive: WeWork isn’t just for shared office space. They’re also dipping their toe into the Digital Nomad lifestyle with month to month rentals in similar locations to the office space. Sleep, work, live.

V. Apparel

Bonobos: A long-time brand fan here. What started as a better fitting men’s pant expanded into a retail empire complete with a woman’s line. Setting trends with their Bonobos Guides shops for trying on but ordering online, they were recently purchased by Wal-Mart. Kudos Andy Dunn.

AllBirds: Comfy shoes don’t have to be ugly. In fact, they can serve a duel purpose. This team is focused on using the planet’s natural materials, like New Zealand’s superfine merino wool. What used to be only for soft sweaters is now for soft shoes.

Gap: No introductions needed here. Just good clothes at fair prices and a commitment to a new mission with 100% of Gap’s cotton coming from sustainable sources by 2021.

MVMT: Like the look of a classic wristwatch but don’t want to pay horological prices? With MVMT you get an incredible collection of both men’s and women’s styles for around $100. A couple college dropouts, made good.

Smartwool: Now owned by Timberland, US-made smartwool socks and active clothing helps you get outdoors and stay there. Pushing the limits of Merino wool, their story started on a ski slope with the aim of stopping toes from going cold.

Merrell: Dig the outdoors more than the indoors? If “trail running is life” is your motto, then you’ve found your home with this group. The clothes, shoes, and accessories are made for movement and comfort and likely you’ve seen the brand on friends without even realizing it before.

NorthFace: If you’ve ever lived in Chicago, or climbed Mt Everest, then this cold-weather retailer needs nay an introduction. Puffy coats, vests, backpacks, all meant to stay dry and light, even when it’s 40 degrees below zero with the Windy City windchill scraping at your face. Warmth in more than one way.

VI. Services

Biz Services

Legal Zoom: Need legal help fast and without breaking the bank? Legal Zoom was one of the first to bring people together online. From startups, wills, trusts, and IP to personal and family law, this organization can help you out.

Gusto: Everything’s online these days and with so many small and medium-sized businesses out there needing to pay their employees, you need a simple web app that can get all things HR done for you. Gusto’s got it in spades.

Intercom: You might know them from the little customer service chat widget in the bottom right-hand corner of many of the websites you visit. Intercom also has one of the best brands, designs, and educational blog content out there for the business of building businesses. Track lead gen from visits to closed deals.

Banking

Silicon Valley Bank: Well known in the startup industry, Silicon Valley Bank has been the financial institution of choice for the most valuable tech companies for many decades. This group knows money, and they know startups. Give them a look.

Chase: One of the biggest banks in the US, Chase has everything you need as a consumer from savings, checking, CDs, credit cards, and on and on. It works around the world and is, of course, FDIC-insured to protect your money from theft and fraud.

USAA: Well-known as the financial organization for military servicemen and servicewoman, USAA has been around since 1922 to help with insurance, banking, investing, real estate, health care, and retirement. Everyone we talk to loves them. A helluva brand.

Capital One: It might sound funny to think about a bank being mission-driven, but right on the top of the homepage today is a banner that says “We’re here to support our customers impacted by Hurricane Harvey”. You don’t get that with other banks.

Money

PayPal: The original online payments processing company, PayPal has existed for decades to let people transaction on eBay and all over the web to buy things and send money. They recently acquired Venmo as well to add a bit more millennial fun to the brand.

Venmo: The original “send money to my buddy for beer money last night” app, complete with a public stream full of funny comments and emoticons is all grown up now. They process $20 Billion in payments. Billion. With a B. The craziest part is it’s all free to you, the user.

Insurance

GEICO: “15 minutes could save you 15% or more on car insurance”. Likely one of the best tag lines in decades, repeatable by normal people all across the US. Warren Buffett took a stake in them very early on. Their business is doing well, continues to grow, and if personal use is any indication, we use GEICO for our car insurance.

Ladder Life Insurance: You don’t want to think about it, but it’s an inevitability for every one of us. Make sure your family is taken care of. Ladder makes it easy through a simple online web tool to get a quote in seconds and they even have a friendly calculator to see how much you might need.

Lemonade Insurance: We all have a lot of stuff, and need to protect our apartment or home with insurance. Chat through the app or the website, get responses instantly, and lower prices at Lemonade Inc. A match made in heaven.

Real World

Jet.com: Online ecommerce for all things groceries, Jet.com was recently purchased by Wal-Mart to continue the battle for eCom supremacy against Amazon. Jet’s friendly interface and simple shipping options made it one of the fastest growing in the US.

Postmates: What if you could push a button and get anything at all delivered to you in only a few hours? Postmates made that dream a reality, with its large workforce of couriers to pick up anything around your city including clothes, food or miscellaneous wares. If you’re in a pinch, be pinched no longer.

Blue Apron: We all have trouble trying to figure out what the heck we’re going to eat for dinner tonight? Did we go to the store? Should we just order delivery? With Blue Apron’s subscription meal delivery service, they give you all the fresh goodies, and the recipe. You just prepare, serve, and eat.

Purple Carrot: One of my personal favorites, Purple Carrot delivers only plant-based fresh ingredients to your home every week. Pull out the veggies and spices, grab the recipe card with appetizing imagery, and spend 30 mins to an hour preparing a meal for a 4-person family. We’ve been using this service for months and we’ve never felt better. This from a guy who used to hate cooking, but now enjoys it.

— Sean Everett

We only promote products that we use, love and trust. If you enjoyed this story, please click the 👏 button and share to help others find it! Feel free to leave a comment below.

The Mission publishes stories, videos, and podcasts that make smart people smarter. You can subscribe to get them here.

Why These 100 Mission-Driven Companies Will Win [Part 1 of 2] was originally published in The Mission on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

from Stories by Sean Everett on Medium http://ift.tt/2esJrOC