#and I don’t think racing with unnatural vehicles counts as knowing how to drive a car

[sturthepotofmadness]

So Twitter had another art challenge pop up, drawing your comfort characters on a road trip thingy. I think the format came from some Goofy movie. But yea, I did a thing. Feel free to join in.

[pixelzprince]

Circuit - Lore Fic

FINALLY!! This lore fic has been about two weeks  in the making now, and finally we can post it!

It’s a bit of backstory regarding Incandescent and Chill (and Wolvesbane, a bit) and the misadventures the thrill-seeking young dragons in the Hewn City get up to - basically an excuse to write a bunch of headcanons for the Shade. And let’s just say, when the most cursed city in an entire Flight territory is way more saturated with magic than usual.. something’s bound to go horribly wrong.

Warnings: Some mild horror themes, unreality/slight derealization/existential crisis stuff, you know. We’re dealing with the 10% More Eldritch Shade here after all. Also, mentions/implications of bullying, eugh.

Probably the darkest thing we’ll actually write out in our character lore, to be honest though things get better after this, it’s just a Not So Pleasant inciting incident-

With that out of the way, onto the show!

"So it's like, a ghost-themed biking group?" Chill had asked on the way to the venue. "Sounds.. kinda forced to me, to be honest." 

His neon friend let out a poorly stifled guffaw, briefly lifting a claw from the handles of her bike to hide her grin. "I don't think you're in any position to say that, Mister 80s band tees."

Chill frowned, clinging a bit tighter to Ink's shoulders as they zoomed through the night aboard the latter's tricked out three wheeler bike; Incandescent's parents hadn't allowed her to get a proper motorcycle, and all Chill had was his old mountain bike, though the Mirror couldn't truthfully say he felt all that safe clinging to the spiny shoulders of a Banescale for dear life on a vehicle meant for one.

Thus, he'd urged her to drive as slowly and carefully (the damage to his "coolness" didn't go unnoticed) as she could manage given her high octane lifestyle - giving them much time to talk on the trip. Plenty of time to sling banter and waste breath meant for more valuable discussions.

"Right, so... you really capitalize on that Halloween aesthetic?" Chill tried again, wording his question carefully to dodge Ink's edgy defenses; for how nice his friend could be, she was like a spring-loaded trap full of retorts ready to snap given the right ammunition. "Everyone thinks you're some sorta cult, but it's just for the rep, right..?"

Ink quirked a wry grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the city. "Something like that." Her spines rattled with something akin to excitement, making Chill quietly yelp and adjust in the seat to avoid getting skewered. "Reputation's power, right?"

Chill fought the conditioned urge to shoot some witty sarcasm back, though his contemplation was interrupted as the bike came to an abrupt halt, worsened by the sudden prickling of scales against his arms.

"We're here," Ink supplied.

She slid off the bike, radiant scales glistening in the neon lights of the shopping center. Chill barely caught the discarded helmet slung at him, the weight smacking against his chest and knocking the air out of him. He called after her as he fumbled, "Heavy helmet for a hard head!"

Ink gave no indication that she'd heard him, merely striding off towards the parking lot of a nearby pizza place. Chill frowned, disappointed in the lack of acknowledgement. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the childish irritation, before hesitantly beginning to follow Ink.

He kept his head held low, eyes shifting around to observe the creeping murk of the city's almost unnatural darkness; even at only dusk, even with the piercing glow of dozens of light sources (the motorbikes' custom lights, the LED of the storefronts, the subtle hues of his own luminous capsule trait, his overwhelmed mind rattled off) the Hewn City's oppressive night seemed to leech as much warmth and luminescence as it could.

And this was Light territory; a shudder went through Chill as he dared to imagine what Shadow or Ice's expanses looked like at night, away from most sources of radiance.

Slinking past an unrelated crowd congregated by the road (they smelled of pizza, sweat, and ozone, probably some sports team, ugh), the Mirror soon reached his destination, a small group of dragons around his age, some younger, all gathered in the darkest corner of the parking lot.

How convenient.

Some were lazily leaned against their bikes as makeshift lounges, while others stood almost like guards, alert and scanning the area. Chill caught the eye of one of the latter category, a Nocturne with strikingly patterned scales. Their eyes widened as their gazes met, before they scowled and turned away slightly. They muttered something to their companion, a rather anxious looking Fae who was half coiled by the tail around a metal-studded bike just a tad too big for them. The Fae looked almost as out of place as Chill, wearing a brightly patterned hoodie and trying to look tough, though the amusing juxtaposition did little to reassure him.

Just what kind of crowd was this-?

Ink tugged him over, draping an arm over his shoulder in a gesture that, outwardly, may have seemed protective. Chill frowned and glanced up to see the mischievous, "I'm dragging you into shenanigans" grin that betrayed otherwise. He wilted under her conniving gaze, silently resigning himself to whatever hazing or crimes this so-called "biking club" had in mind.

Vandalism? Petty crime? He couldn't say he was up for it, himself, but he hoped whatever the group of off-kilter rebels had planned would at least be fun in the moment. Anything but bike racing, at least...

The wind began to pick up a bit, drowning out some of the quieter chatter around him. He allowed himself to relax, if only a tad bit; perhaps they were just.. hanging out. Loitering was a crime in some places, right? Passive crime, "safe" crime. Chill, figuring that the others had no interest in hanging out with him, distracted himself by counting the treasure in his pockets, wondering if he had enough to get himself a slice of pie. He may have been half Fae, but anyone, enhanced Mirror senses or not, could smell the thick, syrupy scent of apple cobbler wafting through the air from the pizza place.

It was all... so passive. Boring, but pleasant.

Of course, something had to give.

After what seemed like ages of tense stillness, Ink spoke up suddenly, her voice rumbling like a foreboding storm cloud, which Chill felt from where he was currently hugged to her side. Of course, the calm before the storm was over.

Despite everything, her voice was a tad comforting, a familiar sort of "danger" instead of the alarm bells that had initially screamed from every other corner of this place. Chill clung to her subconsciously, glaring out at the others and trying to tune out whatever was said, to just focus on the pure tone... dissociate into the void, or however the halfhearted joke went.

Despite his efforts, a few words slipped by, "Summoning" and "power" and whatnot. Part of the ghost gimmick, he assumed. He shuddered from the sudden, brisk breeze that whipped by, though instead of being hugged closer, he was abruptly shoved towards the center of the crowd.

A yelp escaped him as he stumbled to regain his bearings, his claws painfully catching on some uneven pieces of concrete. He hissed, swaying, before he  glanced around to see what he'd missed in his half-attentive musings. 

When had they formed an actually cohesive circle..? And around him specifically..? He looked back at Ink for explanation, though she averted her gaze. The wind rushed by, now deafening. It'd picked up unnaturally quickly, and Chill soon located its source, a growl ripping from his throat as he once again met the eyes of the Nocturne.

Airborne Parchment?! Where would they get something like that? Instead of using the windbound material for its intended purpose of bringing life to drawn objects, the supposed leader of the group was merely willing forth elemental gales of wind into existence. They didn't seem to have much hold over it, but control wasn't the intention, merely... power.

"What are you doing?!" Chill hollered. He snapped out of his stupor, storming towards the amateur spellslinger. Their eyes seemed to widen a fraction, perhaps in shock, though before more words could be exchanged, their previously awkward Fae companion leapt into action, shooting forth and headbutting Chill right in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard hit, rather a precise one. Capsule dragons were known for their vulnerable stomach area, and sure enough, Chill reeled back, hardly able to prevent himself from crumpling to his knees back in the center of the circle. He was freezing and burning all at the same time, battered by brisk winds and the uneasy sort of thrum that rippled through the earth itself.

And yet, finally, through the gale, voices rang true. "We've never done this before, true.." It was a tinny, raspy voice that grated on Chill's ears. "But but but!! Someone naïve was needed to call forth the Shade. Call forth, not use as a vessel. He won't be hurt."

"So he's the flippin bait you mean?! Can it with the sugarcoat." A painful shockwave rattled Chill's senses as Ink screamed from somewhere above him. "And you've never done this before? He's a test dummy if anything-"

Her hands are blazing with light, undoubtedly, as she growled, "You said you knew what you were doing."

"Silence," a third, cool voice intercepted. It reverberated much stronger than the rest. "It has already begun. The artifact will draw the Shade near."

The Shade? 

Chill's eyes stung as he forced them open, and he instantly regretted it. His surroundings were awash with too-bright colors, the dragons around him more like blobs of light against the pitch of his surroundings. Alarms blared in the back of his disoriented brain, and he bared his teeth, trying to stand. His claws uselessly scrabbled against the suddenly slick concrete for some purchase, and by the time he managed to stand, he could faintly see something somehow darker than the existing murk rising from the cracks.

Liquid dripping upward, unburdened by the constraints of reality.

And all fell silent, as if the world itself paused to gaze into the void.

He watched it for a moment, himself, mesmerized by its headache-inducing, impossible blackness. It swayed in an inviting, inquisitive manner, hardly blotting out the dull panic slowly igniting in the Mirror's bones. Only the very edges of its fluid form seemed to reflect light, almost like a cartoonish outline that barely detracted from how otherworldly the substance was. 

The Shade..

A quiet, almost breathless whisper shook the stillness, "It worked..."

And Chill's world exploded into white hot pain, impossible fireworks set aflame behind his eyes.

~~~~~

A pulse. A pain. A thrum of negative power. 

A shockwave cuts through the souls of all in the crowd, invasive and calculating and yet erratic all the same. Wild to their perception and coiling and thriving with an intelligence beyond this world. It.. analyzes them, down to the core, samples their magic and minds, and then it's gone. 

The all-encompassing murk seems to draw in all light like an amorphous black hole. It's fluid and yet like plasma, burning and freezing, hollow and yet dense. It moves with a weight that's not quite physical, though fearsome and ancient all the same. Though as soon as the display of eldritch un-energy begins, it stills, settles, coalesces in the center of the circle in a more manageable form.

The summoning worked... or so they'd thought.

The Nocturne stares, captivated. The now useless parchment drops limply from their claws as they breathe, "Oh... Lightweaver.."

Ink breaks the stillness with a snarl, "Orbit!" and in an instant, the Banescale's upon the summoner, a tangle of claws and spikes and conflict. The summoner has no chance to react, the air knocked out of them as Incandescent crushes them prone to the ground and screams in their face, "What did you DO-"

They manage to whisper, "The summoning worked," though their heart's not in it. They cast a forlorn gaze towards the semi-solid insubstantiality. Their poor artifact, perfectly crafted to contain traces of the Shade... lost to this blunder. "At a cost..."

The sentiment sends Ink hysterical. "At a cost?" She devolves into wordless screams, all fight leaving her as she weakly shakes Orbit, who stares into the tearful gaze hollowly. Others break from their frozen state to attempt to break up the fight, life and energy, albeit a tense sort, flooding back.

Life cannot be paused for long, after all. The elements, however dimmed they may be, quickly resume their presence.

Ignoring the halfhearted tussle, the Fae from before hops down from his perch, silently striding past the "fight". His palms flare with magic, bright and cold and merciless, matching the shine of his eyes. Gone is the awkwardness, even in the face of the Shade itself.

The insubstantiality, which has collected into the form of the Mirror that it claimed, raises its "head" slowly, shakily in a false show of weakness. Its eyes, the only spots of light on it, blaze like searchlights, betraying its true strength.

The Fae speaks, that raspy tone adding a hint of menace to his words, "A failure.. another failure." He bares his teeth and snarls, "An expensive failure."

Another? The impossibly lightless plasma inches back, fan-like crests pinning back as it gazes into the wild eyes of disappointment and scorn. The Shade does not know fear... but all this creature knows is the impulse of fight or flight humming in its hollow core.

Something akin to a heartbeat pulses in its "chest". Quick, fearful, hardly present. Move, flee.

The fighting's died down, Ink dragged away from Orbit's huddled and silent form, and all the Banescale does is scream into the sky, into the speckled night. Yet the darkness she screams at is nowhere near the impossibility of the Shade which has claimed her friend.

Fear. The heartbeat stutters. Run.

Elemental ice, wicked and glowing, freezes the spot where the being had been mere moments before. The Fae spits a venomous string of blights, at the summoning, at the lost artifact, at the waste of time. But the residual darkness staining the ground isn't the Shade he'd aimed to erase.

It's already long gone, fleeing through the gaps of reality itself, through the tear from which it arrived.

~~~~~

Find safety.

Get out of there. Away. Far away.

But where..?

~~~~~

The fragment of Shade rematerializes in the subway. From the darkness itself, it's ejected, the ambient Shadow element of this world rejecting its unnatural presence and leaving it to sizzle in the fluorescent, buzzing lights of the few operational signs in this district.

And yet, it relaxes, collapsing shockingly solidly upon the cold, smooth pavement.

It's silent for once, the normal hustle and bustle of the city having been driven out by recent damages done to this railway. Even the usual stragglers, kids like Ink's club, who normally loiter around the "spooky abandoned subway" for kicks have long since either gone home or to the park to camp out.

Not even the most daring of delinquents would test their luck napping in the hollow depths of the earth. Not in Light territory, especially.

They say Light, for all its pristine brightness, hides something eldritch. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows after all.

Perhaps, this is that something.

With that thought, the insubstantiality lets out a cry.

Get to safety. Hide.

It manages to stand, first shakily onto all fours, then to its hind legs. It limps towards the darkest corner, baking in the light, before it stumbles and trips to its knees again, gasping. The air passes through it, not that it needs to breathe; nonetheless, it curls up and forces itself to inhale and exhale, if only to replicate the life that it'd sensed all around it just minutes before.

Breathe.

It scrabbles at its chest its claws finding little purchase in the slick, incorporeal material making up its form. Frictionless, there's no way to scratch through to tear out the artifact inside, now bound to its metaphorical core.

It’s alive. ALIVE.

Yet the mere contact sends it reeling, light shimmering from within and just barely reflecting off its body, enough to outline its limbs among the tangled darkness, to give some definition to its form.

It’s… I’m real. I'm alive. I'm real.

The tentative balance of energy and nothingness snaps, allows life to win over, if only slightly. He remembers, his eyes glowing not with a pure, absent white like before, but with a blend of violet and fiery hues, a rapidly shifting twilight twinkling in his gaze.

Time releases a breath it'd been holding since the threads of reality first snapped.

They'd summoned The Shade, of all things. They'd tethered it to an artifact, which had tethered itself to him. He could still, if only faintly, feel his own magic humming beneath the oppressive gloom which coated (comprised?) his form, but it was.. contaminated, thoroughly so.

His poor excuse for a heart thumped once more, only seeming to beat prominently when he was struck with powerful emotion. He held his paws to his chest, focusing on that sound, willing it to continue, to prove he was still of the living realm.

Yet the heartbeat stilled soon enough, merely the erratic pulsing of a cursed artifact attempting to keep the Shade in check. To keep things in balance, in control.

The altruistic part of him was glad that such an artifact was now useless to that group. With such potential, to control even a piece of an otherworldly horror... he didn't even want to imagine what it could be used to bring about.

Petty crimes, he at least hoped. Petty crimes deluxe edition, don't get caught.

A bitter laugh escaped him, distorted and crumbling in the umbra. No need to worry about crimes now, at least. Their power... it was his now... it was him now. 

Or perhaps he was its. 

He waved a claw, watched it seem to flicker as if already cutting through atoms in the air with a single gesture, leaving smoky afterimages behind.

As the memories of the past thirty or so minutes flooded back, he realized, he can do just that, he has done just that, slipped out of the physical plane and just moved, perhaps faster than light for a moment, even. 

So that's what teleportation really was.

The childish part of him would've relished in the idea of obtaining cosmic power, like some sort of superhero, though he knows better. His own magic fights constantly within, a storm of elemental energy caught in an endless cycle of extinguishing and reignition, with the artifact in the center, regulating it all.

He's no superhero, and this is no origin story.

He stared at the high, arching ceilings, at the darkness that would've once strained even his Shadow element eyes.

He's no superhero... he's just a circuit.

[9g99]

Quiet Intimacy - C.H.

summary - Friends can sleep in each other’s beds, but friends don’t treat each other like you and Calum do.

word count - 3.9k+

author’s note - slow burn best friends to lovers AU again?? u betcha babey. you know that one cocktail chat where calum’s like ‘oh wassup baby’?? yeah i got inspiration from that. enjoy :-)

warnings - swearing, depressive episode/anxiety attack (it’s mainly just breakdown from stress u kno??), mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of water and (feeling like one is) drowning, fluff + angst

Calum thinks it’s pathetic - the situation he’s in. He’s not one for cliches and yet he’s living one each moment he continues to breathe. I mean truthfully, there’s nothing wrong with it, but he knows how this will complicate things more. Or maybe it won’t but he doubts that because friends shouldn’t think of friends like they are heaven, like they embody light and joy. Friends shouldn’t long to hold the other’s hand and imagine kissing their lips when their smile is so bright that its elegance transcends to you so you’re smiling back at them. Most importantly, friends shouldn’t like each other as more than friends and more as lovers.

“You were in my dream last night,” you admit to Calum. You take a sip from your water.

Calum chokes on his spoonful of cereal. He didn’t expect those words to come from your mouth. The beating in his chest quickens. He just assumed what he had was unrequited, but with those words, Calum thinks maybe it’s not. Maybe the feelings are mutual. Maybe your heart heard the song his played for you, the sweet melody of a tender affection for the beautiful angel who makes his heart race but also calms it with its kind nature. Once he recovers from his coughing fit, he replies, “Oh yeah, what about?”

You can’t help but admire how natural it is having Calum here. Your heart flutters at the domesticity. This is what people aspire for. They want something simple, something compassionate, something warm, and something enduring. You swallow another mouthful. “It’s not like anything weird, so chill.”

“Last time you told me about your dream that you said wasn’t weird was early 1900s themed and you had a pet dragon,” he retorts.

You glare at him and explain, “Well it’s not like that, so shut up and let me talk.” Calum rolls his eyes. “Um, well it was us at Ikea, that furniture store, you know the one --”

“I know what Ikea is (Y/N),” Calum intrudes. You throw a crumpled napkin at him. Calum quickly dodges it and watches the annoyance slowly build in your eyes. You scold, “Hey, I said don’t talk, but anyways we went to Ikea and you know that movie 500 Days of Summer?” Calum nods. “Yeah it was like that. We were exploring Ikea like Summer and Tom did. I thought it was nice and fun and- hey why are you looking at me like that?”

A smirk graces Calum’s lips, but Calum wouldn’t say it’s one. It’s not a smirk, but rather a bashful grin where only one corner of his mouth tilted up, while his eyes gleamed at you with hope and curiosity. The look on his face was a consequence of your earlier confession about him - you had a dream about him, a dream with him where you two went on a date. His innocent questions left you to incomprehensible sentences. “Does someone have a crush on me? Does (Y/N) specifically have a crush me, Calum Hood?”

“What? No. Me liking you? Please, that’s like, um, that’s like-,” you stutter.

“Yeah, okay, sure you don’t,” he chides. “A dream is a wish your heart makes, just saying.”

And his heart wants you. His heart dreams for you.

Calum wonders if you’ve ever considered him as something more than a friend. You probably don’t because this quiet intimacy you two have can be just as platonic as it can be romantic.

It was grocery day, meaning you and him would go to the supermarket to buy whatever foods you thought you were low on stock in your apartment. It was a joke at first for Calum to tag along when you went to the store, but now it feels unnatural if he’s not there. You accustomed to Calum’s commentary on which apple looked better than another, why it’s better to cut your own melons than buy the pre-cut fruit, his hesitance, but he quickly got over that uncomfortable feeling, of waiting in line at the register when you forgot one item and scurried back to the aisles to find it, and most of all, his insistence to always buy at least one box of his favorite cereal. You never do, of course, but he notices that you somehow always have it stocked in your pantry despite all his pleads.

This time around, it felt different. You didn’t want Calum to be there with you. You wanted to grocery shop alone for once. Maybe it was because you had a crap day at work and wanted to indulge in your stash of ice cream, but then you remembered you ate all of it last time Calum came over, so you felt even worse on your way back home. Maybe it was because the elevator broke down and you had to walk up four flights of stairs just to get to your apartment that you felt even snappier and annoyed that day. Maybe it was because you didn’t get a call or email back about your application for another job to quit your current one. Maybe it was a culmination of things that made your body feel like it was slowly walking down the shore of a beach. With each step, the tide pulled you further. The pull of the water was driving you into deep depths to the sea. The further you walked, the harder it was to move your body back to its origin. Your movements stalled as you noticed as a wave begins to form. Your breath quickened in and out of your lungs, because you’ve never been this far out before by yourself; with other people, yes, but alone, no. The wave gained more momentum as it swam to you. Just as it struck down on you, you heard a voice call out your name. Once it hit, the water ran and so did your tears.

You thought you were drowning, that you were done for, that this was the end. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move, but you smelled a hint of musk in the water. Wait, that doesn’t make sense.

It was then you realized you weren’t in the ocean trapped in a current. You opened your eyes to find your body trapped in strong arms. The unknown arms keeper whispered soft reassurances to you in a long hug. Your senses slowly regained when you turned your head up and saw a familiar face.

The dark colored hair, the slight stubble on their chin, the soft cotton shirt, the trace of smoke hidden in the aroma of their cologne, and the beautiful plump pink lips.

Calum whispered again to your hair, “you’re okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

You sighed into his neck. His arms pulled away as he led you back to your front door. He set you down on the sofa as he prepared you a glass of water. He handed you the cup and wouldn’t take it back until you finished all of its contents.

You hated this part, the part where Calum pressed on and on about what’s wrong and what happened to you. You prepared for his splurge of questions, but it never came. Instead he cleared his throat and breathed, “I, um, I saw the list.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Calum grabbed for something in his pocket. “The grocery list. I got your stuff already. Thought I forgot somethin’ here Tuesday and was gonna ask you to look but remembered you gave the spare, so I kinda just came over and saw it,” he admitted. “I know we usually go together, but I had to get some stuff too, so thought mind as well do yours too. Sorry if that’s like a no-no. I won’t do it again.”

A gentle smile drew on your face at Calum’s shy rambles. You stood from the couch and pulled him up. Your arms wrapped around his torso as you mumbled, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Calum knew he shouldn’t leave you in such a fragile state, but he really needed to get back home and tend to Duke. He mustered the confidence. “I know you just got home, but do you wanna head over to my place? We could just do take out and you can take the guest room if you’re still tired.”

During the drive to his, you couldn’t keep your hands still. The crying session was over, yes, but the stress was still there and you had no release of that. At a red light, Calum reached for one hand and interlaced his fingers with yours, a reassurance that he was there for you and you aren’t alone. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand and rested your entwined hands on your thigh once the traffic light switched to green. As the tires ran to their next destination, Calum’s thumb ran soft and slow laps on your skin.

When you finally reached his house, you didn’t want to let go. If you left the vehicle, then the intimacy that transpired in Calum’s car would also disappear. Those twenty minutes of peace, quiet, and simply being together, like what you had was something more, something more than what you and Calum simply were - friends - would soon fade into a distant memory of a romance that set ablaze for fleeting moments but quickly put out.

Calum turned to you, still holding your hand. He spoke, “Hey, I think we should at least get in before the sun sets, no?”

You exhale loudly. You mumbled, “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

You pulled the tab to open the car door, but Calum was already there outside your door. He was breathless. He chuckled before squatting in front of you, still gasping for air. “Can’t let my best girl walk again after those four flights of stairs. Come on, hop on.”

Everything after the piggy back became hazy if someone asked you to describe what happened that day. There was one thing you didn’t expect to find a picture of you asleep on Calum’s chest with his arm around you on his sofa on your phone. You most certainly didn’t expect for Ashton’s text in the group chat to say, “and you two say you aren’t together.”

Calum understands how having feelings for his best friend can either make or break the two of you. That’s why he’s concealed it from you for so long. He only told the boys and he fears they might be the ones that will tell you in a drunken stupor or out of pure accident, but he knows they wouldn’t. They’re his boys and their friendship was always greater than putting one of their love interests at stake over friendship.

Take right now for instance. You’re with the boys, but you’re leaning against Calum as you watch Ashton instruct them how to make some concoction of an alcoholic drink. Michael quickly pours in the alcohol, while Luke steadily pours in some type of chaser - fruit punch, you think it is but you’re not too sure - to mask the putrid taste of vodka.

You whisper into Calum’s ear, “Do they want to die tonight or?”

Calum laughs at your remark. He isn’t even sure why they’re throwing a party. Maybe it’s to celebrate how well received the released singles for their upcoming album have been, but still they usually don’t go all out like this. Calum is about to respond, but before he could speak, Luke shouts, “Grab your cups, lads and non-initiated lad, (Y/N)! Time to drink! Cocktail chats, let’s do this!”

Calum sees Ashton add a paper umbrella and slice of pineapple to two vibrant colored drinks that you’re holding. He sighs before taking the glass from you. “You know you don’t have to drink? Like we, I mean the boys and I, are just doing this for the fans yknow? I’m sure there’s water somewhere.”

You smile at his concern. “It’s okay. I’m not going to drink much after seeing all that vodka Michael poured in and then Ashton snuck in, so I’m good.”

He chuckles at your distaste. You never really were a big drinker like them. They say the gasoline taste goes away, but it’s not true. Well it’s partial true; however, it takes a whole lot of time, and whole lot of other alcohol and maybe something non-alcoholic before the gross liquid becomes semi-palatable. 

You don’t know what song on the album they’re at after your fifth drink, so much for not drinking huh. You just know makeshift cocktail in your hand tastes good. You were weary at the start, but once you tasted it, you didn’t seem to mind. Michael even admit that it was actually two parts fruit punch and one part vodka, because they knew they shouldn’t get too hammered while filming. Still, the amount you’ve consumed is far less compared to the boys drank so far.

Noticing a bright glow on your face, Calum approaches you with languid, yet flimsy steps. He nudges your shoulder and you quickly hide your phone in your butt pocket. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little tired, yknow?” you reveal. Your eyes search around the room and you quickly ask, “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Calum pauses, “I think it’s down that hall and first door on your left. It’s one of the two doors over there if I’m wrong.”

As you venture to the hallway, you hear Calum scold himself. Fuckin’ idiot why didn’t you walk her there?

One of the consequences of alcohol: you have to pee so fucking much. It’s worse than water, because you have to pee like every twenty minutes. You get bloated when you drink too much and god, you hate drinking. You swear you’re done drinking after you wash your hands, but are soon mistaken when Ashton forces two drinks in your hands once you exit. Luke spews nonsense into your ear when you reach the back wall as Calum gets ready to film his part for the song. Luke starts, “You know this was supposed to be band mates exclusive only.” You raise your eyebrows with slight interest at Luke as he rambles. “But we have a soft spot for you.” You give Luke a soft smile to show you’re listening and place the two drinks Ashton gave to you on the side table. You’re an earshot away when Luke mutters “especially Calum,” but you only hear a mumble about Calum and nothing else until Luke’s little spur is interrupted by Ashton yelling at him to grab another drink before he films the next shot. Luke mutters a quick apology before throwing his and another phone into your hands. It’s Calum’s because you see the rocket sticker you put on his case after you bought a batch of 100 stickers off the internet for cheap. His phone goes off from a text and you see that his background is the picture Ashton sent two months ago, the one where you and Calum are snuggled together on his sofa. Your heart flutters at the sight. He’s so loving, so gentle, so kind.

Calum’s voice echoes in the living room and you look up from your spot. He’s trying to explain something, but he’s so giggly that he can’t finish his story properly. It comes in short takes. You slowly sip on your drink as you watch him talk to joyfully about the new music he’s about to release.

“Let me tell you how it went down,” he starts, “they come into our room and we’re like --” He notices you watching and absentmindedly voices his thoughts, “Oh wassup baby?” He shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t put that in,” he laughs. “They come into our room and --”

Everything Calum said after came as white noise. You saw him directly look at you when he said that line. ‘Oh wassup baby?’ And the picture on his lockscreen? You feel as time has slowed and your main focus on Calum transforms into the ikea date again. You’re imagining what it’s like to hold his hand, what it’s like to kiss his cheeks without it being a problem, without Calum’s teasing, what it’s like to fall asleep in his arms and not worry whether you did something disgraceful. Your heart soars at the thought of being in a relationship with him. It’d be wonderful, such a beautiful, wonderful thing.

It’s been an hour and a half since the filming stopped and you’re just lazing on the patio chair admiring the view from Ashton’s house. You hear the screen door open, but don’t bother to check who it is. You assume it’s Calum. “Hey (Y/N), we’re all heading out, but I don’t trust myself with driving so is it cool if we crash here?” You nod at his words, not really listening to what he’s saying. “There’s only two spare rooms and Luke and Michael took the one with two beds so, um, do you wanna share? Or do you want to sleep by yourself? Or-” You continue nodding but not really paying attention. “(Y/N). Hey (Y/N).” His fingers snaps. “Do you want to share a room and sleep?” You stopped nodding when your brain registered ‘room’ and ‘sleep.’

You respond weakly, “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

You blink and you’re being lifted in the air. You squeal in Calum’s arms. He chuckles loudly at your antics. “Can’t have my best girl walking in a place she’s never been to. Come on, let me carry you.”

You just plugged in your phone by the time Calum exits the bathroom after showering. You hear his breath hitch when he enters the room. You scrunch your eyebrows. “What do I have something on my face? Oh my god, is there a spider?” Calum quickly shakes his head. “Then why’re you looking at my like that?”

“Like what?” he asks.

“I don’t know. You’re just - ugh,” you groan. “Like that!” You point to his face.

“(Y/N), I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Calum quickly answers.

“Like, like all soft and puppy like. Do you wanna kiss me or somethin’?”

Calum chews on his cheek trying to muffle a laugh, but in his head, it’s going a mile a minute with all his thoughts processing. Do you know about his crush? Did someone tell you? Was it Ashton? No, was it Luke? Calum saw you with him after you used the restroom. Fuck. “Me? Want to kiss you? That’s gross. We’re friends for gods sake. Me wanting to kiss you that’s like, that’s like --”

You unleash a frustrated sigh when you heard ‘gross’ and ‘friends.’ You mutter to yourself, “Wish I could see you as the friend you see me as.”

Calum’s eyebrows furrow. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that and he’s too nervous to say anything about it.

You get up from your spot and search for extra pillows and blankets. You announce, “I think I’m gonna sleep on the couch.”

Calum is confused. You two have done this before. Maybe not on a bed, but you’ve fallen asleep next to each other. You’ve woken in each other’s arms before and every time you do, it’s pure bliss, to wake up in the confines of someone’s warm embrace, to feel their heartbeat, to watch them gain clarity from a drowsy gaze, to see their sleepy smile. It’s a lovely thing to sleep beside someone.

Calum scurries when he sees you’ve finally found the blankets. He rushes, “Wait, don’t leave. I need to tell you something.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Really? Can’t it wait til tomorrow?”

He can tell you’re drawing a veil over yourself again. Whenever you get uncomfortable, you always pull a disappearing act. You get scared. You panic. Then you flee. That’s how it always goes, but he can’t have you vanish even the slightest when he’s this close, when he has hope that the feelings he has are being reciprocated. He knew that eventually he would answer to his feelings, but he didn’t expect it to come now. The call came too soon and it wasn’t him waiting. It was you on the line.

He rushes, “Yeah. It’s about that one person I told you about a couple months ago. I have updates.”

Calum pats the side of the bed, offering you a seat. Instead of sitting, you lean against the closed bedroom door in front of him. You’re too nervous that if you sit, you might not be able to stand after and free yourself from him. You need to put a distance. You need to put up your guard. You shrug your shoulders as a sign for him to continue with his story.

He licks his lips. His mind is working overdrive trying to say the right words. He can’t articulate things like this on the spot. He stares at the ground trying to formulate coherent sentences. “Um so yeah, they’re a good friend of mine.” You roll your eyes at him. You knew that already. “And they’re just so good to me, yknow? They always have my foods stocked up in their cupboard, which is really sweet. Um I held their hand a few weeks ago and they have really soft hands. Also, they gave me a spare to their place, so I stay over a lot. And god, they always fall asleep on me when I come over to theirs and it’s really refreshing waking up with someone just there, yknow? Like you know how we tend to fall asleep on the couch during movie nights? It’s like that. And god, it feels so great to like your best friend and know they like you back.”

That last line was a bit cheeky, but he can’t help himself when you’ve given him hope.

You, on the other hand, feel your body shut down. The happiness and joy exuded out of Calum and you couldn’t stand it. All hopes of kindling a romance with him is gone. It’s wrong of you to be jealous of Calum’s love life going well, while yours is clearly sinking. You fear that you could be getting replaced and left for nothing. You felt like you were in the ocean again, but this time you could look back. When your body pivoted in the water, you saw no one on the shore calling for you and that’s when you knew you were done for. It was a mistake, but you were already too deep. Your emotions and feelings were smothering you. The water became too chaotic for you to withstand and you’ve never been a good swimmer to begin with. Your chest is starting to hurt because you can’t breathe with all the water surging at you. You feel a tear leak from the corner of your eye but you pretend it didn’t fall in hopes that Calum didn’t see. You somehow muster enough air and fake a smile. “That’s great Calum! When do I get to meet the lucky person?”

Calum parades an awkward smile now. “That’s the funny part.” He scratches the back of his neck, still looking at the ground. “You kind of know them.” 

Now you’re confused. You don’t remember meeting any new friends of Calum’s.

Calum gets up from his spot and grabs his phone. “Hear I’ll show you a picture of me and them together.”

Calum hands you his phone and you stare at his lockscreen. 

Tears build in your eyes, but they aren’t strong enough withstand the storm in you so they begin to crumble and fall. You don’t know what to say. When you look up to Calum, he sends you a gentle smile. He wipes the loose tears, while his doe eyes shine brightly with the adoration he has for you.

“It’s you. It’s always been you.”

a/n - thank u for reading :-) feedback is always appreciated !!

[writethelifeyouwant]

Chapter 2: I Need a Vacation

Characters: Spencer, JJ and family, Emily, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Penelope, OFC

Word Count: 1595

Warnings: Fluff and friendship :)

Summary: I was on vacation and then I was thinking about what they would be like on vacation and then I pushed my loneliness and need for love onto Spencer and this is essentially gonna be super fluffy and probably corny and just roll with it. Am open to taking constructive criticism as well as scenario suggestions! Because I have some semblance of plot laid out but that pesky middle bit is non existent at the moment. So enjoy your fluffy team bonding on a beach with eventual Spencer love interest! This work is cross posted on AO3 and FFN.

“I call Rossi!” Tara’s hand shot into the air despite no one asking for a physical demonstration of the dibs. Despite Garcia’s elaborate planning she hadn’t exactly worked out the carpool rota to everyone’s satisfaction.

“All right the lovely Tara, step right up and-“ Rossi spun back to the waiting crowd of teammates with the most put on face of regret they had ever seen him execute, “-oh, that’s right, with luggage I can only fit two people in here.” The eccentric Italian actually snapped his fingers in a classic ‘oh darn’ gesture before he swung into the drivers’ seat of his Buick and cranking the radio to drown out the purr of his engine.

“See you there guys!” Tara’s shout carried back as she waved her hand out the window back at the huffy crowd. The remaining agents and accompanying family stared after the fading car.

“Did that really just happen?” Luke asked. He was a little miffed, he had ben gunning for a ride in that car. At the back of the group JJ was trying to console a crying Michael, who was insisting he didn’t need his booster seat anymore since Henry didn’t use one. JJ and Will continued to wrestle their boys into their car while Reid, Garcia, Alvez and Prentiss looked at each other before racing towards Emily’s SUV.

“I call shotgun!” Reid’s long legs gave him the advantage in sprinting towards his seat and solidifying his claim over the spot. As it was Emily’s car, she claimed driver, leaving Penelope and Luke to slide into the back row passenger seat. Matt and his family weren’t joining them, and Garcia had only leet him off the hook when he told her that they planned on taking the Disney World vacation he’d been promising his daughters for a few years now.

As the two vacation bound vehicles pulled out of Rossi’s driveway and made their way towards the highway, significantly behind their lead car, similar battles for control of the radio played out amongst the passenger rows. Michael and Henry were in a very intense disagreement about which Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack to play. Michael didn’t know the difference but he knew he wanted to beat his brother. In Emily’s car Garcia had commandeered the radio through some gadget that put the whole car at her mercy. Luke frequently made grabs for her phone to change the songs she was singing along the loudest to, purely in an effort to rile her, but he secretly enjoyed the majority of the music beating through the speakers beneath his feet.

“You know, Emily, with the standard traffic patterns around DC at this time of day if you take the next exit and speed a little bit on some of the backroads we can beat Rossi to the hotel by approximately 15.7 minutes.” Spencer had a paper map open on his lap, purely for his own road trip entertainment.

“How fast is speeding?” Emily asked as she signalled to pull off at the tree lined exit.

“Um, an average of 72 miles per hour should be sufficient.”

“Oh we are gonna beat him there by way more than fifteen minutes,” Emily grinned. Spencer gulped nervously, slightly regretting his suggestion, but vowing to relax and enjoy the ride with his friends to the best of his ability.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

True to Spencer’s calculations, Rossi’s Buick was nowhere in sight when Emily pulled into the little parking lot behind the hotel. Garcia had chosen a small family-owned place right on the beach front and essentially rented out an entire floor for the team. All the boys and Tara had insisted on separate rooms, JJ, Will and the kids were in their own, and Garcia and Emily had opted to share, looking forward to what they imagined was going to be a week-long drunken sleep over.

“I’ll go check us in!” Penelope rushed out of the car, leaving all but her purse behind.

“And I’ll go check out the bar,” Emily made finger guns at the boys who stood at the back of the car, waiting for the trunk door to finish lifting itself off of the luggage.

“Yeah, we’ll just get thee bags,” Spencer shouted sarcastically. “No worries guys!” As he and Alvez proceeded to divest the SUV of its contents Rossi and Tara pulled off the main drag and slid perfectly into the adjacent spot.

“No sign of JJ?” Rossi called as he hopped out from behind the wheel, cracking his knuckles in front of him.

“She texted me when we were pulling in, the boys needed a bathroom break. They’ll be here soon.” Spencer slung his duffle around his shoulder and grabbed the handle of Emily’s small black suitcase. The agents trooped inside all very ready to find Emily and the bar.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Despite the fact the their drive hadn’t been more than a couple hours, the effort of moving a large group, including children, from point A to point B had drained everyone’s energy. After their couple of welcome drinks and a casual dinner of burgers and wings in the diner across from their hotel, the agents all crowded into JJ and Will’s room to embrace their mandatory relaxation while Michael clapped and giggled along to one of the Disney movies JJ had packed with them. Bags of popcorn and chips were tossed to strategic points among the adults who were strewn across the two large beds and obligatory armchair that furnished the tiny lodging.

“I thought this movie was supposed to be for children?” Rossi whispered conspiratorially to Garcia as the cartoon man on the screen quizzed his companion about her fiancé’s foot-size.

“Relax, they don’t know what it means,” she waved away his concern, grabbing for the popcorn.

“I know what it means,” Henry mumbled while maintaining eye contact with his handheld game.

“Not when you’re sitting next to your mama you don’t,” Will whispered warningly into Henry’s ear, and Spencer tried to stifle a chuckle in his mug of tea but was relatively unsuccessful.

“What’s going on over there boys?” JJ called from across the room where Emily was braiding her hair.

“Nothing,” Spencer and Will chorused, sharing a smirk.

At the conclusion of the film the team began to filter out to their respective rooms, stifling yawns and waving goodbyes as they made their way leisurely towards their beds. Rossi and Reid made their way to the far end of the hall. Stopping at his door Rossi turned towards Reid.

“Can I tempt you? I brought a bottle and a box,” Rossi raised his eyebrow and jerked his to indicate he wanted Reid to follow him in. Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he considered.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and followed Rossi through the now open door, hands diving into his pockets in a momentary act of self defence before he gently chided himself, reminding his brain that he didn’t need to protect himself against anyone on his team. He knew Dave just wanted to check on him, make sure he was keeping a good grasp on things in the face of all the changes the team had been forced to go through in the previous months. Another thought occurred to Spencer as he watched the older man pour him a measure of scotch in a hotel mug. Spencer had lost his best friend when Morgan left, and now that Hotch was gone, Dave had lost his. Protecting Spencer, looking out for him as Hotch and Morgan had, was Rossi’s way of coping with the losses.

Spencer accepted the proffered mug with a grateful nod and Dave poured a second before reaching into his bag and pulling out a cigar and a silver lighter. The pair moved to the small balcony attached to the room in companionable silence, Dave lighting his cigar and Spencer quietly sipping at his scotch. The liquid stung the back of his throat before spreading into a molten feeling of relaxation slowly creeping across his chest. Inhaling deeply Spencer could smell thee tobacco but it didn’t mask the fresh, clean scent pouring off the water they were looking out over. It wasn’t a combination that stirred any memories in Spencer and he was grateful for that, knowing that the next time he breathed these scents he could return to this moment of serenity between himself and his friend.

Further down the beach lights and music pulsed across the sand, and wobbly patrons traipsed across the sidewalks and sand dunes but on their little patch of beach hardly any shadows flittered over the rippled sand. The tide was coming further in, destroying the evidence of the day’s happy beach-goers. A small dark shape registered in Spencer’s periphery and he turned to watch a girl make her way slowly to the edge of the waves before stopping and standing unnaturally still as the wind moved the towel she held around her shoulders out behind her like a cape. Spencer and Rossi both watched her for a little while longer but as he drained the last sip of whiskey from the white ceramic in his hand Reid noticed she really hadn’t moved an inch since she had stopped earlier. The tide was creeping up towards her ankles as he and Dave moved back inside.

“Thanks, Rossi,” Spencer walked to thee door, hands back in his pockets, but this time groping for his own room key.

“Goodnight Spencer,” Rossi clapped his hands of Reid’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly before the two finally parted for the evening.

[cassburger215]

'Til Death - Part 1

Dean x Reader

Summary: When the reader finds herself in need of outside help, she calls the Winchester brothers to cash in an old favor. A call that changes everything.

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: Okay, this is my first fanfic so bear with me! I’d love to hear any feedback! :)  And again, if you’d like to be tagged for story updates send me an ask!

(Side note: OMG that episode last night!!! #AdvancedThanatology #whatfiller)

“Fuck,” you hissed out, the alcohol stinging like a mother when it hit the gaping hole in your leg. Goddamn black-eyed bitch.

Reaching in the duffle laying open on the passenger seat, you grabbed a semi clean rag and begin to wipe away the excess blood to give you a clearer view.  The laceration wasn’t too deep but it definitely needed stitches, so you got to work. 

You were still outside the old house where you had just finished exorcising a demon. You managed to trap her into the house, but it wasn’t without a fight. The bitch had been killing married men after having sex with them. Not that you condoned cheating but it was safe to say murder wasn’t the answer. 

You grimaced as your skin pulled taut, remembering how she swiped at you with a kitchen knife. At least it wasn’t a rusty piece of shit ‘cause you could do without the infection.

Unfortunately by the time it was nothing but black smoke, the woman the demon had possessed was too far gone.  Her last gasping, pain filled breaths haunted you as you sewed up your thigh.

Her body was still laying in the basement waiting to be buried.

Just the thought left you exhausted, but it was the least the woman - Diana - deserved. You had come to learn she had been missing for six months, leaving a worried husband and a two-year-old daughter behind. So the moment your patch job was done, you exited your vehicle with a shovel in tow.

An hour later the sun was setting, calling the end of a long-ass day. You were sweaty, caked in freshly turned dirt and injured. All you could think about now was getting your butt back to the motel for a thirty minute shower and a cold beer.

The motel, Sleepy Hills Inn, was not the greatest find in the world. Case in point - the only other cars in the lot when you arrived yesterday were maintenance vans and the front desk manager’s truck. However it was only temporary, until you moved on to the next town. The next case.

You hobbled out of your jeep, taking the duffle with you and headed to room 116. Ten feet away, you froze. Your door was slightly ajar but still too dark to see inside. Dropping the bag, you took the gun out from the back of your pants and aimed straight ahead.

Okay, Y/N. Take a breath. 3, 2, 1…

The door hinges creaked loudly as the wood swayed inward. Nothing immediately jumped on you so you fumbled with the wall on your right until your fingers hit the light switch.

“What the hell?”

Everything you’d left in the room was tossed. It looked like a hurricane went through it. Books lay haphazardly on the ground by the table, your clothes strewn around the room, bed sheets ripped away. You were dumbfounded.

Quickly checking the rest of the room, you found you were indeed alone. Glancing here to there, you stopped when you spotted the hunting knife embedded into the wall. It was holding up a picture. You got closer and made it out to be a picture of a young girl with deep brown hair and eyes the brightest shade of blue you’d ever seen.  It was your sister.

Sara.

Air left your lungs in one fell swoop. You yanked the knife out of the wall, taking the photograph in your hands. It was old, the edges bent this way and that. An elementary school photo. She was smiling proudly for the camera, wearing her favorite Guns N Roses shirt which had actually been a hand-me-down of yours. 

It’d been close to a decade since you had seen her. The obvious threat scared you more than anything had in years. What did this mean? Who was threatening you?

You brought your left hand up to swipe at a stray hair tickling your cheek, but stopped short when you saw the black ink smudges on your fingertips. Flipping the photo over, your heart beat even faster. Newly written was a note.

You take my family, I’ll take yours.

Your mind raced with the possibilities of who - or what - could have left this behind for you to find. As far as people go, you don’t interact with anyone non-case related. Save for the occasional one night stand. Certainly nothing to warrant such a threat.

And as for monsters, it’d frankly been kind of dry. The demon you had exorcised today was your only action this month. The month before included a wraith, a demon and two ghosts.

You began to panic when you came up blank.

“Come on Y/N. Family… family…”

You paced the small motel room, no longer able to remain still. In the process you almost fell face first when you tripped over an abandoned shoe. You’re reminded of the hurricane of a room then. Staying here wasn’t safe.

With that in mind, you gathered your things quickly and packed the jeep.

Driving down the empty road, usually so relaxing, had you unsettled. You began to think back even farther, grasping for anything that stuck out to you. The information you had was just so vague. Before you started to tear up, you pulled out your phone and began calling some hunter connections. People you’ve worked with in the past year.

“Sierra, hey it’s Y/N. It’s been awhile.”

“Hey sugar! What can I do you for?”

“Have you had anything strange happen lately? I mean, besides the normal strange.”

Sierra hummed on the other end before replying. “Nothing stands out. Why?”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Let me know if something comes up, yeah?”

Five similar conversations later, you didn’t know what to do. Where to go. You still stunk to high heaven and now your leg had been throbbing for the past hour. Plus it had been at least 12 hours since you last ate.

A bleary look at the clock told you it’s way past your bedtime. Sighing, you got off at the next exit and stopped at the first motel you saw.

The hot water of the shower scalded your skin but your were far from caring. You scrubbed all the dirt off of your body, mindful of your injury. You felt much better afterward and dressed for bed. The cookies you got from the vending machine were stale, the tap water tasted metallic and your comforter had an obvious stain on it, but you were so exhausted you overlooked it and climbed in - ready to get a few hours of sleep before continuing on in the morning.

The other end of the call continued to ring, frustrating you. You tried once more as you waited for the jeep’s tank to fill up.

“Come on David, answer the damn phone,” you growled out. When it continued with no answer, you left a simple ‘call me’ message and snapped the phone shut.

The gas shuddered to a stop with a thump and you quickly went inside the Gas-N-Sip to pay, grabbing a soda and a pre-made sandwich as you did.

The cashier gave you an odd look when you came to the counter. No doubt she saw the busted lip and bruised cheekbone. The life of a hunter.

You simply gave her a smile and a line about a rough roller derby practice and continued on your way. 

Getting a sinking feeling when David continued to not answer you back all morning, you headed for his house. Unlike you, and many others, David had a permanent residence in Indiana. It wasn’t much. A small cabin out in the middle of nowhere. You yourself only knew about it because of a close call with a werewolf in that area about three years ago. David brought you to the cabin and patched you up.

It took all day to make the drive, but you finally were in view of the front lawn a quarter past eight. There weren’t any lights visible from the front as you got out of the jeep. You tucked your gun in the back of your jeans and made your way to the front door, a bad feeling in your gut.

“David?”

The front door was unlocked. You immediately took your gun out. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. With a quick swallow, you pushed the door open and entered.

Faint moonlight broke in through the windows making it significantly easier to see where you were stepping.

The front room was a hurricane, just like at your motel. Papers were strewn everywhere and furniture upturned.

“D-David?” You called out again. No answer.

You turned the corner of the crooked couch leading toward the small kitchen but stopped in your tracks at the sight of a body on the floor.

“No,” you whispered. Frantically searching for the light switch, you stumbled around the form for the kitchen doorway. The lights flicked on happily, burning its bright fluorescent bulbs. You immediately gagged at the view.

David laid unnaturally on the living room carpet, his eyes wide open in a fixed stare. His skin was ghastly pale. And his throat was practically ripped out. He had to have been dead at least a day. Taking a closer look, it became obvious what had done this: Vampire.

You and David had decimated a vampire nest last year up in Wisconsin. Seven of them were killed by the two of you. It was actually a pretty smooth hunt. But what if you had missed one?

The pieces were beginning to come together now.

You pulled Sara’s picture out of your back pocket, caressing the paper. If anything happened to her because of what you did…

You had to find her. But you couldn’t possibly do it alone. Resources were scarce for you and your recent injury hardly left you equipped to take on a creature as stealth as a vamp.

But you knew a pair of hunters that had all kinds of resources.

The phone shook in your hand as you dialed the number, unsure it was even still good.

“Yeah?”

You blew out an anxious breath. “Sam Winchester?”

“You got ‘em.”

“I’m cashing in that favor you owe me.”

Part 2

[privateplates4u]

Lexus LC 500: 8th Place – 2017 Motor Trend’s Best Driver’s Car

Lexus has a stated mission to inject more excitement into its lineup, and adding a second rear-drive, V-8 coupe to the mix is part of the plan. The big LC 500 is a grand tourer through and through, but don’t let its grandness and opulence fool you. There’s a lot of serious hardware under the hood. Power comes from the F performance brand’s 5.0-liter V-8 with 471 horsepower and 398 lb-ft on tap. It’s delivered to the rear tires by an all-new 10-speed automatic transmission and optional limited-slip differential. Adjustable dampers and optional rear steering work the handling angle while big calipers clamp down on steel disc brakes. They’ve got their work cut out for them stopping 4,364 pounds worth of car. It’s Best Driver’s Car week! Keep it on MotorTrend.com this week as we count down the finishing order of our contenders this year and share bonus content you’ll only find right here. Work they do, pulling the LC 500 to a stop from 60 mph in 105 feet. Getting to 60 mph in the first place takes 4.7 seconds, and covering a quarter mile requires 13 seconds flat at 109.8 mph. On the skidpad, the suspension and tires do their thing to a tune of 0.93 average g, with a figure-eight lap needing 24.6 seconds at 0.79 average g. We Say “Despite the isolation, it’s surprisingly fast and very difficult to upset with Trac/VSC off (when on, it’s maddening). It does have the most understeer of any of the vehicles on 198, but like a good BMW, at least the understeer is clear and distinct. Lexus hasn’t tried to mask it with weird EPS or rear steer inputs.” – Ed Loh “Most shocking. I was expecting nothing. In fact, I argued against even bringing the LC 500 along because it’s just so big and heavy. I was wrong. Folks, we have an athlete on our hands. It’s a bit heavy, sure, but the fundamentals are all there. Gorgeous sounds from the V-8, a gearbox that loves shifting, reflexes that hide the size, and fairly stout brakes. Great body control, too. Not a car you’d think you can push, but— surprise!—you totally can. Amazing job, Lexus.” – Jonny Lieberman Read about other 2017 Best Driver’s Car contenders: Mercedes-AMG GT R Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport Aston Martin DB11 Nissan GT-R NISMO Mazda MX-5 Miata RF McLaren 570GT “How can this car have 10 gears and never ever be in the right one? There were at least a dozen rejected requests for a downshift, so I had to learn to slow the car on the brakes before requesting a downshift. On the way up it was fourth gear almost all the time, which doesn’t give it any snap. The soundtrack is good, but the response is not there. I’m not a fan of the rear-steer. There were several corners where I didn’t know where the steering was going to point me. The brakes were fine, except not a lot of feel through the pedal, similarly not a lot of feel through the steering with a tendency for understeer that just doesn’t say sports car but grand tourer.” – Chris Walton “The exhaust notes on the LC are intoxicating and so unexpected coming out of a Lexus that you check the rear mirror to make sure that a race car is not coming up behind you. The engine sound builds; you hear it ratchet up with each gearshift with an almost unnatural precision. But the highlight is the amazing downshift burbles. I am a sucker for a downshift burble. It makes me go weak in the knees. It doesn’t carry the speed as well, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel and trying to muscle it while also braking more than I should entering the corners, which contributed to a disjointed drive—ironic coming from Lexus, the king of the smooth ride.” – Alisa Priddle “Part of the driving experience is tailoring all the vehicle settings to your liking. Whoever designed the infotainment system should be stripped naked, covered in honey, and tied to the top of an anthill. Everything is buried under layers of menus, and the only way to access it is by using a hilariously inaccurate touchpad. It took me five minutes to figure out the seat coolers on the first day, and it stayed on throughout the week of testing because it was too much of an effort to turn it back off. Good luck changing channels on the satellite radio.” – Derek Powell Randy Says “Mostly I was waiting on understeer. Then by the time I could finally get to some power it was much nicer. I like the steering, I thought it was really accurate, reasonably quick, and I thought it was a fun car on track except for that entry understeer. It was like this one characteristic that just doesn’t fit right. Go into the corner, and it was just, ‘Ah! I want to go that way.’ Then, on power, it’s beautiful, and it was a really fun car to drift on my cooldown. Even though it doesn’t want to turn under hot-lap driving, it’s really easy to drift it if you’re not. “It was beautiful, smooth car accelerating, and you hear that engine note and go ‘Wow, where is that coming from?’ I look around to see who’s coming by, and I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s me.’ I just love that. “Even in Sport+ mode, it’s still a little soft on the racetrack. Damping is pretty soft. I actually think the spring bars are in a really good place, and I kept pushing Lexus on that, too. I consulted on that car three and a half times, and every time I told them it’s too soft, too soft, too soft. “The brakes are very reactive—you get a lot. So they don’t need an aggressive application. Don’t be stabby. I did once, and it just wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t making the brake gs that I knew it was capable of. So from then on I would just, you know, apply the pedal gently, and then it stopped great. Stopped really well for a street tire.” EDITOR’S NOTE: Randy Pobst was an on-call dynamics consultant during the development of the LC 500. 2018 Lexus LC 500 POWERTRAIN/CHASSIS DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD ENGINE TYPE 90-deg V-8, alum block/heads VALVETRAIN On-demand Atkinson-/Otto-cycle DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DISPLACEMENT 303.2 cu in/4,969 cc COMPRESSION RATIO 12.3:1 POWER (SAE NET) 471 hp @ 7,100 rpm TORQUE (SAE NET) 398 lb-ft @ 4,800 rpm REDLINE 7,000 rpm WEIGHT TO POWER 9.3 lb/hp TRANSMISSION 10-speed automatic AXLE/FINAL-DRIVE RATIO 2.94:1/1.76:1 SUSPENSION, FRONT; REAR Multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar; multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar STEERING RATIO 9.8-13.6:1 TURNS LOCK-TO-LOCK 2.4 BRAKES, F; R 15.7-in vented 2-pc disc; 14.1-in vented disc, ABS WHEELS, F;R 8.5 x 21-in; 9.5 x 21-in, forged aluminum TIRES, F;R 245/40R21 96Y; 275/35R21 99Y Michelin Pilot Super Sport ZP (Tread 300) DIMENSIONS WHEELBASE 113.0 in TRACK, F/R 64.2/64.4 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 187.4 x 75.6 x 53.0 in TURNING CIRCLE 34.8 ft CURB WEIGHT 4,364 lb WEIGHT DIST, F/R 53/47% SEATING CAPACITY 4 HEADROOM, F/R 36.8/32.2 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.0/32.5 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 56.5/48.9 in CARGO VOLUME 5.4 cu ft TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 1.8 sec 0-40 2.7 0-50 3.6 0-60 4.7 0-70 5.9 0-80 7.3 0-90 8.9 0-100 10.7 0-100-0 14.7 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 2.2 QUARTER MILE 13.0 sec @ 109.8 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 105 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.93 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 24.6 sec @ 0.79 g (avg) 2.2-MI ROAD COURSE LAP 1:43.40 sec TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,200 rpm CONSUMER INFO BASE PRICE $92,995 PRICE AS TESTED $104,465 STABILITY/TRACTION CONTROL Yes/Yes AIRBAGS 8: Dual front, front side, f/r curtain, front knee BASIC WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles POWERTRAIN WARRANTY 6 yrs/70,000 miles ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE 4 yrs/Unlimited miles FUEL CAPACITY 21.7 gal EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON 16/26/19 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 211/130 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 1.00 lb/mile RECOMMENDED FUEL Unleaded premium The post Lexus LC 500: 8th Place – 2017 Motor Trend’s Best Driver’s Car appeared first on Motor Trend.

http://www.motortrend.com/news/lexus-lc-500-8th-place-2017-best-drivers-car/

[polarisport]

Big Bare Bear on gaming: ME:A

Mass Effect: Andromeda this time it’s… I dunno something.

First thing that went through my head when I read there was going to be a sequel to the final installment of the Mass Effect series was ‘well I hope it fixes everything that the last one broke’. I’m not going to get into Mass effect 3’s ending or the furore that followed its release. You know why? Because, it has been done to death, dissected, reanimated, killed and then dissected again. Personally as a writer I was disappointed in the story, more because they promised us that our choices would matter, but they didn’t their endings invalidated everything we had done. Also because, well it didn’t make much sense as a story.

Anyhow, I knew I would have to play MEA because I am Bioware’s bitch. I love RPG’s and these guys do pretty darn good ones. Ok, they ain’t all great but you can usually count on them for a solid game. Which, when you think on how much their games cost to buy: between around £45-£60 / $50-£70 for standard depending on where you buy, it may be possible to get it cheaper I ain’t done the market research to be sure. Slightly off point now, my point was when I shell out that kind of cash I want value for my fucking money!

Multiplayer

My first experiences with MEA were on the multiplayer section. I have friends who love shooters and love to team up. So for the first two weeks I played multiplayer only, I haven’t actually finished the storyline single player mode yet, but I have several max level multiplayer toons. The multiplayer is quite similar to Mass Effect 3’s, which was a damn fun game. Quick paced, small maps which means you need some fast reflexes. A wide variety of classes to suit everyone’s tastes. My particular favourites are the Asari Adept and the Krogan… anything (melee and Krogans is just fun). There hasn’t been much change powers wise, a few new classes but nothing groundbreaking, except for...jump-jets.

The jump-jets are just plain fun, you ping around like a flea and can hover while aiming to snipe as you gently fall. Not only that, pressing melee while jumping causes you to plunge downwards like some Marvel superhero and land with an AOE splash that just looks and feels awesome. This is very very different to Mass Effect 3 where you were nailed to the god damned floor. It is so freeing and adds a new layer to what would be a fairly bland remake without it.

The guns are fairly...ok I guess, nothing mold breaking or new really. There is one other new thing and that is dash, or dodge. Pressing it makes your character charge forward, or sideways. It is wonderful for sliding into cover or jumping quickly out of trouble. Alternatively there is something fulfilling about dashing forward as a krogan and headbutting your enemy into oblivion. It again adds something new and good to an established and solid platform. (I actually didn’t learn how to use it until I started playing the single player game. There I was forced to by boss fights which are not too tough...once you learn to fucking get out of the way.)

Unfortunately there is one word that casts a shadow over multiplayer and that is ‘microtransactions’. In ME3 multiplayer you leveled up classes, say engineer you got your human to 20 and then when you opened that rare salarian engineer card you could automatically get your new character all the way to max and try him out. Now not only do you need to find the card (very frustrating as many boxes just contain guns or random boosts or augments), you need to take the character from 1-20 and you need to find that same card 10 FUCKING TIMES!. That is what you need to do to get your favourite class to max level. I have a couple of level 20’s that I love playing but they will never be complete until I grind my way through thousands of matches...or open my wallet (over my dead fucking body Bioware, you already got my money) and then get really fucking lucky.

Single-player Story Mode

So now to the story and RPG part of the game, I will try to keep this review spoiler free as I think the fun in these games is experiencing the story yourself. However I can talk about the stuff you all know. This story is both 600 years after ME3 and at the same time between ME2 and ME3. The basic premise is that before ME3 the races of the Milky Way discovered a cluster of habitable worlds in the Andromeda galaxy. Obviously they couldn’t just sit there knowing there was all these worlds going to waste so they built a new version of the Citadel, called the Nexus and shoved it off. The Nexus was followed by 4 Arks (a human one, asari one, turian one and salarian one with other races arks to follow the quarians are mentioned as coming next and bringing other races with them). The Krogans do go along on the Nexus as security forces so never fear those of you who love those big chunky quad swinging badasses.

However, this change has a big impact, in that the biodiversity of the universe of MEA is greatly reduced. A list of aliens that are currently missing in my playthrough :batarians, drell, volus, elchor, vorcha, geth, quarians, hanar, reapers and I suppose technically the protheans as there was one. In their place are the Angara and Kett… yes despite this part of the universe being rich in ‘golden worlds’, only two alien species exist. The Kett who are the mysterious antagonist and the angaran who are the down trodden good guys (and who the game really really wants you to like and constantly compares to the krogan, because they know we all love krogan. This lack of diversity makes Andromeda feel so much smaller and less epic than the original galaxy. The little bits of universe building, that were so prevalent throughout MEs 1-3 are greatly reduced, no Elchor Shakespeare, no Volus biotic gods… it makes the game less immersive and for an RPG immersion is a vital component of greatness. *honest sad tones* I miss the Elchor and their unique speech patterns.

(mild spoiler warning from here on, though I will not be going into heavy detail)

You star as the ‘pathfinder’ and your job is to find viable worlds. Arriving on the human ark which is about a year late and yet the only ark that made it so far. The ark crash into this weird interstellar web thing called ‘the Scourge’ (some writer really pulled a muscle thinking up that great and unique name).

The human ark arrives after a 600 year journey (blissfully sleeping through the abomination of ME3’s ending), to find the Nexus in disarray, because none of the others arks arrived and they had no pathfinders. Your father is actually the pathfinder, but he dies early on and gives the role to you, someone who was just a soldier and not trained as a pathfinder.

I want to take a second to point out how stupid this is. When you arrive on the Nexus you find that they have utterly failed to establish any colonies and a huge part of this is blamed on the fact the arks didn’t turn up and they therefore had no pathfinders. 1) if pathfinders were so vital why didn’t they have a couple on the Nexus, 2) you are not trained as a pathfinder so really you should fail too. and 3) after nobody showed up for years why didn’t they train someone up as one if they are that bloody essential? You inherited your position when your daddy died. I hate chosen one storylines, and this has heavy overtones of being fated to save the galaxy crap.

Anyway it is what it is, a very poorly thought out mechanic to make the galaxy your responsibility. In honesty the story doesn’t feel that clunky and it moves along ok. However, for me those early stages felt kinda jarring because the needs of the game heavily stamp the narrative into an unnatural shape. You get your team really quickly in fact by the time you finish the first world you have all but one and you get him on the second world. None of that pesky slow building and getting to know them through gameplay while you explore alien worlds, just here they are deal with it.

You find that the scourge has made all those golden worlds pretty much uninhabitable. However, fortunately each world also has some ancient terraforming machine left there so all you have to do is fight your way in, switch it on and then plant the flag. There is some story that goes alongside this, but essentially each planet has that similar theme.

The story with the Angarans is they are the native species, the Kett turned up one day as aliens and conquered them, the Angaran resistance fights back. There isn’t a lot of detail I can share without getting into heavier spoiler territory.

Negatives of the narrative aside, I actually am very much enjoying the single player game. The quests move at a reasonable pace, it is up to you if you do all the side quests or just barrel through the main questline. I like to complete everything on each world before moving on, so I have only actually completed the first 3 worlds.

Your team is not too bad. You get one of everything pretty much. Drack the krogan is my favourite (big surprise huh?) He has the best lines. While on the planets you have a pretty sweet vehicle that can be ungraded. I enjoy driving it, unlike pretty much all vehicles in the Mass Effect universe this thing can actually move and steer. It also has two modes, high speed mode for flat and high traction to get up hills. With thrusters and jump jets it is a fun ride and makes getting from mission to mission a joy and not a chore.

Overall I would have to say this is a solid enjoyable game, it was well worth the cost. It is not the near perfect game that ME2 was. I haven’t got to the ending yet to find out if they fucked it up as badly as they did ME3, I suspect not. They are playing it safe with this game, all the top species and a very safe basic functional story.

Last word I know some of you will want to know about the gay romance options. Honestly I don’t play these games for the love story, because as a writer of erotica I know where to go for a good love story. However, from  what I have seen...meh they could have done way better and way worse. If you are looking for a good romance story just ask and I’ll send some recommendations*.

Seriously last word, I have to mention the glitches. They are many and varied there has been some patches that remove the more insane ones...sadly the removed the one that allowed up to seven Dracks on your ship. They do kind ruin the immersion, but honestly they are not too bad now and the story, as already stated, kinda hinders the immersion anyway so why not enjoy a chuckle or too at Bioware’s expense.

Super seriously last word...bye.

-Sisco

*(like “big bulky bare bear’s bollock bangers: Vol 2 KroQuad”)

[robertkstone]

Lexus LC 500: 8th Place – 2017 Motor Trend’s Best Driver’s Car

Lexus has a stated mission to inject more excitement into its lineup, and adding a second rear-drive, V-8 coupe to the mix is part of the plan. The big LC 500 is a grand tourer through and through, but don’t let its grandness and opulence fool you. There’s a lot of serious hardware under the hood.

Power comes from the F performance brand’s 5.0-liter V-8 with 471 horsepower and 398 lb-ft on tap. It’s delivered to the rear tires by an all-new 10-speed automatic transmission and optional limited-slip differential. Adjustable dampers and optional rear steering work the handling angle while big calipers clamp down on steel disc brakes. They’ve got their work cut out for them stopping 4,364 pounds worth of car.

It’s Best Driver’s Car week! Keep it on MotorTrend.com this week as we count down the finishing order of our contenders this year and share bonus content you’ll only find right here.

Work they do, pulling the LC 500 to a stop from 60 mph in 105 feet. Getting to 60 mph in the first place takes 4.7 seconds, and covering a quarter mile requires 13 seconds flat at 109.8 mph. On the skidpad, the suspension and tires do their thing to a tune of 0.93 average g, with a figure-eight lap needing 24.6 seconds at 0.79 average g.

We Say

“Despite the isolation, it’s surprisingly fast and very difficult to upset with Trac/VSC off (when on, it’s maddening). It does have the most understeer of any of the vehicles on 198, but like a good BMW, at least the understeer is clear and distinct. Lexus hasn’t tried to mask it with weird EPS or rear steer inputs.” – Ed Loh

“Most shocking. I was expecting nothing. In fact, I argued against even bringing the LC 500 along because it’s just so big and heavy. I was wrong. Folks, we have an athlete on our hands. It’s a bit heavy, sure, but the fundamentals are all there. Gorgeous sounds from the V-8, a gearbox that loves shifting, reflexes that hide the size, and fairly stout brakes. Great body control, too. Not a car you’d think you can push, but— surprise!—you totally can. Amazing job, Lexus.” – Jonny Lieberman

Read about other 2017 Best Driver’s Car contenders:

Mercedes-AMG GT R

Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio

Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport

Aston Martin DB11

Nissan GT-R NISMO

Mazda MX-5 Miata RF

McLaren 570GT

“How can this car have 10 gears and never ever be in the right one? There were at least a dozen rejected requests for a downshift, so I had to learn to slow the car on the brakes before requesting a downshift. On the way up it was fourth gear almost all the time, which doesn’t give it any snap. The soundtrack is good, but the response is not there. I’m not a fan of the rear-steer. There were several corners where I didn’t know where the steering was going to point me. The brakes were fine, except not a lot of feel through the pedal, similarly not a lot of feel through the steering with a tendency for understeer that just doesn’t say sports car but grand tourer.” – Chris Walton

“The exhaust notes on the LC are intoxicating and so unexpected coming out of a Lexus that you check the rear mirror to make sure that a race car is not coming up behind you. The engine sound builds; you hear it ratchet up with each gearshift with an almost unnatural precision. But the highlight is the amazing downshift burbles. I am a sucker for a downshift burble. It makes me go weak in the knees.

It doesn’t carry the speed as well, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel and trying to muscle it while also braking more than I should entering the corners, which contributed to a disjointed drive—ironic coming from Lexus, the king of the smooth ride.” – Alisa Priddle

“Part of the driving experience is tailoring all the vehicle settings to your liking. Whoever designed the infotainment system should be stripped naked, covered in honey, and tied to the top of an anthill. Everything is buried under layers of menus, and the only way to access it is by using a hilariously inaccurate touchpad. It took me five minutes to figure out the seat coolers on the first day, and it stayed on throughout the week of testing because it was too much of an effort to turn it back off. Good luck changing channels on the satellite radio.” – Derek Powell

Randy Says

“Mostly I was waiting on understeer. Then by the time I could finally get to some power it was much nicer. I like the steering, I thought it was really accurate, reasonably quick, and I thought it was a fun car on track except for that entry understeer. It was like this one characteristic that just doesn’t fit right. Go into the corner, and it was just, ‘Ah! I want to go that way.’ Then, on power, it’s beautiful, and it was a really fun car to drift on my cooldown. Even though it doesn’t want to turn under hot-lap driving, it’s really easy to drift it if you’re not.

“It was beautiful, smooth car accelerating, and you hear that engine note and go ‘Wow, where is that coming from?’ I look around to see who’s coming by, and I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s me.’ I just love that.

“Even in Sport+ mode, it’s still a little soft on the racetrack. Damping is pretty soft. I actually think the spring bars are in a really good place, and I kept pushing Lexus on that, too. I consulted on that car three and a half times, and every time I told them it’s too soft, too soft, too soft.

“The brakes are very reactive—you get a lot. So they don’t need an aggressive application. Don’t be stabby. I did once, and it just wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t making the brake gs that I knew it was capable of. So from then on I would just, you know, apply the pedal gently, and then it stopped great. Stopped really well for a street tire.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Randy Pobst was an on-call dynamics consultant during the development of the LC 500.

2018 Lexus LC 500 POWERTRAIN/CHASSIS DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD ENGINE TYPE 90-deg V-8, alum block/heads VALVETRAIN On-demand Atkinson-/Otto-cycle DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DISPLACEMENT 303.2 cu in/4,969 cc COMPRESSION RATIO 12.3:1 POWER (SAE NET) 471 hp @ 7,100 rpm TORQUE (SAE NET) 398 lb-ft @ 4,800 rpm REDLINE 7,000 rpm WEIGHT TO POWER 9.3 lb/hp TRANSMISSION 10-speed automatic AXLE/FINAL-DRIVE RATIO 2.94:1/1.76:1 SUSPENSION, FRONT; REAR Multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar; multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar STEERING RATIO 9.8-13.6:1 TURNS LOCK-TO-LOCK 2.4 BRAKES, F; R 15.7-in vented 2-pc disc; 14.1-in vented disc, ABS WHEELS, F;R 8.5 x 21-in; 9.5 x 21-in, forged aluminum TIRES, F;R 245/40R21 96Y; 275/35R21 99Y Michelin Pilot Super Sport ZP (Tread 300) DIMENSIONS WHEELBASE 113.0 in TRACK, F/R 64.2/64.4 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 187.4 x 75.6 x 53.0 in TURNING CIRCLE 34.8 ft CURB WEIGHT 4,364 lb WEIGHT DIST, F/R 53/47% SEATING CAPACITY 4 HEADROOM, F/R 36.8/32.2 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.0/32.5 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 56.5/48.9 in CARGO VOLUME 5.4 cu ft TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 1.8 sec 0-40 2.7 0-50 3.6 0-60 4.7 0-70 5.9 0-80 7.3 0-90 8.9 0-100 10.7 0-100-0 14.7 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 2.2 QUARTER MILE 13.0 sec @ 109.8 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 105 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.93 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 24.6 sec @ 0.79 g (avg) 2.2-MI ROAD COURSE LAP 1:43.40 sec TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,200 rpm CONSUMER INFO BASE PRICE $92,995 PRICE AS TESTED $104,465 STABILITY/TRACTION CONTROL Yes/Yes AIRBAGS 8: Dual front, front side, f/r curtain, front knee BASIC WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles POWERTRAIN WARRANTY 6 yrs/70,000 miles ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE 4 yrs/Unlimited miles FUEL CAPACITY 21.7 gal EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON 16/26/19 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 211/130 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 1.00 lb/mile RECOMMENDED FUEL Unleaded premium

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