#shifty looking cow

[ontarom]

I've been re-playing all of Mass Effect for the first time in many years, and i'm not gonna lie, Batarians hit different this time around. I blame Bray, Aria's second in the Omega DLC.

Also some random bic pen doodles of random characters (except the Shepard on the right, she is my main Shepard)

[naarisz]

Welcome to my ME screenshot folder! I have...

...family photos (feat emo kids & cute pets)

...photos about making new friends

... photos taken before disaster

I only take reference screenshots or goofy screenshots. :D

//Just wanted to share some funny photos, between "artsy" posts. I waaant to post here more regularly. :)

[eljeebee]

i met the shifty looking space cow...

[hedgehog-moss]

Last Sunday in October, a story in five parts :)

i. The guy who owns the pasture next to mine took his cows back to their winter lodgings the other day, and told me I could let my llamas eat what was left of the grass if I wanted. That was sweet of him but his pasture's fence is cow-proof, not llama-proof, so I had to wait for a sunny day, so I could sit with a book nearby and keep an eye on the llamas Pampe. Today was the day!

Pampy looked happy about this unexpected change of scenery and started grazing peacefully, meanwhile Pampe started with exploring the whole pasture, including the patch of woods at the back, hoping to find a flaw in the fence.

(Note Poldine below, desperately running after her mum so she won't be left behind if Pampe does find an opportunity to escape)

ii. I found some impressive coulemelles in this new pasture (I don't know any mushroom names in English sorry.) I cut one to take to the pharmacy and ask if they're the good kind (here with my hand for scale)

They're also known as nez de chat, cat's nose mushrooms, in some regions...

I found some girolles nearby last year, but not this time. The llamas seemed to be on their best behaviour so I thought after lunch I'd go look for mushrooms farther away in the woods, down by the torrent, instead of watching them all day.

Poldine, watch your mother.

I asked Merricat if she was volunteering her services as a llama-sitter (it looked like it)

—but she suspected I was going home where the fire is, so she followed me. (I don't make a fire on sunny afternoons, though... she had to nap in my cardigan instead. Not as good, but a tolerated second-best option.)

iii. I took Pan with me after lunch so he wouldn't encourage Pampe in mischief, and he was uncharacteristically audacious in his frolicking! He doesn't like water and he's usually quite prudent when we're near the torrent, even scolding me if I climb on mossy rocks, but today he was jumping from one slippery rock to the other very boldly.

As I was taking this nice waterfall photo, I heard a very dramatic high-pitched squeal followed by a dramatic splashing sound, and when I turned around Pandolf was dragging himself out of the torrent, looking, as we say in french, honteux et confus.

I'm sorry that his bout of audacious frolicking had to end this way :( Back to frolicking gingerly for at least a couple of years... (His fur is magical though, he looks like a drowned rat at first but then shakes himself twice and is immediately back to a normal volume of floof. So his dignity doesn't suffer for long, at least.)

iv. I found no mushrooms but something even better!

I love chestnuts so much, I've been hoping to find chestnut trees for years but was starting to think they just don't grow at this altitude... But I suck at identifying trees so it's very possible I walked past them dozens of times and never recognised them when it wasn't chestnut season.

You really have to earn every chestnut, even with the crushing-under-your-boot method to squeeze them out you still have to extricate them from their burr going ow ow ow the whole time. The worst thing is when you kill your fingers opening a reticent burr and it resentfully spits out a bunch of sad deflated worthless chestnuts.

Still, I ended up going home with chestnuts in every single one of my pockets. When we got out of the woods and back on the road Pandolf and I ran into a woman we don't know (so, not a close neighbour) and we started talking about foraging and I wondered if I should tell her about the nearby chestnut spot. But those things are private. No one told me about the chestnut spot even after I made increasingly heavy casual hints about how much I love chestnuts. After a while though I started suspecting this lady knew about the spot and was on her way there. Or on her way back, through a different path. She looked shifty. So did I. It's very possible that we were both standing there in the middle of the road with our coat pockets crammed with chestnuts, making pointedly non-chestnut-related small talk.

v. I went home and started making chestnut-pumpkin soup while dodging constant coordinated chicken attacks. At first they act like they're napping on a conveniently-nearby chair, or looking the other way, and as soon as you stop distrusting their intentions, they pounce, often from two different directions.

Side plot: Pandolf spent this whole time desperately trying to catch a cat, to restore his self-confidence after falling in the torrent.

Morille went from strolling casually on top of the fence to lounging casually in the hazel tree above my head, making it look like she hadn't even noticed she was being chased, which was very frustrating for Pandolf. Nothing wounds a dog like going unnoticed.

I told Morille it would make him happy if she let him catch her, and she was like eh, fine, and elegantly jumped from the hazel tree to the top of the stone wall.

Pandolf immediately followed, poked her a bit brutally with his big nose, and then he didn't know what else to do with her once he caught her so he just wagged his tail like "Well played, cat!! It was nice chasing you" and left.

v. bis (or ter) I want to reassure Pirlouit fans (who might have noticed that he wasn't allowed to graze in the neighbour's pasture with the llamas) that he knows he's entitled to fair compensation as a donkey, and he stood behind the fence the whole time I was preparing my soup, patiently waiting for his pumpkin benefits. Which he did get.

I found some leftover chestnuts in my trouser pocket tonight, that I'd forgotten about, so I'm having stove-roasted chestnuts for dessert after the chestnut soup! Chestnuts were 90% of my dinner and were also the reason Pandolf got dinner. I ran out of dog kibble and I was thinking of giving him a hard-boiled egg and some rice tonight, and go buy kibble tomorrow, but on our way back this afternoon we stopped by our closest neighbour's house and I humbly offered a handful of chestnuts in exchange for one serving of kibble. The neighbour's dog didn't look enchanted with our offer but his human agreed. I usually trade with my chicken's eggs but this woman has hens so I'm glad chestnuts are also accepted as valid currency.

[spphirrguearc]

I love @ambitionforged but I'm also gonma scream at him

[ambitionforged]

tags: joke muses.

[bovineblogger]

Could you rate the shifty looking cow from mass effect?

VIDEO GAME: MASS EFFECT

GGWWUUH? HE STEALS YOUR MONEY??

ok i mean. i think if cows knew what money was they would also probably steal your money. so this works. i actually kinda love him

PERSONAL RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 5/5

[canarydarity]

Tango hadn’t quite yet wrapped his mind around the fact that he was here. Having done it now three times before didn’t make starting over any easier, didn’t make the game any less terrifying. He tried not to let his eyes stray to the timer perpetually counting down in the corner of his vision, but it didn’t matter—each beat of his heart was a second, and his pulse was keeping time even if he was trying not to. 

Tango thrust the shovel back into the ground, the dirt on their island moist and clumpy instead of crumbling and dry, and resolutely ignored the reminder that this game—like all the others—would likely end with him fertilizing this very ground. He wasn’t really expecting to win. Tango had no idea why it was that he was here. 

“Oh, it’s Joel!” Etho called from the other end of their small patch of land, and the call sounded like a warning. At first, Tango was thinking about how you almost wouldn’t believe the two had been soulmates last time, but as he thought about it, he changed his mind; what is a soulmate but he who knows and understands you best of all? If Etho’s call was a warning, it was because he knew Joel demanded one. 

He hadn’t looked up, but the waves made by Etho’s boat washed further up the shore toward the ground Tango was terraforming, and he shuffled a step or two to the side in distaste. He hated the water; it always made him feel…extinguished. 

“I can’t believe you’ve replaced me with a cow, Etho!” 

Tango snorted. No offense to Joel, but he could. It was probably more telling of Etho though than his spurned ex-soulmate. 

Tango pulled his shovel out of the ground, tossing its contents off to the side. He primed to dig into the ground again.

“Hey guys, are you setting up here, by the way?”

He stopped. Tango knew that voice—he spent weeks obtaining fluency in its passive anxiety, in the undertones of worry about doing something wrong. 

He had no trouble finding Jimmy; Tango simply looked up and he was there, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck like he did when he was feeling unsure. His face was scrunched in a kind of wince and his eyes shifty, but this too was not unusual for him. The familiarity hit Tango like a truck—no, that wasn’t enough. What hit harder than a truck?

He hadn’t seen Jimmy since…

Since when? Since they’d watched Scar get eaten by zombies? Since they got separated in the commotion of having succeeded in leveling the playing field of green names and changing targets? Since whatever last brush of shoulders or arms or hands occurred before he fell to his knees, alone, on the doorstep of the boat Joel and Etho argued over now only a few feet away?

“Cause…we’re the bad boys and we were gonna set up here.” Jimmy finished awkwardly, trying to sound firm and falling flat; the phrase came off like it was said by a kid who was threatening you with a toy sword but acting like he could use it to deal you some good damage. 

Tango raised an eyebrow; it took him only a second later to realize that he was smiling (he wondered when that had started). Bad boys, huh? One guess as to where that name came from—but Tango couldn’t let his gaze stray from Jimmy to lay eyes on Joel; he heard him and Etho bickering in the background, but it breached not a thought in Tango’s mind. 

He wanted to laugh, or—no, he wanted to play scared; he wanted to double over and fake being in pain like anyone should do when pretend stabbed by a kid playing with things he couldn’t understand. 

But Joel was still yelling and Etho was still taunting, and the division between this little island and the hill across the water was clear. Tango dropped his shovel and wiped his hands off on his pants so he didn’t do anything stupider.

Skizz and Impulse giggled and laughed about Jimmy’s claims, but Jimmy seemed none the wiser; stopping to place a furnace and quickly cook some steak; glancing over his shoulder, glancing at those on the island, glancing at Joel. These games always made him jumpy, Tango knew that. 

Tango hadn’t looked away, which was how he knew Jimmy’s gaze didn’t land on him once. 

It was Etho that caught his attention at last. “No! Don’t you dare…”

Tango scrambled up the slant he was working on to see Etho on the other side rowing away, cow in tow, and Joel smirking on the edge of the sand, arrow notched. There was not a second more of observation before he let it fly and it made its mark. 

Tango whined at the loss; of course, Joel had no way of knowing just how hard a time they’d been having with their bovine friends, but even if he had, he’d likely just have laughed. 

“YES!” he heard Joel scream, jumping around in the sand; a sore-winner he definitely was. 

Tango was already skidding down the side of their island and into the water when Joel shouted again, “Jimmy, run!”

He heard his soulmates cry of “wait wait wait!” but wasted no glance backward as he climbed up onto the mainland, shaking water out of his hair as he did; steam evaporated off of him as droplets flew. 

“Hey!” Tango shouted after Joel, though he clearly only had eyes for antagonizing Etho. “that took us 30 minutes to find!” 

Tango was knocked over from behind before he got the chance to see if he’d managed to get through to Joel at all (this was probably for the best, as he definitely hadn’t). He felt the fine gravel of the sand dig into his palms where he caught himself, but he barely registered the tick of damage from the shove and subsequent collapse; not like he felt it from the realization of who it had come from.  

Eyes wide and blinking like he couldn’t believe what it was he’d done either, there was Jimmy, only a few feet away. His chest heaved from the running, but he was otherwise still, half turned towards where Tango kneeled on the ground, half turned towards where Joel was running off into the woods. 

Neither of them looked away. Tango felt his health regenerate, but he didn’t think he believed it. Sure, he was at full hearts, but then why did he feel like the sand beneath him was shifting and making space for his burial; had Grian coded in some sort of quicksand?

Tango used their hesitation to process the fact that this hit hadn’t harmed them both; he knew logically that it shouldn’t have, but the experience was something else entirely; the feeling somewhat akin to grief.

“C'mon, Jimmy,” fell out of the trees to which Jimmy’s back was turned, and Tango watched him tense as the sound reached them both. Also behind him and to their right was Etho climbing out of his boat, feet touching down on the shore, path ahead pre-determined. 

Jimmy broke their eye contact only to close his eyes, and when he opened them again he swallowed and said “sorry, rancher,” feet beginning to backpedal. It was quiet enough that Tango could believe it just for him, and that implication of not wanting anyone else to hear shoveled the last of the dirt on Tango’s corpse, surely, it had to. Jimmy didn’t turn away—not until he stumbled and absolutely had to, not being able to risk the danger of walking backwards anymore. 

Tango rubbed his hands on his pants, feeling the sand and stray pebbles peel themselves from the indents they’d created in his palms upon impact, scrambling to his feet to follow. He bent only to scoop up a rock on his way. 

Even just inside the first row of trees, the forest was a different place entirely. The beach fell away, but the scene change didn’t do anything to turn the tide of their circumstances. Tango stopped just behind Etho, caught up just in time to hear:

“Everything precious you have in this series, Joel, it’ll be taken from you, you understand?”

Joel didn’t look concerned. He was still smirking, still playing up the part of the bitter ex (and seemingly getting too much enjoyment out of it, for Tango's liking). It was just like Joel to enjoy the breakup more than the relationship. 

Jimmy was further away, half behind Joel and resolutely avoiding looking in Tango’s direction; he was always hiding behind things he was taller than. Tango remembered when Jimmy’s go-to source of cover used to be him. 

Joel just rolled his eyes, a scoff his only response. He placed both hands on Jimmy and pushed, jumpstarting him into moving. Tango somehow managed to resist the urge to narrow his eyes further. He dropped the rock he was holding—he felt stupid for grabbing it now; it wasn’t like he was going to throw it; it wasn’t like he was capable. 

Bad boys they’d said; the Jimmy that Tango remembered had been kind. Maybe he had to rework his definition of a soulmate; he didn’t think he wanted to. 

Etho turned too, having done what he’d intended. Tango felt more so than saw Etho pat him on the shoulder as he passed. He didn’t need to look at his timer to know that not even 3 minutes had passed. 

“Yeah, I’m with you, Etho,” he said—but he was still staring off into the trees. He watched until Joel and Jimmy had woven too far into them to be visible anymore, but Jimmy didn’t turn back once.

[blueberry-ovaries]

CHAPTER FOUR : BOLD FACED LIES AND CIGARETTES

A/N: Hello?! what’s this? a new chapter? that’s right chapter four of hiraeth!!

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warnings: mentions of war, injuries, bullying (?), strong language, horrible accent writing and probable OOC and historical inaccuracies

< previous chapter > - < next chapter >

The sun had started to set by the time a new person arrived at Winnie’s hiding spot. Ron had left a few minutes prior claiming he was needed for food service preparations. Winnie thought it was just because the man didn’t know how to talk to people

“Winnie?” The voice of Dick Winters called out “are you alright?”

Winnie huffs an unamused laugh

“I just bit and drew blood from one of the men” she mumbles

“I suppose you did” he counters “but, I was more worried about what caused that reaction”

Glancing up at the red headed Lieutenant, Winnie pursed her lips, before turning away from him

“I’m fine. Won’t happen again” she mutters

Dick let’s put a low sigh, folding his hands behind his back, nodding

“While that is appreciated, i am more concerned about why you were in such a panic” he sighs “what you did, while not best case scenario, was not against the rules”

Winnie picks at the grass, drawing shapes in the dirt.

“i talked to Lieutenant Sobel, convinced him that having you on latrine duty would serve as better punishment than removing you from the airbourne” He continues

Nodding silently Winnie stands, dusting off her shorts she bites her cheek

“Thank you Dick- Lieutenant Winters” she stumbles “that was not necessary, i would have taken my punishment for my wrong doing”

Dick sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“As i mentioned, there was no technical wrong doing” he glances back towards the Easy company barrack “Shifty is pretty worried about you, kid, at-least tell him you didn’t die a tragic death”

Winnie nods.

——

The crickets chirp all night long, Winnie discovered. After a quick shower to remove the lasting feeling of dried blood off her chin, and a short conversation with Shifty that yes, i am okay. no i don’t want to talk about it right now. thank you for caring. Winnie once again found herself sitting on the steps of the barrack.

Her dog tags jingle slightly as she twists them along the chain, rubbing her thumb over her name and number. That was all she was. a number. Not a person with a family, a person with dreams. A number to be used and moved like a marionette.

The crickets used to remind her of home, when she would stay awake on the farm until the early hours. Just her and the moon, talking. Now it just reminded her of what she lost. Her home, her family, friends and comrades. The crickets taunted her.

Next to her tags, a small necklace. A present from her parents before she left. Winnie was not religious. She did not believe in God or divine intervention. Many of the men wore crosses or stars, or some form of religious jewellery. Winnie wore a small handmade cow charm on a silver chain. Home.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting outside for, her face going numb in the cold. She didn’t even notice the creaking of the door or the groaning of the planks under someone else’s weight.

A warm hand on her shoulder causes her to jump, pulling her fist back instinctively.

“Fuck!” she hisses “you scared the shit outta me!”

“I’m real sorry, didn’t mean ta frighten you” Eugene apologised “called out to ya, didn’t respond, like you were caught in some trance”

“Oh. sorry” Winnie mumbles, rubbing her thumb over her dog tags as she looks out at the grass “must have been lost in thought”

The two soldier sit in silence, only disrupted by the occasional shouts of protest from inside the barracks, from the various games of poker they played. Winnie often wondered what her life would have been like had she of not joined the ANZAC’s. Had her dad gone and died in the mud jungles of new guinea when his knee wouldn’t allow him to climb the treacherous slopes. Had her mother stuck to her denial of allowing her to go off to war. Would she have finished school? worked the farm like her brothers?

She often fell into pits of self guilt. Blaming herself for events out of her control because of an event she could control. She wouldn’t be scarred and broken had she of not deluded herself into thinking her position in the military would make a change. That the efforts of one small, scrawny girl from a town no one had heard of playing dress up, would affect the war. Just like the boys back home who wanted to be soldiers for pride and glory, Winnie played soldier.

“You want to ask about it.” Winnie muttered “That’s why you’re here right?”

Eugene shrugs, lighting up a cigarette before offering the pack to Winnie, who takes one with a tip of her head in gratitude.

“Everyone wants to ask ‘bout it” he counters

Smoke fills the air as the two sit in silence. Winnie wanted Eugene to let it go. To not wonder about her story, her time in the army. Contradictory, she wanted someone to care. To care enough that they would listen to every detail, tell her how brave she was, hold her hand and make her feel like a person again. Not some rabid dog with tags around her neck.

“What is it that everyone wants to know?” she sighs in defeat, a need to belong over taking her need to be distant.

“The scar” he scratches his cheek, the same place of Winnie’s scar.

With a huff, she flicks her cigarette to the ground, stamping it out. Maybe she didn’t want to belong that badly.

“Service wound.” she responds bluntly “I was on the front lines before coming here”

Eugene hums out in understanding, the only noise apart from the men inside, still playing cards.

“Where’d ya serve?” he drawls, taking a final drag of his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot

“Africa mainly, spent some time in New Guinea” Winnie picks at the skin around her nails.

Eugene nods along softly with the explanation, letting Winnie talk at her own pace.

“That don’t sound too fun, from what we get told about those places anyways” he settles on saying

Winnie let’s out a short scoff

“It definitely had its moments” she looks down at her hands, half expecting to see them coated a deep shade of red

“And the scar?” he asks feigning nonchalance

The memories of that night flood to her all at once. The german soldiers, the hot sand, the moon in the sky overhead. She can still feel the burning in her lungs some nights when it’s all to hard to breathe and her throat feels heavy under an imaginary weight of a forearm

“Africa” she mumbles

Nervously she fiddles with her fingers, the look Eugene gives her goes unnoticed

“Look. I just don’t want people to think of me differently” she mumbles “So if i tell you this, can you keep a secret?”

Eugene nods.

——

“That’s why I bit him.” Winnie concludes “I didn’t want to hurt him… I just… It’s been a long war and I got lost”

“That sounds awful… i’m sorry that happened to you Winnie” the cajun man drawls

“Not your fault” Winnie shrugs “you gotta keep that a secret. Or i will bite you on purpose.”

“Won’t tell a soul” Eugene smirks slightly at her threat

The door to the barracks slams open.

“Winnie! you gotta come play poker with me. I’m loosin’ real bad” Shifty complains “I’ll teach you how to play and everything”

Winnie raises an eyebrow, sending a skeptical look to Gene.

“You want me to play… even if you have to teach me?” she asks “How bad are you losin’?”

“Well I ain’t doing to good, that’s for sure” he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, a grimace on his face

“I don’t know Shifty I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable” Winnie hesitates

“She’d love to play” Gene answers

“That’s great! I’ll see you in there!” Shifty grins, walking back into the barracks

Winnie hits Gene in the chest with an open hand

“Why the fuck would you say that” she grumbles “I don’t wanna play poker.”

“You gotta make friends with ‘em at some stage” He retorts

“You know. I’m starting to really hate you yanks” Winnie complains, still she stands and dusts off her pants

She stops infront of the door, turning to look back at Gene

“Thanks for not telling anyone” she mumbles, quickly entering the barracks

——

The hooting and hollering of the easy men come to a deafening silence. Judgemental eyes mixed with looks of skepticism sweep her up and down. Winnie stands in the doorway, fiddling with her fingers behind her back

“Well come on Winnie!” Shifty beams “You can’t be any worse than me at cards”

Shifty sits down on one of the crates, card game abandoned in the middle of the make shift table

“I’m not playing cards with the crazy broad who tried to bite Joe’s finger off” the man in the bed beside her argues… Bob? Maybe it was Bill. Bill sounded right

“He shouldn’t have put his fingers near her mouth then” one of the men countered, someone she hadn’t met yet

“The crazy broad has a name” Winnie raises an eyebrow

“yeah yeah” Bill waves his hand in the air “just hurry up will ya, got me some money to win”

Winnie shuffles over towards the makeshift poker table, pulling up a crate to sit next to shifty. Dealing out the cards, Bill gives Winnie and Shifty the one set of cards.

“What are the rules?” Winnie asks, staring at the cards in her hand

“It’s poker, you don’t know how to play poker?” one of the men ask, He was tall and had a scowl.

“i’m just wondering what the rules are” she mumbles

——

It was with a withering glare that Bill laid his cards down as he folded. Winnie bluffing that her cards were a straight flush instead of two sevens. Most of the men stopped playing after the third round were Winnie cleaned them out of smokes and cash. Bill persisted, claiming that he needed to win his money back.

—

Sitting on the front porch with her dad as he beats her round after round at poker. Chocolate chip cookies and various sweets used as bets, her father had a pile that seemed to be a mile high.

“how do you keep winning daddy?” a six year old Winnie asks. Her front two teeth had fallen out and she waited desperately for the tooth fairy.

“practice, and knowing how to play the game and the players” he responded, ruffling her hair

“play the players? you can’t play the players daddy that’s silly!” she giggled

“my sweet girl, poker is just as much playing the game as it is playing the players” he pulls her to sit on his lap “if you know how to lie and bluff than you can get away with lots of things, like having bad cards in poker”

—

“Did I win again?” Winnie tilts her head in confusion

“Yeah you fucking win again” Bill grumbles

The men jeer and punch him in the arm as he glares at the girl collecting her winnings. She wouldn’t need to worry about cigarettes for months!

“You lost to a broad Bill” Joe Toye slaps him on the chest

“I know I lost to a fucking broad” he hissed

Winnie piled her cigarettes into her crate and collected the money she won into her wallet with the help of Shifty, who was beaming

“Keep the pack” Winnie smiled and threw him two packs of cigarettes

“Boy you really showed them!” Shifty smiled “I didn’t know you could play!”

“Beginners luck?” Winnie smiled

“I ain’t ever seen a beginner play as good as you” he stated

“Guess i was real lucky” She shrugged

“Crazy beginners luck” Someone called out

“Maybe next time you’ll get some too” she smirked

The man made his way over to Shifty and Winnie with a troublesome grin

“George Luz, i believe you stole four of my cigarette packs” he introduced himself

“Well George Luz, I would apologise, but i wouldn’t mean it” Winnie shook his outstretched hand

“Say what happened to your face” George asked

Winnie defensively rolled her shoulders back and set a glare on her face

“It’s rude to ask people about their scars.” she muttered

“I meant your eyes, they’re… purple, d’ya get punched?”

“Oh… broke my nose last night, when Sobel made me run currahee” She blinked in shock, not expecting her broken nose to be a point of interest

“Fuckin’ Sobel” He muttered “Doc fix you up?”

“Hm? oh yeah, Gene set it back into place” she confirms

An awkward silence falls over the conversation before George is called over by a group of the other guys, one of which was Joe. He turned around with a goofy smile

“And, hey, don’t worry too much about the whole biting Joe thing, some of us won some real money off ya” he winked and walked over towards the loud bunch.

Dumbfounded Winnie stood at the end of her bunk, a pack of cigarettes in her hand, looking up at Shifty

“People bet money on me to win?” she spluttered

“Well sure, odds were stacked against ya, but some of us made some money” he replied in his usual soft spoken tone

She thought about his response, a feeling of warmth spreading through her chest. Maybe she would fit in after all.

——

TAGS: @malarkgirlypop @mads-weasley @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @grumpy-liebgott @executethyself35

A/N: I really hope you guys are liking this fic! i’m really sorry it’s slow to start, i just want you guys to see Winnie’s struggles as a person before really getting into it, but please feel free to let me know what you think!

[riacte]

(Spoiler fic about the cast for the new Life series. Includes HEAVY spoilers on game mechanic / gimmick and session 1 from Martyn's POV.)

Martyn's a survivor.

And yet— Ren.

-

It's a new life, a new series on a new world. They're used to the song and dance now— when Grian calls, they reply. It takes time to coordinate everything and set it all up, to weave the lines of code in the fabric of the universe that surrounds them. Martyn sees familiar faces. They're all his friends— some distant allies, some distant enemies, some both. They play different roles in different lives. They live. They die. They move on.

The clock starts ticking. They have 24 hours to live. Three, two, one, zero.

Martyn's a survivor. He's always been one.

He likes quick paths, he likes knowing everything, he likes cutting corners and being smart. Everything he does is calculated, he’s shifty and suspicious even of his closest allies, and he’s quick to leap into action— too quick, in fact.

Martyn likes to think he's learned from his mistakes, but maybe he hasn't. Still, he dutifully collects his resources, banters with friends, same old, same old. Skizz gets killed once, then twice, and there are roaring demands for a new Boogey reroll. There's a crowd of people surrounding a poor Skizz, and the odds do not look good

Of course, Martyn gets chosen as the killer.

(It's something he's good at, isn't it? People trust him to kill them. The swing of an axe, the cold winter wind, a promise forged in blood—)

Martyn's a survivor. But he's also not heartless.

He's tempted, honestly tempted, in the way he was back when he was someone's Hand. But he can't do that to Skizz, can't make him lose more time than he already has.

Martyn goes around searching the four corners of the world like he does, but he isn't sure if he has anyone to call home. He meets a bunch of people, runs towards a burning tower (when has he done that before?), accidentally burns someone's cow. It’s great, until he realizes he has to kill someone to cure himself.

… It’s a lonely job, being a killer.

(It didn't use to be lonely. Martyn remembers cold fingers pressing the handle of an axe in his hand, a sincere plea, a reverent bow of a head. He swings. He kills. Instead of chopping off a connection, a new one is born.)

The TNT fails, and Martyn rushes away to find someone. He does get the kill, but he ends up fleeing for his life. (He remembers diving into the cool river to escape from mobs, and then he has flashbacks of salmon and a familiar smirk and an instinctive gasp of “Oh. Oh”, but none of that is here.)

Martyn's a survivor, he thinks, as he pushes himself out of the river, water dripping down his clothes, much like the solemn red-eyed figure he saw at a pool a lifetime ago. When Martyn steps on the riverbank, he doesn't see the salmon fisherman, doesn't inexplicably pass him a handful of netherwart. The water isn't to soothe the flames on his clothes, or to put out self-inflicted fire, and Martyn's heart isn't burning for someone else.

And that's for the better, isn't it? There's no one to distract him, no one to keep an eye on, no one to sacrifice for. No one to soften his heart, no one to be his vulnerability, no one to love. It's better this way. Maybe his survivalist instincts will take over. Maybe Martyn will actually win this time.

Martyn's a survivor. Perhaps it sounds heartless, but Martyn thinks he might be better off alone.

(In his defense, the first time he died because he was trying to protect the king and their kingdom. He remembers crying out for his king. The splatter of blood. The horror. The rage. It was real. It was real to him.)

(In his defense, the second time he tried not to get to attached, but they end up gravitating towards each other anyway. He was favoured by the moon— they were favoured by the moon. Their figures melted together in the shadows. But at last they had to fight to the death. What use is it, getting attached, when only one person is allowed to win?)

(In his defense, the third time he really did feel alone and he was having a jolly old time traveling solo. Him and his soulbound, they were both survivalists anyway. But then Martyn saw him, they were both yellow and brokenhearted and they both took damage at the same time from their soulbounds, it hurt, and Martyn understood. It was dangerous. Frivolous. Taboo. And Martyn wanted to survive.)

This time, Martyn wants to be smart. He knows people will inevitably form groups, some might turn on each other, and they'll all be desperately fighting against the inevitability of death. Martyn's smart. He's a realist. He knows what will happen.

And for the first time, Martyn's free. No fate pulling him and some old dog together, no moon orchestrating their meetings, no secret soulmates or whatever. He's free! He can do this all on his own, just like how he planned it at the start ("-going across the land searching the four corners of this world, I learned there was nothing in this world for me, nothing but walls, corners, edges."). He's free, just like how it was meant to be.

Martyn's a survivor.

(Martyn opens the list of members. It's time to edit the list for this new world. Grian's probably sending it out. Maybe Martyn spaces out for a second. Maybe it's a Freudian slip. Maybe Martyn's subconsciously longing for someone. Maybe he's still stuck in the past— red banners, purple cloaks, yellow sunglasses. Maybe Martyn misses him. Just maybe.)

And yet.

-

Treebark copium. Never getting over the famous beheading scene. And it's crazy how Martyn is the only CC who accidentally included Ren in his list (the only one who remembers him!!) so I guess I'm making fic out of it.

RIP Treebark. You will be missed <3

[cellard0ors]

It’s the 80’s. It’s a summer camp out in the boonies.

If there’s still wild boar running around in the canon time period of the game, what kind of critters and creepy crawlies might be just waiting to frighten or disgust the hapless couple?

No, in fact, that’s not a snake in Travis’ sleeping blanket. 😆

As a general rule, Travis doesn't have a problem with animals.

Give him a dog or a cat and he's more than happy to pet them and give them attention. Unfortunately his parents aren't fans of the simple pet type. No, his mother grew up on a farm and his father worked on one, so...

Farm animals.

Every year, every summer, farm animals were paraded around for the campers by one of the locals. And Travis - as a counselor - was supposed to help out. 'Supposed to' being the operative words, as the vast majority of them made him deeply uncomfortable.

The cows were big, the chickens mean, and the sheep...

The less said about the sheep the better.

Especially since one of them was always chosen as a camp 'mascot' - something Travis has never understood, much less liked. And this year is no different.

Brodie Mitchell from Miller Farms brings in this year's lot and like every year, the children eat it up. They 'ohh' and 'aww' as a parade of animals are brought to them to pet and learn about.

Bruce is a real winner here, as he makes sure to drop the word 'cock' into every conversation when asking about the rooster. The older kids snicker and the younger ones are lost as to why, and eventually David gets him to tone it down.

Nancy shows off some piglets and Angela seems at home with the cows which leaves Travis exactly where he doesn't want to be.

With the sheep.

Why can't they - just once - have horses? Travis could get behind showing off a horse. There was a brief period in time when he'd wanted to be a cowboy.

He was six and he'd watched a lot of westerns with his Ma and it was one of the few times they'd gotten along. Until he'd been fooling around with his toy rifle and accidentally broken a vase.

After that and his mother's subsequent... punishment for the destroyed item, he'd lost his love for the idea. But not for horses. He found them to be majestic beasts.

But none of the local farms felt comfortable bringing one, so he's out of luck and looking leerily at this year's collection of sheep. He has some note cards with facts and when Brodie comes over with the kids he'll help out, but Travis is still not at all thrilled at the prospect.

His heart, however, thrills as Laura suddenly appears to one side of him, "Hey."

It's a friendly greeting and he returns it, doing his best not to think back on how - just two days ago - they kissed. They kissed a lot. And now things between them are uncertain, but exciting and he has to do his best to act cool even though he feels like butterflies are clogging his throat, "Didn't think you'd be here."

"I'm here on a 'just in case' priority."

Travis simply nods, because he gets it. At the end of the day, animals are just that and one wrong move could result in an accidental injury. Hopefully nothing will happen. Although...

He takes a nervous peek at the sheep behind him, three of them in the makeshift pen, and Laura catches the action, her voice warm with amusement, "Um, you okay?"

He turns back to her and she gestures to the sheep, "You look like you think they're going to shank you."

He snorts, "They might."

"You don't like sheep?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

He looks at them and then at her again before edging closer to mutter, "It's their eyes."

She's fighting off a smile, but he wants it to blossom, so he continues in a sotto tone, "They're shifty."

Laura loses the battle, grinning widely and Travis eats it up, "Seriously though - their eyes are kinda creepy to me."

"Well, they're rectangular." She explains, "Their pupils, that is. And you shouldn't worry too much because they have no upper teeth so, think you'll be safe from them biting. Not that they won't, but?"

He blinks in surprise, "You're a sheep enthusiast?"

Laura shrugs, "An animal one."

She says it in that way where it's clear she doesn't want to divulge too much, but he wishes she would. Oh, how does he. Travis wants to know Laura inside and out - mentally and physically and the physically took off quite a bit recently and just as he considers asking her about it a cavalcade of kids and Brodie arrive.

Laura just gives him another smile and a wave as she steps away so the presentation can begin but Travis watches her go, his heart aching a little. As if to commiserate with him, one of the sheep lets out a near sympathetic 'baa' and he looks at it with a frown.

Fun facts or no, sheep are just...not his thing. Maybe if he was a wolf, maybe, but...

Travis looks away from the sheep with a sigh. Who is he kidding? If he was a wolf, the last thing he'd hunt is a sheep. He'd much rather be the type to go after a Red Ridding Hood type.

And Laura?

Definitely the type.

[sixminutestoriesblog]

pumpkins

Halloween just wouldn't be Halloween without large pumpkins grimacing and grinning at us from steps and railings, glowing from within with a ghastly light as the night falls thick around the neighborhood. The pumpkin jack o' lantern has become almost synonymous with Halloween, from the grinning pumpkin head worn by Ichabod Crane's Headless Horseman to Pillsbury's ready to bake tubes of colored pumpkin faced cookie dough. The pumpkin isn't just for jack o' lanterns either! The second the weather gets the first sharp bite of autumn to it out comes the pumpkin spice everything! Pumpkin coffee, pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie - its not even just for food. Pumpkin candles and tiny decorative pumpkins everywhere! If there is one overwhelming symbol of autumn, at least in most of the Western world, surely it must be the pumpkin. In fact, the pumpkin is so overwhelmingly 'autumn' themed that both Halloween and US Thanksgiving claim it as a vital part of the party.

So would it surprise you to learn that the pumpkin we recognize these days is a North American plant and its autumnal rein of power is fairly new?

Would it surprise you to learn that the jack o' lantern once looked very different than it does today?

(not if you spend time in certain circles of tumblr but we're going to dip in anyway)

Once upon a time, so the Irish story goes, there was a very lazy man called Stingy Jack. If he had only been lazy, this story would be shorter but he was also desperately clever. There are quite a few versions of the story but the basic of it follows a familiar route. Man has done something that either puts him in a spot of trouble with his neighbors or else is just feeling so lazy that he can't even fulfill one of his wants. Either way, the Devil sees an opportunity and shows up, offering to help Jack with his problem. Jack, like most folklore heroes, agrees. The Devil then turns himself into a silver coin, or climbs an apple tree or something of the kind, fulfilling his part of the bargain. Jack, however, has the power of God and anime crosses on his side and proceeds to use them to trap the Devil in his shapeshifted form or up a tree. Jack keeps him there until the Devil agrees to never bother Jack again. The Devil agrees, life goes on for Jack as per normal and one day he dies. He's been a shifty, stingy Jack so Heaven won't take him but now, pride still bruised or promise still in place, neither will Hell. All Jack gets from behind the closed fiery gates is a single thrown coal and the order to 'get lost'. And so, rejected by the afterlife yet still very much dead, Jack must wander the Earth forever, the single glowing coal the only light to guide him where he's put it in a carved vegetable to help light his way. Traditionally, people put out jack o' lanterns each Halloween or Samhain or All Saints/Soul's Day to both ward off evil spirits and to help guide the friendly dead, like wandering Jack, home.

Thing was, this story is older than the European discovery of the New World. Jack and his will o' wisp lantern, and the subsequent 'lanterns' left out by others later on, was a carved turnip.

Yep. That would scare me away too if I saw it left outside someone's house. Anyway, the carved turnip, or other useful tuber, stayed the go-to vegetable when it came to carved jack o' lanterns lighting up the late October nights until the mid 1800s when the Irish Famine drove many to immigrate to the United States. Traditions are adaptable and who would bother with a turnip when there were great, round, bright and easily hollowed out pumpkins right there? In no time at all, the idea of pumpkin jack o' lanterns had spread across the US and bam! A new king of autumnal vegetables was born.

Except the pumpkin is a fruit. A berry in fact.

Yeah, I had to wiki that one too.

The jack o' lantern isn't the only superstition around pumpkins.

In Appalachian tradition, if a cow eats pumpkin seeds it will stop giving milk. Pumpkin seeds are also used to get rid of tape worms in a process that involves fasting, milk and castor oil.

Pumpkins should always be planted on Good Friday for the best results.

Pumpkins are seen as signs of fertility, prosperity and abundance.

and finally, eating a pumpkin stalk will make you foolish (because eating it in the first place wasn't already proof)

[themculibrary]

Steve/Bucky 100k+ Fics Masterlist

Astronomy In Reverse (ao3) - pansley T, 184k

Summary: A year after the Winter Soldier failed his mission in DC, Bucky Barnes is doing his best to stay under the radar from both Hydra and Steve Rogers. His hope for a peaceful day-to-day life in limbo goes awry, however, when he meets Queens’ newest hero; a pure-hearted kid with a death wish and a ridiculous pair of red and blue pajamas.

The last thing Steve expects when he finally tracks Bucky down is that, not only has the man been living in Queens all this time, right under his nose, but also that, in the two years since they last saw each other, Bucky somehow acquired a kid.

Alternatively: How Peter Parker effectively fucks over Bucky Barnes, and also totally saves him.

Bucky Barnes: Intelligence Nerd (ao3) - LilyInTheSnow E, 114k

Summary: How Bucky Barnes accidently became an Avenger and married Steve Rogers. Or some shit like that.

Coming Home For Christmas (ao3) - Chiyume E, 118k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a good man. His friends have told him so on numerous occasions, but this might actually be more bordering on "stupid" rather than "kind". Because what else would you describe the act of inviting a complete stranger - and thief - into your home over the Holidays? Steve isn't quite sure what to call it himself, but fact is that when it comes to the case of Bucky Barnes, Steve's actually pretty okay with being referred to as an idiot, as long as it keep the other man safe. And to Steve's defence, it had all started out with such good intentions...

Dishonor On Your Cow (ao3) -mandarou E, 111k

Summary: “Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

From Dirty Paws and Creatures of Snow (ao3) - goldenraeofsun steve/bucky T, 108k

Summary: Bullies had mocked Steve's lack of magic for years, emboldened as Steve cast spell after spell that fizzled and died.

Steve didn't believe a word out of Bucky's mouth when he said that Steve was the most powerful witch he'd ever seen, but at least Bucky had until they reached Bonding age to convince him of the truth.

God's Righteous Man (ao3) - FoxyAtlas M, 232k

Summary: A story in which the serum doesn't affect Steve's size, the shield goes to Bucky, and they reunite years before the Battle of New York. Also, Steve is a punk, but that's canon.

A timeline starting with the Howling Commandos and going all the way to Pre-Infinity War.

Heat of the Night (ao3) - Kellyscams M, 186k

Summary: Based on this prompt: Steve is a cop. Bucky is the kept boyfriend of the super rich bad guy. Bucky doesn’t really have any information because his sole job is to look good when they go out. But he gets Steve’s card and he calls him and Steve meets him for lunch and coffee and dinner and Steve knows this could be a bad thing. He knows Bucky could be a trap. But the way he talks, how he smiles at Steve, laughs like it’s a sound he’s not used to making...Steve thinks he could be worth it. Steve thinks he could be worth everything. (via tumblr user disappointme)

Heaven and That Other Thing (ao3) - SpacePunkStevie E, 123k

Summary: ‘What are Sam and Nat asking you about all the time?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You look shifty, Steve. Be honest. Do you have a secret girlfriend? You can tell me if you do.’

Steve put a hand on each of Clint’s shoulders and looked him in the eye, ‘I definitely do not have a secret girlfriend.’ he told him, honestly.

Bucky Barnes is the owner of a cat sanctuary in Brooklyn, an ordinary guy by the Avengers' low standards, and a growing problem for America's favourite captain. Steve Rogers is publicly straight, endlessly bored, and has a habit of not fully thinking through his decisions when Bucky is around.

if i'm evil, still you're right beside me (ao3) - lacunalady E, 105k

Summary: “How can you say that?" Steve shudders, turning away. "I know the things you’re capable of. You’re not...a good person.”

There is a beat of silence after that. Steve is afraid for a moment that he’d angered a powerful man, one to whom he had his back turned. “You don't know me,” Bucky says finally, his voice very soft. "I can prove myself to you."

****

Steve Rogers didn't mean to stumble into mafia business that night--but stumble he did. After saving the life of infamous mob boss James Barnes, Steve finds himself trapped in a Brooklyn alleyway with a target on his back and nowhere to run. That is, of course, until Barnes offers him a deal; in return for saving his life, Barnes will offer him protection from Rumlow's retaliation. The twist? They have to convince the rival mob (and all of New York's juiciest tabloids) that they're madly in love.

just say you do (ao3) - biblionerd07 T, 173k

Summary: Steve just wanted a job. He wasn't expecting a marriage proposal. And he certainly wasn't expecting to accept.

Lemon Meringue Lies (ao3) - Nejinee E, 111k

Summary: Being a server at a high-end restaurant is working out well for Steve. All he has to do now is convince Bucky he's good enough to work as chef in the same restaurant. Steve's determined to prove to his best friend that all Bucky's talent and passion for food is worth something.

He's going to make it happen, even if he has to omit a few solid truths to get it done.

Meanwhile, Bucky has his own issues to deal with. Namely: trying his damndest to dig them out of poverty, make sure Steve's health is on the up and up, and not acknowledging his very longstanding desire for his best friend that is slowly eating him up inside.

A story about food, compassion and stubborn idiots in love.

Orphan Darling (ao3) - pandafish E, 148k

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes was not what Steve expected to see when he walked through the doors of S:t Michael’s Orphanage for Lost Children. First of all he was sixteen. Second of all, he was an omega. Steve, being an alpha, had never been allowed an omega pup to foster before. Third, and not least, the kid was drop dead gorgeous.

Or; Bucky is an omega orphan teen and Steve hastily has to take him on as a foster kid, which isn't easy at all considering the kid is going through the last stages of his maturing and is both very angry and very horny all the time.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun (ao3) - fallendarlings steve/bucky, sharon/natasha E, 102k

Summary: Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he’s down and it’s showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that’s all they are- friends. If only Steve didn’t slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky’s daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn’t turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn’t fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn’t trust, just because he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

Sugar Sweet (ao3) - ColorCoated E, 173k

Summary: College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

AKA a Sugar Daddy AU that no one was asking for.

Take Me to Church (ao3) - neversaydie E, 124k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a struggling artist. It's not as romantic as it sounds.

What Steve really wants is a job as a session musician. He can play enough instruments that he could make a decent amount of money doing it, but in New York there are just too many talented musicians and not enough jobs to go around. So he takes jobs in hipster bars, hotel lobbies, at weddings and bar mitzvahs and office parties.

If he gets one more request for Let it Go, he swears he'll find it within himself to punch a child.

He lives in a tiny, shitty apartment with Sam, who was his sort-of-boyfriend for a few weeks until he decided Steve's very domestic relationship goals weren't for him. They're still pretty much best friends, luckily for Steve, because when the regular pianist at Sam's dance company runs away to Canada he's recommended his roommate and got him the job before Steve even knows about it.

Dancers. Steve's going to have to spend his days with dancers. Great.

Targeting (ao3) - queenmab_scherz E, 149k

Summary: Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

Thawed Out (ao3) - auburnnothenna (auburn), eretria E, 159k

Summary: He's not the Asset. He's not the Winter Soldier. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. With the help of Steve, Sam and the Avengers, James takes the long, slow road to recovery. Nothing is as easy as either of them thought it would be.

The Fool in the Mirror (ao3) - thepinupchemist E, 111k

Summary: The Avengers, SHIELD, and the world at large have underestimated the pain that Steve Rogers is in.

The night after a near brush with a suicide attempt, Steve discovers the world of support omegas, and in his desperation for relief from the battlefield of his brain, demands to have one.

Enter Bucky Barnes: retired marine, millennial, amputee, brother, son, and support omega. He maybe, just maybe, can help a broken alpha heal in the twenty-first century.

To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most Of All (ao3) - perfect_plan M, 118k

Summary: Steve is a shy comic book artist and meets his new neighbour, Bucky Barnes.

In which there are awkward longings, meddling best friends, comic conventions, heartache, lemons, video games, dorkiness, dancing and two cute boys.

to memory now I can't recall (ao3) - Etharei E, 102k

Summary: While on a mission storming a HYDRA facility, James Buchanan Barnes touches one of the many strange alien devices collected by the Red Skull. He does this, in fact, twice— in the past, and in the future.

Next thing he knows, Bucky Barnes is opening his eyes in the 21st century, which is full of great gadgets and coffee, and at least includes his old pal Steve. (And, inexplicably, a different Stark.) Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier finds himself in the middle of World War Two, helping Captain America hunt down HYDRA (which is at least familiar), pretending to be Bucky Barnes (which is not), and figuring out the very noisy group of soldiers who call themselves the Howling Commandos.

What I Used To Be (ao3) - thepinupchemist E, 117k

Summary: When the police uncover a hidden sub-basement in the home of criminal Alexander Pierce and find a tortured omega and his three pups, they bring them to the Stark Omega Clinic, a non-profit dedicated to rehabilitating traumatized omegas.

After dark in September 2005, fourteen year old Bucky Barnes vanished. Eleven years and three pups later, he is far from the boy that went missing from a suburban neighborhood outside of Denver.

Steve Rogers is an alpha of some means. When he came into money, he decided to use what he had for good and sign up as a candidate to be a support alpha for his close friend Tony's charitable clinic. When he takes on the task of helping reintegrate Bucky and his pups into the world, he doesn't expect to fall so hard.

[shadsasaur]

bad news i remembered mass effect exists and thought about shifty looking andalite

why are the shifty cows legs so beefy. im cackling.

[nerfherdingteleporter]

What would've happened if they hadn't needed Dean in Hell?

If the demon who brought Sam back to life in the season two finale had just laughed and disappeared?

Idea number one (probable):

Dean holds a funeral

It's private, ritualistic. Sam is laid to rest like a king, his only court a brother whose hands are splintery from building the pyre.

The music is slow and sweet, a tender goodbye. Tears are shed, one at a time.

Then Dean gets into the car and starts driving

Maybe he drives forever, never sure whether he's running towards something or away

Maybe he finds a woman, and maybe he tells her what's in his past and maybe he doesn't, but there's always something missing from their house with the picket fence. After all, you can't have Americana without Uncle Sam.

Maybe he keeps hunting, desperation in every swing of a blade

Maybe he dies, somewhere on the road between states, an angry ghost or whiskey behind the wheel or a gun.

Maybe the Roadhouse never burns and he moves in next to Ash

Maybe he stays with Bobby

Regardless: still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, no longer quite whole

Because it was always hard to tell where he ended and Sam began, and Death did not take care to divide them cleanly

Idea number two (also probable):

Precisely the same as above except

Dean spends a week drunk and weeping and monologuing and mourning

When he claws himself out of the haze, Sam is...

To put it delicately...

Starting to smell like the rotting corpse that he is

So Dean holds his breath and his tears, covers Sam in a veil of salt, and sets the entire house on fire

The series began with Dean pulling Sam out of one burning house. It will end with him standing in the yard and watching Sam go up in smoke with another

Because yeah, that's where the series ends either way

I'm imaginative, but I can't see a Supernatural that isn't built around the brothers' bond

There's an epilogue, of course, but you need both Sam and Dean to truly work

Idea number three (I don't think the studio would've allowed it):

Look

Dean isn't near a grocery store

And he is a freak with no sense of boundaries

Bobby or Ellen or Jo roll up to check on Dean after like a week and he says he's okay

Which, sure, of course he's not crying, he's gonna spend his whole life getting over testosterone poisoning

But he's...why does he have so much food and why is it all meat

Where did he get it

Did he kill a cow or mountain lion or something

He is making jerky and he refuses to share and why is he looking so shifty-

Oh

My

God

Dean, no

(Dean, yes)

They haul him away from his homemade brother jerky and he stays at the Roadhouse while they try to socialize the Everything out of him

[personnage-neutre]

Thomson and Thompson, Detectives: 23

(A story by Paul Kinnet, illustrated by Hergé)

The farmhand didn’t seem particularly at ease. He shot shifty glances from side to side.

“I don’t know anything,” he said mulishly.

“That’s easy to say,” said Thomson. “How many cows are there on the farm?”

“Not counting you, of course,” said Thompson.

“Six,” said the farmhand.

“Show them to us!”

“Actually, for the last three days, there’ve only been five… The evening he disappeared, the boss told me to leave Roussette in the meadow by the Roland Woods for the night… When I went to look the next day, she was gone!”

“Aha!” said Thomson triumphantly. “There we are. And you knew why he wanted to leave her there?”

The farmhand tried retreating into an obstinate silence.

“All right,” said Thompson. “In that case, we’ll just call the police.”

“No,” said the farmhand. “It’s got nothing to do with me. The boss said he was going to slaughter her and sell her to two men from the city.”

Thomson and Thompson both let go of the farmhand’s arms at the same time. The farmer’s wife, who had been watching from a distance, descended on them like a fury.

“I saw everything,” she said. “Are you going to arrest him? Is he my poor husband’s murderer?”

 It was all Thomson and Thompson could do to restrain the good woman, who was trying to reach the “murderer” with her fists flying.

(To be continued.)

-

The next part of Thomson and Thompson, Detectives will be posted tomorrow by @tintinology!

Previous - Next