#volvo hood mirrors

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

You know a lot about cars so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask: How hard would it be for me to make up brand new cars and 3D model them? The stuff shown here looks fun, and I want to give it a go sometime. (p.s as compensation for submitting an ask not focused on a thing about a car: the interiors of the Italdesign Orca and Mazda MX-81 Aria are silly looking things that everybody should get to see.) (p.p.s i don't understand cars or 3D modeling but i believe it'll all work out fine)

If you want encouragement: every single 3D car shape you've ever seen, from videogames to renders to cars on the street, was either drawn with 3D modelling or with something even harder - and none of those people have a significant genetic leg up on you. You're too short to play basketball, you're too fragile to boxe, you're too heavy for marathons, but you're not too anything for 3D modelling. The only thing it takes is effort.

If you want a warning: effort it does take. 3D modelling is deceptively complex - you think you can model a radio no problem and an hour later your work amounts to a volume knob and you realize you're gonna be here a while. I've studied it for a semester and would be pretty lost if I had to draw curves as complex as a car's, although had I had your interest I would've likely dug deeper on some specific aspects on my own (and actually retained all the lessons on complex curves :/) But yeah, holy hell are cars complex. Nowadays especially, but in general - the lights, the vents, the seals, the panel gaps, all things that are incredibly minute yet essential details that can make or break a design, even at the lowest detail (because of course modelling difficulty varies wildly with the detail level you're targeting). Modelling a car from scratch, I'll be astounded if it takes you less than a year. But by the end of that, any car you model will no longer be from scratch, as you'll already have built the knowledge base!

If you want advice: take your time to learn the tools before you try and tackle any big project. For one because naming your first 3D model "car" and messing around until you have a car is like taking your new bicycle to the bottom of an alpine pass and messing around until you're at its top: you'll be there for as long as it takes you to give up, accomplish nothing and leave feeling useless. For two because starting a project without all the knowledge base it needs will just mean its quality will suffer from the start to the points of the project where you pick that knowledge up. For three because starting a project knowing what to do and how to do it speeds up the process massively and provides a massive boost in confidence and motivation because you know what is ahead and how to tackle it - there's nothing more demoralizing than closing up the day with no idea of how to progress from there. For four, because you need to make sure you like the tools. Modelling a car in abstract is "making a car" or "expressing your vision" or whatever poetic way you put it, but in practice it's using a piece of software for a troubling number of hours. If using that software is a chore to you you're never going to push through the learning curve involved in modelling a car, and that's for the best as modelling a car would be a miserable time.

If you want guidance: here's a Volvo wagon. Their boxiness is nigh on legendary, in the car community the "brick" nickname is nigh on a synonym for Volvo. And this is the 960, the boxiest Volvo that ever boxed.

Look at all the curves. The rear windshield curves forwards and the side windows curve inwards, making the angle between them curve diagonally (how pronounced are those curves? Are they constant?), the entire side of the car has a gentle curve to it, and the fenders flare outwards with a smooth blend between their slope and the body's (what do you suppose the radius of that blend is?) - to say nothing of the hood, the rims, and my God, that mirror is a positive sculpture! And also, the end of the rear door is tilted forward - why do you suppose that is? Well, it's clearer in the much older 240...

...you can clearly see the rear door's window frame is following the lower, downward-sloping roofline of a sedan, indicating the sedan's doors are being reused for the wagon. But now that you looked at the Volvo before, you can see the shape is more bare, more simple -free of the indentation that circled the 960's body, for instance- but much more soft and rounded, with the taillights curving inwards (how much?), the rear windshield having rounded corners (and perchance a rounded top to match a curved roof?), hell, the curve of the rear angle kicks outwards at the bottom to meet an inwards slope that goes from headlight to taillight!

This is how you have to come to see cars - by which I don't just mean noticing these details, but this analytical look being how your eye approaches a car shape. Because you can't learn to write without the ability and interest to read, if you catch my drift.

Once you've got a grasp of the tools involved, a nice idea could be to get a 3D model of a car (I recommend starting with a very boxy one and potentially working your way up), deleting a part (like a fender, or a door) and trying to recreate it yourself by eye - see what challenges you encounter, what you struggle with creating, how the result looks compared to the original, and such.

Also, a thing I would advise is to look into cutaways and diagrams and such, just like you learn anatomy when drawing humans because if you don't you'll end up with something that looks awkward and unrealistic and you will not know why. For example, these two designs seem starkly different, don't they?

And yet, if you overlap them...

...the driver seat is at exactly the same place. Why? Because that's just as far forward as you can seat a person before the crumple zone either is insufficient to absorb the force of a high speed impact or begins including their legs. This is just one of plenty aspects but I've gone on long enough already.

If you want a challenge: set a reminder for next year to come back here and show me your progress. Even if it's not anything close to a car yet, if -as you should- you set some intermediate goals that stimulate and excite you, you can still be back in this askbox with something to be proud of and I'll go wooo!!! I remember you!!! It's so cool you stuck to it and have now made this thing!!! That's great! and you'll feel SO good about yourself. Deal?

Oh about the concepts, The MX-81's steering wheel... sidewall? always made me uneasy, it looks like it's coming off (and like some airport surface that has been touched by too much gross stuff) but I do dig the CRT right in front of you! The one that's going in my car is black and white and a lot smaller than that, so a tinge of envy is there.

Also, if you like the Orca's steering wheel, you may well enjoy the '88 Grand Prix and Citroën C4/C4 Picasso's! Ride, Pontiac Ride! Or transform and dance, that's cool too!

[cheshire-shuntaro]

For the Drug Cartel AU, a continuation of this here. Chishiya, realizing that everything that the cartel built in Mar de Plata is crumbling right before his eyes goes to the one person who might know how to help. @thetiredassistant

Silence, then, ringing in his ears. Heartbeat thudding against his thumbs tightly wrapped around the leather texture of the steering wheel. It took him a second to realize that he was having a panic attack. He was sixteen again, dashing through the narrow, neon-illuminated back alleys of Tokyo with 10 kilos of cocaine stuffed in his backpack. Soma right beside him, with a similar wild look to his eyes and a similar burden to carry, strapped to his back. Shouts of their pursuers chasing ferociously not unlike rabid dogs, their voices bouncing off of the concrete walls. Heart begging to jump out of his chest, and in his ears — ringing. Just a-

Suddenly — loud, prolonged honk. Chishiya's eyes snapped open, the ringing ceased, pulse slowly dropping. The crimson red light turned bleak green some time ago and the person behind Shuntaro decided they were done waiting. Chishiya indicated turning left and pushed the gas pedal, glancing in the rear view mirror. White Volvo sedan. Fuck. Already? Has he not received their message? But they might not be the ones who left it. How many parties are tangled up in this mess? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Enough. The engine of his Corvette growled and screamed when he revved up and switched to 5th gear. 90. 120. 146. As soon as the driver of the Volvo caught on what was happening it turned out, that whatever was under the hood of this inconspicuously looking sedan had enough power to keep tailing Chishiya. The downtown of Mar de Plata flashed in the windows as if it was the last memory of a man taking his final breath, and perhaps it was. Shuntaro swooshed past cars waiting at the stop sign with a cascade of honks and passeby shouts. Av. Juan B. Justo was the longest street in the whole of Mar de Plata, soon, the towering skyscrapers scattered across the horizon changed into suburban homes with their tiled red roofs and local farm animals using the road as they pleased.

His jaw hurt from clenching, his knuckles white, beads of sweat running down the side of his forehead. 146. 170. 200. Is it still there? Quick glance towards the rear view mirror. About a meter behind his Corvette? White Volvo.

Enough. Unimaginable screeching as his foot slammed the break pedal and the sports car swayed towards left. Blink, rear view mirror. He watched the driver of the Volvo desperately trying to save his skin, black plume of smoke coming out from the front tires. Front wheel drive, as he predicted. The sedan started spinning around its own axis accompanied by desperate revvs of its engine, breaking through a fence and finally, when there was no more free space to spin, crushing with a loud, dull thud into awhite building.

El Corazòn a Dios, Los Manos el Trabajo — written on the side of the building in curvy elegant letters above the remains of the white sedan.

Complete stop, reverse, turning the steering wheel, 1st gear. The Volvo? Squashed as if hand of God himself was behind it. Car alarm and people shouting, a tired looking middle-aged man locking eyes with Shuntaro as he sped past the scene, heading straight back into the city, to find someone who could perhaps help him. For a price.

* * *

🎶Quiero verla en el show, es como un gato siamés🎶

Chishiya's fingers were very idly tapping to the rhythm of the rock song, his eyes peeled on the road ahead, mind calm enough to put the puzzle pieces together — and there were not many of those. He had the board before his eyes, the plague of insanity hanging above the black king. How many pieces out of the 32 were still there? How many moves until the checkmate? How many boards and players were there? Ringing in his ears, hand wrapping around the steering wheel to the point of his knuckles becoming white. Chishiya took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling as he made a right turn. He remembered his wedding day, she refused to wear a dress, he refused to wear a suit, the scent of black elder reaching his nostrills, her favourite flowers. Ringing ceased. Since Aguni's departure from Hatter, Chishiya took over some of his duties, torn between the flying machines and the fumes of the cocaine lab. He spent the last four years huddled in first-class flights between various cities of Southern American countries, ensuring that Hatter's cocaine empire does not rip at its seams. But, as always, everything has its price, and this time it was Chishiya's knowledge pertaining to Hatter's closest circle and matters within it.

🎶Si todo me sale bien...🎶

He absolutely despised not knowing, the uncertainity of having to deal with situations foreign to him. Although the case usually was that he had time to observe quietly from the shadows, gathering information so that to tweak the events in his favour. This time he had no opportunity to do so, he was thrown right into the chain of events that seemed enitrely too far gone to even attempt anything to prevent the chain from loosing its last link.

🎶...lo haré de nuevo, otra vez.🎶

El Lugar Secreto, said the inconspicuous wooden sign, bleached by the everpresent Sun and dryness. A quiet bookstore, like many others in the city but this one held El Sabeltodo's place of employement, or rather, self-employement. Chishiya parked his Corvette in a secluded alley behind the building and put a black tarp over it — a curteousy of El Sabeltodo's. VIP treatment, scoffed Chishiya mentally.

The deep-green shades in the windows were pulled down, giving a passerby an impression that perhaps the store was closed down, but Chishiya has been here enough times to know that this is simply how El Sabletodo prefers his shop to be. He opened the door and an old-timey chimey reached his ears. A welcome coolness caressing his skin. All of the 4 walls of the homely inside were lined with bookcases, nearby stood a sturdy wooden ladder with wheels leaned over one of the taller bookcases. Chishiya strutted towards the wooden counter, running his pointer finger over one of the nearby books neatly lined up on a low cupboard of sorts. He looked at his hand and rubbed his pointer and thumb together — no trace of dust. Disappointing. He anticipated the day he will pay El Sabletodo a visit and finds the place in a slight dissaray, alas, it was not today. He leaned on the counter and chimed the bell as the owner of the establishment was nowhere to be seen.

A radio playing in the background picqued his interest, the jazzy music suddenly stopping and an urgent electronic jingle coming in its place "...Noticia de hoy - fatal accidente automovilístico en la Av. Juan B. Justo. La policía sospecha que esto es el resultado de una carrera callejera ilegal."

Fuck.

[ricmlm]

The Peugeot Oxia is a prototype presented in 1988 at the Paris Motor Show, it began to be designed at the La Garenne research centre. The name comes from the region of Mars nicknamed “Oxia Palus”, where longitude and latitude are equal to 0, being a possible starting point for calculating time on Mars.

This coupé prototype is a high performance touring car, not being a racing car its design was inspired by high efficiency, making it a super sports car built with the latest technology of the time. The chassis is made of extruded aluminum in “honeycomb” and bodywork in Kevlar and carbon fiber. The small hood, the large windscreen, the absence of protrusions, as well as the electric rear-view mirrors mounted in an elevated position promote better aerodynamics and better visibility to the road. It also has an adjustable spoiler at the rear that changes the angle according to speed.

The engine used in the Oxia is a V6 PRV (Peugeot-Renault-Volvo) of 24v and 2.85 liters (2849cc), equipped with a biturbo system with two Garret T3 turbochargers, delivering 680hp at 8200rpm and 984Nm of maximum torque at 4500rpm, and is placed in a central position. This engine was designed by Gerard Walter, who developed the engine of the WM P88 Peugeot of Le Mans. Power is sent to all four wheels, all four steered with variable assistance, via a Ferguson viscous system.

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[twoguysandaride]

CORONA - Did Toyota BEAT DETROIT at our own GAME???

Today we're talking to Eric about his awesome 1967 Toyota Corona

It's shocking to realize that, when the U.S.-spec Corona arrived for 1965, Toyota's American division sold fewer than 21,000 vehicles here that year. Even that was a boost—Toyota's sales in the first half of the 1960s were dismal. But the Corona, engineered for American driving conditions, fueled the company's rapid growth: In 1968, the year Toyota introduced the soon-to-be-best-selling subcompact Corolla, the automaker sold 72,554 vehicles. With help from the new small sibling, Toyota's U.S. lineup accounted for nearly 124,500 vehicle sales in 1969, and more than 200,000 in 1970, the last year this generation of Corona was offered.

The U.S. market variant of the Corona, introduced here the following year as a 1966 model, was improved primarily with a larger, 1,900-cc "R"-family engine. Under a forward-tilting hood, this longitudinally mounted OHV four-cylinder featured an 88 x 78 mm (3.46 x 3.07 inch) bore and stroke, and 8:1 compression ratio. It used a downdraft two-barrel carburetor with automatic choke to make a respectable 90 hp and 110 lb-ft of torque. That output was enough to afford the Corona a 95-mph top speed when equipped with a three-speed manual gearbox, or 90 mph when fitted with a two-speed "Toyoglide" automatic transmission, the latter being based on GM's Powerglide.

Braking was American-style too: four-wheel drums that measured 9 inches in diameter and sat behind 13-inch wheels mounting 5.60-13 tires. The suspension design was similarly conventional, with unequal-length A-arms and coil springs in front and semi-elliptic leaf springs supporting a semi-floating hypoid live axle in the rear.

Although the Toyota was priced a bit higher than its German competitor, with its modern design, 10.1 cubic feet of trunk space, and the availability of four doors, this model would prove much more accommodating than the VW. It had the Volkswagen beat on standard features, too, including a padded dashboard, visor vanity mirror, full carpeting, a fresh air heater/defroster, two-speed windshield wipers, and quad headlamps. Costing extra on the VW, but included on the Toyota, were vinyl upholstery, a driver's-side armrest, a cigarette lighter, chrome wheel trim rings, undersealing, and twin horns. Other options common to both cars—including a radio—were typically the same price, or cheaper, for buyers of the Japanese car, and Americans could even spec their Coronas with port-installed air conditioning, a real luxury for a small import.

#twoguysandaride #carsoftheday #CarReview #CarReviews #ClassicCar #ClassicCars #ClassicBoat #HowTo #TechHowTo #CarTech #Racing #PontoonBoat #Ford #Chevy #Honda #Toyota #Porsche #Honda #Toyota #Chevrolet #Buick #KIA #Hyundai #GMC #Volvo #Mercedes #Polestar #Ferrari #CarReview #CarReviewChannel #NewCars #Pontoon #FishingBoat #4Wheeler #OffRoad #Dirt #Snow #Sand #Water #Technology #Tech #Bentley #Jaguar #LandRover #Audi #BMW

[sailorhyunjinz]

How would skz as types of drivers for you? [Dón't think bad] -🐤🐾🐺

OH SO LIKE TYPES OF DRIVERS BASICALLY

aight lego-

ALSO REQUESTS ARENT OPEN SO DONT START YALL I LOVE YOU GUYS BUT,,, the drafts are quaking rn

Chan

he's like,,, very confident behind the wheel

like he knows how to drive in a good pace whilst also being a respectful driver

omg always always always waves at old people to cross the road with a smile

always stops for everyone

the amount of wunderbaum in this mans car is phenomenal

why do i see him being annoyed at the prices of a car?

like the insurance and parking and the inspections

he acts like a dad of 4 whenever he has to like pack his car for a trip

SHAHSAHSH PLEASE ALSO THE WHOLE DAD OUTFIT AND HIS FUCKING HONDA CIVIC MAKES ME LAUGH

he's a classy dilf basically

omg please why can i see him driving a volvo sooooo fucking clearly

yes daddy, run me over with your family car <33

Minho

this car EX-PEN-SIVE

he aint being caught dead in a cheap fucking honda

he isnt like agressive but definitely annoyed

he sighs loudly whenever someone cuts infront of him or just yells

every time one of the cats are every hurt or need to go to the vet he makes sure that they have like little seats and their leashes on even if they fucking hate it

no fucking plastic cat cages in his car

why does he swerve so fucking much? like alright,,, we see you but drive me and stop playing around

he doesnt drive an automatic because he cant drive a manual but because an automatic car is a lifestyle <33

he only drives white or black cars

also hates driving other peoples cars because they are "dirty"

as if he cleans his own car pfffft

Changbin

why he so violent

just the actual manifestation of road rage

every time he drives its like you sit beside lucifers son-

just swearword after swearword

sir please stop honking

always has rolled down windows and like one arm resting on the door, one hand on the wheel yaknow ;))

and he wears like sunglasses too AHSHAHS PLEASE STOP PLAYING COOL MISTER

why does he have a old ass pet bottle with water in his trunk along with like silvertape?

CLEAN YOUR FUCKING CAR

does it like once in a blue moon

omg he definitely has like the black out window thingies on his car

i mean for reasons i dont need to mention~~

Hyunjin

i just know that he has like a pink fur thingy on his wheel or like a shiny decal thingy-

checks himself out in the rearview mirror way too many times

might or might not be an actual danger in trafic since he will scroll on his phone or like fix his hair-

the best bops tho, hand him the aux cable he knows whats up

i just think that he has decals all over his fucking car and OH GOD you know those dice that can hang from the inner rearview mirror?? peak whore culture but i love it <33

he loves giving you rides, picks up all his friends

legit "get in, we're going shopping"

man why does he have so many coins in the cup holder along with empty energy drink cans?

ok we get it caffeine addict <33

Jisung

honestly i dont know,,, he's easily scared and kinda skittish so i feel like that wouldnt translate into him being the best driver

but thats because he's actually scared LMAO

how the fuck did he pass his driving test??

"wait,,, i think i poured the windscreen washer fluid into the wrong pipe"

his fridge is just full of speeding tickets or tickets for like wrong parking

i will not be surprised if his car just gets towed one day

angrily talking and yelling over the phone about him forgetting to pay his ticket

that fucking GPS is his bestie

its impossible to count how many times he's gotten lost and been very late to an important thing

why does he suck at parking

Felix

always leaves his keycars on the table with a sly smirk just to flex what kind of car he's driving

omg the amount of like,,, stories and shit whenever he buys a car LMAO

why does he have every flavour gum in his car?

and please dont open the glove compartment,,,,its home for countless amounts of more gum

oh its adorable how he likes driving to the beach with his friends or like drive to get boba or smth

also just driving around with his partner during the late hours, seeing all the buildings and their lights

maybe or maybe not make out on the hood of his car idk

he has like a stuffed animal in his trunk or smth as a mascot or in the backseat

Seungmin

a very calm driver

being completely honest i think he prefers like,,, biking or walking

will start some conversation about how driving is bad for the environment and how he feels good about not contributing to that

NO WAIT THIS MF OWNS AN ELECTRIC CAR

good luck trying to find a place to charge it

his car is soon clean? LIKE HE WASHES IT AND DOES ALL THE NICE THINGS TO IT

it even smells good yall

like riding in his car is a fucking experience, 10/10 uber driver

he will like hand out the aux cord

OR NO HE GOES LIKE FULL DAD MODE AND HUSHES EVERYONE WHEN ITS NEWS ON THE RADIO LMAO

he's just a simple soul when it comes to driving <33

Jeongin

mans just scared

lives with the scary thought that cars can explode because he saw it in a movie

he cannot drive with other people in the car

i just see the others pressuring him into driving whenever they are going on a trip and him just freaking out, dolphin scream behind the wheel

i mean his driving is,,, rather unstable but he's surprisingly good at locating places

he dreams of like being able to go on late night drives but he gets too scared because what if its too dark and he accidentally runs something over

nah thats actually his worth nightmare ; running over an animal

drive through king <33

he loves drive throughs LMAO BECAUSE ITS FOOD AND DUH he's worth it after almost risking his life on the road

[alvinjblog]

Drinking and Driving?

I found it hilarious that the case had so many parallels to the auto industry. Toyota and Lexus was the first thing I also thought of when Concha y Toro was considering moving up in the premium market, as someone with a background from the auto industry. Though Wine and Cars are very different objects, their brands, owners, and perceptions are mirrored, they’re both in the end commodities. Something that rings very true is what Professor Gosline mentioned in the first class, the brand experience has to be consistent. 

Oddly enough, for awhile growing up I did not know Lexus was a Japanese brand let alone Toyota’s. I had always thought it was a European brand based on how it presented itself: it was never mentioned with Toyota, it was always advertised separately and the feel was always similar to European vehicles, a sense of superiority and luxury. This was very similar but the opposite when Toyota launched the Scion brand. Until I worked at Toyota I didn’t know that the Scion brand was a part of Toyota. In this situation I actually viewed it quite negatively and cheap, thinking the brand was for cheap kids. Whereas in reality the vehicles had Toyota quality and lower prices. It’s pretty amazing how brands can effect your perception of things even though under the hood they’re all the same car. 

Thinking through both strategies... 

Bottom up 

The problem with pursuing a bottom up strategy is similar to the perception of Chilean wines in Japan, the perception of the brand’s wine is already compromised, because its seen as a lower end brand. Something we’ve studied multiple times in other classes are luxury brands ability to move back upwards after pushing their own brand down stream, but that requires the heritage that these brands like Gucci used to have, something the upstart new world wine producers in Chile do not have. Despite Don Melchor and Almaviva being a high quality segment success, Concha y Toro were still considered basic wines. It’s very hard to shed a label of being cheap. 

Top Down 

Taking a prestigious brand, introducing cheaper models, and then having the consumer buy up as they grow up. BMW and Mercedes both did try this in the past, and both of them ended up pulling their cheaper offerings in the US. The 1 series was not sold after 2013, though Mercedes is bringing the A class to the US. The brand perception of Mercedes in the US vs Europe is always interesting too, where Mercedes are seen as more everyday vehicles, but almost strictly luxury in the US. There still isn’t a Mercedes/BMW below 35k ish in the US.

It may be best similar to auto companies to establish a completely different brand, and try to position them upstream. Though the products will still be the same, the perception will be very different. Consistency in a brand is key, and both the above strategies seem to forego this very important lesson. 

Ford may have bought Jaguar and Volvo to try and target the upper-class segment, but the company never let them keep their brand consistency after incorporating them into the greater company. instead, they produced cheap and terrible platform shared Fords, souring consumers outlooks on their brands.  

[devinsnewyork]

Juliet and Thisbe’s Unexpected Adventure

(temporary title, will take suggestions)

It was the end of August; summer was still very much alive (the heat oppressive and the days long), but with two more weeks until Thisbe went back to college, it already felt like summer was taking his last breaths. 

Thisbe had thought this summer would be The One. She’d planned to write a book and watch all the movies on her list and go to parties with her high school friends, but all she’d managed to do was befriend the local murder. 

“Hey, Nigel.” Thisbe held out her left hand, which held a few pistachio nuts. “Here you go.” Nigel hopped onto her knee, black head twitching, shiny eye looking like a pebble glued to his face. Then he pecked at the nuts. Stretching her right hand out a few feet from her body, Thisbe opened her palm, revealing the peanuts for the other three crows, Sir Bird, Walter, and Captain Corvid, better known as the Captain. 

It’s not that Thisbe hadn’t had human contact all summer; she regularly hung out with her friends. She just felt lonely in the way all people do, Carson McCullers’ the Heart Is a Lonely Hunter kind of loneliness. She couldn’t describe the feeling herself; she could just remember what writers had written in the past and feel it. 

She watched the sun blink, his eyes drooping low, his tired sighs turning the sky orange. Her murder lingered for a few minutes, and Thisbe pretended that it was because they enjoyed her company, not because they were hoping for more food. 

“Dude!” Nigel squawked. Thisbe beamed at him.

“Dude!” She shook her head, still smiling. Teaching the crows human words was definitely one of her better ideas. 

“Come with us!” Thisbe snapped her head to the right and narrowed her eyes at the Captain. 

“Since when could you say that?” 

“Come with us! Adventure!” This time it was Walter who spoke, fluttering his wings by his side and tilting his head up, sending his calls into the sky. Thisbe kept shifting her gaze, taking turns on staring at all the crows, who were all remarkably still for such twitchy creatures, and she swallowed when she realized it seemed that they were all looking at her. 

No. Thisbe shook her head vigorously and stood. Nothing weird here, no call to adventure. These are normal crows. 

“Where are you going? Adventure!” 

“Come with us!”

“No, guys.” Thisbe sighed and showed them her empty palms. “No adventure. Good night.” That apparently wasn’t the right thing to say because the crows started screeching angrily, a raucous, discordant orchestra composed of scratchy violins, piercing violas, and cellos with their strings snapping. “Shh! Stop!” But her murder, ever recalcitrant, continued the ear-splitting squawk fest. Thisbe grimaced and retreated indoors, where the shrill noise was much more muted. 

Thisbe’s dad was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, plate with crumbs sitting in front of him, his face in his phone. She tilted her head and looked at him. 

With his wide eyes, high cheekbones, and square chin, he and Thisbe looked nothing alike. All they shared was their cool obsidian skin. 

“What is wrong with those crows?” Thisbe’s mom walked in, eyebrows high on her forehead. Thisbe shrugged sheepishly and ducked her head, and her mom laughed. “You better apologize. I want to sleep tonight.” She threw Thisbe a pointed look, round face betraying amusement in the fullness of her cheeks and the topaz glow in her eyes. 

“I tried, I swear.” Thisbe opened the silver refrigerator, grabbed a red apple, and made for her room, twisting away from her mother when she reached out to squeeze her shoulder. Ignoring the shrieks coming from her brothers and sisters in the living room, Thisbe took the stairs two at a time. She opened the first door on the right and closed it behind her. 

She sighed and threw herself down onto her bed, biting into the apple and staring at the ceiling. The white fan circled around, and Thisbe tried to follow one blade around and around and around with her eyes until they started to water. She sat up and sighed again, glancing around at the computer that lay on the grey rug on the floor, the guitar leaning against a green wall, the stack of books she had piled in front of the much-too-small bookcase, and she only had to ask herself what should I do? once before her phone buzzed. She took another bite of the apple and thumbed open her phone. 

Thisbe smiled so widely a bit of apple juice dripped onto her chin.

Juliet: what are you doing

Thisbe typed back Nothing. 

Juliet: lame. 

Juliet: you should hang out with me instead 

Thisbe sent back Okay. 

Juliet: good i’m outside your house

Thisbe barked a shocked laugh, then shot up. She glanced at herself in the mirror, making sure her afro wasn’t doing anything weird before jogging down the stairs, shouting “JULIET’S HERE I’LL BE BACK LATER BYE LOVE YOU” just as she pulled the front door shut. She turned and waved to her friend and walked around to the passenger side door of her little, black 2004 Volvo called Romeo. 

Juliet’s long hair was pulled into a low ponytail, evidence that her curls were too frizzy to let loose tonight. Thisbe’s eyes lingered on the blue silk ribbon that complimented Juliet’s dark brown hair and made her look like Anastasia from that animated movie they both loved as kids. “So!” Thisbe waited for Juliet to look up from her phone. “Where to?” 

Juliet shrugged. “Do you wanna get sorbet?” 

“Duh.” 

Juliet shuffled their favorite playlist and started singing along as she pulled away from the curb. 

At the outdoor ice cream shop, Juliet and Thisbe ate their lemon sorbet with rainbow sprinkles from small cups and watched people come and go. Thisbe couldn’t stop laughing; she was so happy to be with Juliet. They weren’t best friends, but Thisbe always relished Juliet’s company, and eating sorbet with her in the dark while joking back and forth made her feel relished, too. How dare she let herself feel lonely! This is was love felt like. Thisbe wanted to hold on to this. 

Juliet drove her home and was just pulling up to the curb, ready to drop Thisbe off, when there was a blurry shape and a loud THUD against the windshield. Both girls screamed. The shape moved, popped up, and tapped its talons against the glass. 

“Thisbe!” Juliet gasped. “Is that one of yours?” 

The crow twitched and glared at Thisbe, and she recognized the patch of feathers missing around her right eye. “It’s the Captain.” She opened up the door and shouted, “DON’T GO IN FRONT OF CARS YOU IDIOT! WE COULD’VE KILLED YOU!” The Captain flapped his dark wings that blended in with the night and flew forward, landing on the frame of the door Thisbe had just propped open. He turned his head to look at her sternly with one eye. 

“Come with us! Adventure!” 

Thisbe groaned. “Not this again.” 

Juliet placed her hand on Thisbe’s shoulder, getting the other woman’s attention. “Um … we have company.” 

Thisbe’s mouth dropped open. She stepped out of a car to get a better look at the tens of hundreds of crows that were coming to land on the hood of the car, the paved street, the sidewalks, even mailboxes and the roofs of houses. Thisbe couldn’t see all their bodies, but she could see their eyes, all of which reflected the white shine from Romeo’s headlights, and she could hear the beating of wings like the turning of thousands of pages. 

“Adventure!” Nigel was there, his one white feather making him noticeable even though he was completely surrounded by crows in his spot by Thisbe’s feet. 

“Thisbe. Are your crows giving you a quest?” 

“No! They’re … they’re normal crows, Juliet.” 

“Normal crows don’t give you quests.” 

“They’re not giving me a quest!” 

“Quest!” The Captain squawked from the door. 

“Come with us!” Nigel hopped forward and landed on Thisbe’s sneakers, looking up expectantly. 

“Thisbe …” Juliet turned and looked at her friend with wide brass eyes. “Follow the crows.” 

“Are you joking?” 

“Are you?” Juliet waved a frantic hand back and forth. “Do you see this? This is not normal. They’re talking. Follow them.” 

“Are you gonna come with me?” 

“Of course.” 

Thisbe bit her lip, then turned and looked at the Captain, who stood just above eye level. “Okay. We’ll follow you.” The crow puffed up his chest and called out to the group. The mass of crows lifted from the ground, wings collectively flapping as loudly as helicopter blades, and they all started moving down the street. Thisbe and Juliet followed, glancing between each other and the birds silently with wide eyes and open mouths. 

Thisbe’s hands were shaking. 

They moved up the small street Thisbe’s house was on, past all the yellow and blue and brick suburban homes filled with sleeping, ignorant people. Thisbe hoped no one would decide to glance out the window to uncover the source of the deafening noise that almost sounded like hurricane winds. The crows all turned right, so Thisbe and Juliet followed. Then the crows veered off the street and started across a small field, headed towards the forest. 

“Juliet … I don’t like this.” 

“Thisbe, I think we don’t have a choice.” 

The two girls trailed the mammoth murder into the woods, tripping over roots and uneven earth even when dimly lighting the way with iPhone flashlights. The crows started moving faster, then suddenly the flapping noise was above the women, and the birds tore through leaves and left Thisbe and Juliet alone. 

The quiet rang in Thisbe’s ears. Her head hurt. “Where do we go now?” 

“Look ahead.” Juliet pointed, but Thisbe couldn’t see anything. She followed Juliet through some more trees and saw some flags up ahead, red flags on a string stretching between two tall trees. Juliet marched right through. 

Thisbe blinked. Juliet wasn’t there. 

Thisbe choked on shock and for a moment was still, but then her legs by instinct carried her forward under the flags into a green clearing with withering purple asters shaking in the grass. The trees around were all bare, the sky above a sickly grey-blue. 

Nigel, Sir Bird, Walter, and the Captain flew from behind and hovered in front of the women. 

“Follow us! A quest!” Then the four birds started through the trees. 

Thisbe looked over at Juliet. “I think we just answered our call to adventure.” 

“Shut up and get moving, they’re not slowing down for us.” 

Thisbe and Juliet left the clearing, jogging through a foreign forest after four feathery guides, and Thisbe wondered what adventure they could’ve possibly gotten themselves into.

[criquette-was-here]

Replies, finally!

Anonymous said:

Hiii!! It would be amazing if you made those car models into actual buyable/drive able cars! They would fit so well into real cars for the game!! Have you thought about maybe doing that?

Hey anon! Oh, having these cars as a lot mode buyable/driveable vehicles would be awesome, although I don’t think I could manage to adapt them all to this purpose. You see, hood deco cars I’m working on have no interior, there are no doors in most cases, and the wheels are extremely lowpoly. It would take a lot of time to prepare everything and I have zero experience in rigging cars so that it would actually work in game.

Anonymous said:

Your answer about extracting sims and sim surgery was super helpful and interesting! Thank you!             

You what mate? O.o  Lol! Looks like you’ve got the wrong inbox :D

Anonymous said:

Would be cool with a police version of the "Vikea" similiar to the never used demonstration version that shows up if you google "volvo police car falls church virginia"             

Oh, that police car looks really nice! I might do that actually. I wanted to do some more emergency vehicles anyway so

@yosarna​ said:

Hello there! What camera mod are you using?

Hello Yosarna! I  can’t remember if I’m honest, but it’s definitely the one from @lowedeus​ compilation. But that’s no big deal, since now we have this camera released by @lowedeus​! I strongly recommend to use it.

Anonymous said:

Thank you SO much for all the amazing cc and work you've done for the TS2 community.             

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Anonymous said:

You show them pics of your Unfinished NH like that's enough to hide the fact that you're Jesus smh -.-            

Hey! It’s Criquette. I don’t even bowl, dude!

Anonymous said:

Is there any 000000000000.1 chance the cars can move?             

The cars that ride the streets in neighborhood mode can be defaulted with the ones I’m making, so yes. Kind of.

Anonymous said:

Which Water Mod do you use? It looks like the in between of Voeille's and the vanilla water             

Oh, yes, it’s vanilla Super Collection water. The water reflection on mac version of TS2 is quite a bit meh, so it doesn’t have any animation, nor small ripples like the classic windows TS2 nhood water has. Just plain mirror.

Anonymous said:

Hi criquette! Lovely work on Feverfew and good luck to you! I was wondering, will Feverfew be available as a subhood or only as a main hood? :)  Hope you have a nice day!             

Hey anon! I Thank you! I can’t see why it shouldn’t have this option, so yes, that’s possible!

Anonymous said:

Can u plz teach @leoz94​ how to season his flora😭 for the culture 

Lol! I’m certain that @leoz94​ is capable of doing seasoned flora, but often it’s the matter of time and priorities and one is forced to choose between making six different trees and a single season enabled tree. Making seasoned flora can be time consuming.

Anonymous said:

Hello! I saw your reply under iCad's reply to my ask about slaved deco road pieces and plopped both these pieces and bridges from your RC. They really changed texture to my road defaults, but problem is that they're much darker than my roads. I'm using dreadpirate's road default v1 and her roads are quite bright, but both your bridges and road pieces are much darker and this looks weird. :/  At night, they look okay and match, but during the day, there's big difference between. Any idea why?            

Hello there! Yes, decorative road pieces do look darker than the real road in lot mode because it’s how the game works. In neighborhood mode real roads are represented by ‘overlay’ mesh which is just hovers over the terrain. In lot mode, lot skirt roads become one with the terrain, so basically, One tile of the real road in nhood mode and one tile of the real road in lot mode are completely different things. They use different shaders, different textures and different material definitions. Whilst hood deco road piece is just a hood deco which stays the same no matter if it’s hood mode or lot mode.

Anonymous said:

hey criquette!! i’m really enjoying watching feverfew come slowly together, it looks amazing!! i also really like the detailed vehicles you’ve been making, and i was wondering if it was possible to have them as defaults for the nhood animated traffic? i think it would look really nice...             

Hey nonnie! Thank you! Yes, that’s totally doable, although I’m not sure this option will be available by the time the whole set will be released.

Anonymous said:

Hi Criquette, just downloaded Rural Charm and have everything showing up correctly except for the road overlays. One of the straight pieces shows grass on the sides to cover the Maxis sidewalk, but when I place it the grass disappears. I know that I can just delete the sidewalks but that messes with driveway orientation             

Hello anon! Oh, yes, that’s because I’ve made road overlays with transparent roadsides. What happens is; when you just holding it, the game renders a preview of the piece without applying the alpha channel, but it’s there once it’s placed. I really need to season these overlays, so that we could have a proper snowy roadsides in winter and also have an option of not getting rid of sidewalks. 

Anonymous said:

I'm writing this quickly since sou said you'll babe answering ass tomorrow ! I hope you're doing good ! I'm sorry if it has been already asked, it can be quite annoying to answer the same things again and again, but I was wondering if you'd ever convert you hood decor into objects for other versions of the game (ts3 and ts4) or if you'd ever allow conversions from others ? Have a nice day !             

Hey anon! Lol, yes I’m absolutely fine with people converting my hood decos to other sims games! Although I never do it myself because I play TS2 only. Oh well, who am I lying to anyway. I just make hood decos for it |◔◡◉|

[iahmedabouzeid]

The evolution of the car has been a long one, but as time moves on, technology develops faster and faster. The first car was invented in 1886 if you believe Mercedes-Benz, and then Henry Ford revolutionized how they were built with the Model T in 1908. In 1922, electronic ignition replaced the starter crank handle, but it wasn’t until 1949 that Chrysler introduced the keyed ignition into production cars. Cigarette lighters came to automobiles in 1921, then car radios in 1930

Once entertainment was taken care of, power steering appeared as far back as 1951, and then Chrysler introduced air conditioning in 1953, and cruise control appeared as early as 1958. Three-point seat belt appeared in 1959 courtesy of Volvo, while the 1960s saw electric windows, heated seats, and intermittent wipers appear. Anti-lock brakes were first seen in 1971, in 1973, the catalytic converter turned up to ruin everyone’s fun for nearly twenty years, and the first digital dashboard appeared in 1974. Airbags started becoming standard in the 1980s, then, in the 1990s, things started picking up. That’s where we’ll start with the evolution of modern car technologies as we know them

1990: Built-In Satellite Navigation

We take a GPS based navigation for granted now, but once upon a time, people had to use paper maps and written directions. Then companies started playing with navigation systems in cars, which were problematic for several reasons, mainly in being able to pinpoint the car’s location accurately. Then, in 1990, Mazda was the first to put a GPS based navigation system in a production vehicle. It went into the Japanese market Eunos Cosmo, which is a whole article in itself. The first GPS navigation system in a US car came from Oldsmobile and was a $1,995 option in 1995. It wasn’t until 2000 that the US government made a more accurate GPS signal available for civilian use, and GPS based navigation started to become commonplace

1996: Connected Cars

The term ‘connected cars’ has become a buzzword in the 21st century, but it was GM working with Motorola that created the first connected system for a car, and they called it OnStar. The first OnStar telematics systems could call emergency services if an airbag deployed, and was first fitted to the Cadillac Eldorado, DeVille, and Seville. Over time, the ability to add GPS locations and the ability to transmit voice and data at the same time evolved. OnStar is still a feature on cars and in its tenth generation and with a lot more features added, but virtually every automaker has a similar system available

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1998: Color Head-Up Display

The head-up display (HUD) was a futuristic sci-fi wonder in the 1980s. The first automotive head-up display appeared on the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Indy Pace Cars and replicas in 1998. They became more widely available, and Toyota and Nissan started offering them on select models, most notably the Nissan 240SX. They’ve now become a common option for cars, and many automakers make them standard on higher trims. Most HUD systems use color to draw the eye to pertinent information, but the first car to offer a color head-up display was the 1998 Chevrolet Corvette. Cadillac then offered a HUD in the XLR, and BMW pushed development hard with the 2003 5 Series

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1999: Laser Adaptive Cruise Control

Mercedes has a long list of technology it has brought to market before anyone else, often in its most premium of premium models. Mitsubishi pioneered laser-controlled cruise control with a lidar-based cruise control system that used throttle and transmission control to adapt the car’s speed but didn’t use the brakes. Mercedes introduced its Distronic system in 1999 on the S-Class and CL as the first radar-assisted Autonomous cruise control system available worldwide. Its impact reverberates still as autonomous vehicle technology slowly creeps forward

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2000/2001: Bluetooth

A Bluetooth connection to our cellphones is something we take for granted in 2020, and it’s rare for a car to be sold without Bluetooth technology as standard. In the mid-1990s, you could buy a car stereo head unit with Bluetooth, but it was a while before it appeared as an option. History is a little hazy about which manufacturer offered it from the factory first as Chrysler saw it as a great idea early on, but it’s likely the Acura TL was the first car to be offered in the US with the technology equipped

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2001: Modern Infotainment System

It’s hard to pin down when the infotainment system, as we know it today, came into being. BMW introduced its iDrive system to the 7 Series in 2001; it featured a prominent screen that was controlled by a central knob and meant fewer buttons on the dashboard. But the first touchscreen in a car dates back to the 1986 Buick Riviera and its green-and-black cathode-ray tube display. At that time, Popular Mechanics wrote that the touchscreen “violates the First Commandment of ergonomics – you must take your eyes off the road to make any adjustments.” 21 years later, after the release of the first Apple iPhone in 2007, we saw the big move to touchscreen systems in cars

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2002: Parking Camera

The first example of a rearview camera goes back to the 1956 Buick Centurion concept car. Volvo also toyed with the idea in 1972 Volvo Experimental Safety Car, but it didn’t make it into production for some time. The first production car with a rear camera was the Japanese market 1991 Toyota Soarer Limited, but not the US market’s Lexus SC equivalent. However, it was Infiniti that added guidelines for parking on the 2002 Q45 flagship sedan, which debuted at the New York Auto Show in 2000. Nissan also used the 2002 Nissan Primera to introduce the technology outside of the US and Japan. Legislation introduced in 2018 has subsequently made the humble reverse camera standard in all modern cars. The concept of a surround-view camera then arrived on the 2008 Infiniti EX35, using four cameras to give a bird’s eye view of the vehicle, with numerous manufacturers following suit

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2004: Remote Start

Remote start technology had been available via the aftermarket for years before 2004, but that was the year GM decided to make the technology available direct from the factory. Before starting, the vehicles were set to run diagnostics in engine oil pressure, engine temperature, throttle position, brake/transmission shift position, and battery voltage. If everything checked out and the hood wasn’t open, the car could be started from the key fob and then be unlocked at the driver’s leisure. It has become an incredibly valuable feature for people living in climates with particularly hot or cold weather, allowing them to start the car and let it cool down or warm up before even leaving the house

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2006: Self Parking Car

Lexus showed the world the first self-parking production car; the 2006 LS 460 sedan was unveiled at the Detroit International Auto Show, and the technology blew people away. To activate it, the driver had to put the car in reverse, which enabled the rearview camera, then press the parallel park icon on the touchscreen to place an indicator square over the parking space they wanted to use. The driver could then release the steering wheel while the car parked and maneuvered itself. Other manufacturers followed, and, with each iteration, the technology has gotten smoother, more precise, and faster to park

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2007: Blind Spot Monitoring

As thicker pillars became prevalent due to safety legislation due to rollover risks, blind spots when using side-view mirrors became more problematic on passenger vehicles. Volvo developed its Blind Spot Information System and included it on its 2007 S80 sedan, which created a visible alert for the driver when changing lanes with another car present. Ford was Volvo’s parent company at the time and started using the same system for all of its brands. Mazda then used a similar system for its 2008 Mazda CX-9, but only in Grand Touring trim. In 2013, Mazda started making it more available through its range, and other companies followed suit. Blind-spot monitoring systems are now also used for rear-cross-traffic safety systems

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2007: LED Headlights

The common halogen lamp is an energy-hungry unit and is usually only rated for around 800 hours of use, while High Intensity Discharge (HID) lighting is an expensive and complicated system that’s not the most ideal either. LED headlights, however, strike an excellent balance, and give bright white light, light up faster than halogen, are energy-efficient, and have a long operating life. They’re also easy to package as they use small bulbs and allow automakers to get creative with lighting designs.

The use of LEDs for exterior on cars goes back as far as the 1986 Chevrolet Corvette’s brake lights. Kia started using LED turn indicators in 2002, and then the 2007 Audi R8 used LED daytime running lights. Outside of the US, the R8 had the first option for LED headlights while, at the same time, the Lexus LS featured LED low beams and side markers in the US. The Cadillac Escalade featured low and high beams powered by LEDs in 2009, but it wasn’t until the current-generation Mercedes S-Class that we saw the first car to use exclusively LED lighting, both inside and out

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2009: Smart Phone Connected Cars

Now, pretty much every automaker has something to offer in the way of smartphones interacting with a car. In 2009, Mercedes launched the first iteration of its ‘mbrace’ app to allow remote access to owner’s vehicles from their smartphone. It worked with iPhone and Blackberry and allowed remote door locking and unlocking as well as vehicle location. Since then, apps from automakers have increased in scope to include everything including diagnostics, checking the fuel level, the vehicle’s location, remote start, and even booking service appointments

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2012: First License For Autonomous Cars

The race to build the first production autonomous car started in the 2010s. It was Google that secured the first license to take its experimental driverless technology on the road. The Toyota Prius was issued its license in Nevada and opened the gates to testing autonomous systems. That has led us to a plethora of driver assistance features on production cars, such as lane-keeping, collision avoidance, and advanced adaptive cruise control systems. In 2014, Tesla then dropped its first iteration of Autopilot for existing owners as the first commercially available system that can steer the car without input from the driver and change lanes on the motorway

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2014: Apple CarPlay

A common problem with automaker’s infotainment systems has been that they are not designed well and are often operated on hardware to that found in the smartphone in the driver’s pocket. Apple’s CarPlay came to market in 2014, closely followed by Android Auto, to change that. Both Apple and Google lead the way with their voice control and navigation, and the systems use popular travel and music apps, integrating everyday life with the car, and ensuring that a car’s tech is never further behind than your easily-upgradable smartphone. All you currently have to do is plug in your phone, and it becomes the infotainment system

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2018: Phone As Key

Keyless entry has been with us for a long time. Ford’s SecuriCode has been around since 1980, although it started out being called Keyless Entry System. It’s been a slow burn for the technology to become mainstream and has always required having your remote in your pocket. It seems incredible that it took so long, but Tesla introduced its customers to use a cellphone to replace the remote key fob in 2018. Model 3’s were able to sense the driver’s phone from up to 30 feet away and unlock the doors. There have been security and safety concerns, which is why the more traditional automakers have been slow to follow, but soon, this tech will be the go-to choice

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Source carBuzz

  The Evolution of Modern Car Technology The evolution of the car has been a long one, but as time moves on, technology develops faster and faster.

[moonlightmadnessreviews]

Don’t Look Now

  You know what the air feels like towards the end of September? Where it’s breezy, but not enough to cool you down or whip your hair into your face? That’s what this night was like. I’d left work much later than usual, so even on this summer night, I’d already missed the sunset. There wasn’t a trace of the pinks and purples in the sky that people sit out on their porch to enjoy. Parking spots for paralegals were lined up about 10 or so rows behind that of the lawyers, meaning I had quite a walk back to my car. The parking spots sat in front of a line of thick, tall trees. They looked like bodyguards standing watch over the varying vehicles. I usually didn’t mind the walk back to my car but on this particularly cool night, I’d noticed the light closest to my spot was out. As I saw this, my eyes followed the post downward catching sight of some shattered glass. Instantly, something just didn’t feel right to me.

  My pace quickened and I fumbled inside my bag searching for my keys. Reaching my old Volvo, my fingers finally felt something familiar. Just then I heard a rustling coming from the tree line. I scanned the tree line, unable to tell exactly where the sound had originated, but I could hear what sounded like footsteps, and they were growing louder. My hands were shaking and I could feel the blood pumping harder with each passing moment. I was trying to keep my breath steady and I could feel sweat beginning to bead up on my forehead. As I finally pulled my keys out, I heard the sound again but this time there was no confusion as to the source. The sound was coming from just beyond my Volvo, only a few yards in front of me. I stared into the tree line and heard a loud, phlegm filled cackle. Having been startled, my nervous hands lost their grip and dropped my keys. I bent down quickly and searched for them as I now heard the sound of something exiting the tree line.

  Nerves made 3 seconds feel more like 3 hours and the sprint from behind my car to the door seem like a marathon. My heart was in my throat and I felt like I could hardly breathe as I unlocked the door. Praying my car old car would start, I jammed the key into the cylinder and turned. Nothing. Looking back I know how typical it all sounds; A young lady fearing for her life gets stuck in a car that won’t start up. But in the moment all I could do was slam my fist into the steering wheel, my eyes welling up with tears. Again and again I turned the key, growing more hysterical with each attempt. I could have tried it 100 times in all, but once I finally heard the engine turn over I almost wished it hadn’t. As my lights came on, they shone on the image of a hooded man. He had what looked to be a hammer or an axe in his hand. I could feel the screams already forming in my throat as he began approaching the car. His strides were long and calculated. His form, now free of the flood of light from my car, was a tall silhouette. The screams made their way out of my throat as he began banging on the glass and flashes of light blinded me as I tried to push my body away from the window.

  I screamed until I was sure I would pass out. “The locks! Kim lock the God damn-“ I thought to myself, just as the door swung open. A gloved hand reached inside and grabbed at my wrist, squeezing hard enough for me to hear the leather creaking. My lungs could hardly take in air quickly enough and as I grew lightheaded, my scream grew weaker, dying down in volume. This meant it was just quiet enough for me to hear a familiar sound. Laughter. But this wasn’t the cackle I’d heard earlier. It was a very familiar laugh in fact. I was still seeing stars from the flashes of light, but I could hear just fine, if not better than normal due to my heightened awareness in the moment. “Happy Anniversary babe!” shouted my husband. Scott was laughing and holding back tears, unlike myself who was letting the tears flow freely at this point. My entire body felt locked up and tense in a strange combination of fear, confusion and anger. “I wish you could have seen your face! Wait, you can, but you’ll just have to wait for the Polaroids to develop!”  He stopped to catch his breath, and then continued. “Kim that was so much better than I’d even imagined it would be. How did you not recognize me when the lights came on?”, he said through loud chortles.

  I had been so wrapped up in the case I was assisting on that I’d completely forgotten our 2 year wedding anniversary. Through my tears I finally managed to put together a somewhat coherent string of words. “Scott how the hell?... The lights!... How long where you in the trees Scott?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He was so excited to give me the details of his plan that he stood with his feet shoulder width apart, knees bent and hands out in front of him as though he was going to pitch one of his movie ideas to a studio executive. “Okay so once you called me to say you’d be late, I figured we wouldn’t be going out to dinner. I thought I’d drive to the florist and come down to surprise you instead. I wound up parking in the client parking just in front of the building, so as I walked back to your car, I noticed the lights by the tree line and the gravel. I started trying to shoot out the closest lights with a couple of stones and then I just waited behind the trees. I couldn’t have been out here for more than… 20 minutes? I’m not sure, it may have been closer to 45 minutes but it was worth it in the end. Oh! The Polaroids are developed! Here! Take a look!”

  My husband Scott was a jerk. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but being my husband, he knew just how to get under my skin. Scott worked in special effects and had worked on a number of horror movies, as if that were a surprise. He and his brothers were raised on Romero, Carpenter, and King, whereas I was raised on Disney movies. He’d tried to get me to watch some movies with him when we’d first started dating and seeing how I reacted to each scare with an ear piercing scream, he quickly realized he could make a game out of this. It really did bring him great pleasure to see me frightened, no matter how mad I’d get at him afterwards.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell that these tricks didn’t amuse me, he simply didn’t care. On one occasion, he’d placed a fake head in the pantry. The material this severed head was wrapped in looked just like human skin and the blood that oozed out of the mouth sent me stumbling backwards into the wine rack. Having also spilled my coffee all over the floor, a laughing Scott cleaned up, made me pancakes and began brewing another cup of coffee. Scott would put effort into apologizing to me after each of these pranks, but he eventually grew to learn it was better keeping his distance afterwards, unless he wanted to resemble the prop head in the pantry. As mad as I could get, the apologies were simple, but appreciated. The downside was that Scott felt he could get away with this behavior, leading to worse pranks as time went on. If he’d hide in the laundry room with a creepy mask on, he’d cook me salmon for dinner. On one occasion he’d sent me a video of a puppy, along with a caption that read “Did you hear the cute little noise it made at the end? Turn the sound up!” 15 Seconds into the video, the face of a demon popped onto the screen and let out a scream nearly as loud as my own. That earned him a night on the couch, but I ended up with a brand new purse.

  People say that you shouldn’t accept behavior simply because you’ve grown accustomed to it. Over time though, Scott’s behavior began to wear me down, and it was showing. I was tired of this routine, so I decided it was time to have some fun of my own. We were now nearing the end of September and going into Scott’s favorite time of year: The Halloween Season. Fox Hills was a small town, so the costume shops were already opening up. I bought some glow in the dark fangs, a white wig to cover up my big brown curls, and some prop intestines to cover with some of Scott’s homemade prop blood. I’d left everything wrapped in a white dress and stuck it under our bed. I had a leg up on Scott since every now and then I would be long gone by the time he’d wake up for work. Slowly shimmying my way out of bed, I grabbed my “Scare Kit” and crept into the garage. I made sure to unscrew the lightbulb that hung just over Scott’s pickup to help give me just enough cover, then, once my costume was on and I was sufficiently covered in fake blood, I climbed into the bed of his truck. When I finally heard Scott making his way down the hall and into the garage, I tried to be as quiet as possible. I knew that if I gave myself away, there would be no way of me getting a second chance at this.

  The light switch flicked on and off 2 or 3 times and I could hear Scott’s confusion manifesting itself in the pauses between each try. With a frustrated huff, he made his way over to the old Ford. As the doors unlocked with a loud KA-THUNK, I loaded my mouth up with fake blood. The stuff tasted horrible and I grimaced as I accidentally swallowed some. The old Ford’s engine turned over and that was my cue. I slammed my hands against the glass just behind Scott’s head and let out a scream worthy of a banshee as I spewed the fake blood from my mouth. The look on his face as he saw me in his rear-view mirror was exactly what I’d dreamt of. He let out a scream I didn’t even think he was capable of and punched the horn of his pickup so hard I was surprised the airbags didn’t deploy. I’m sure I lost some of my hearing in that moment but once the horn finally died off, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically!

  I’d done it! I’d gotten him back for all those times he’d nearly made me wet myself! Once Scott realized what was going on, he couldn’t help but join in my laughter, as nervous as his sounded in comparison. “Kim I could kill you right now!” he screamed. “What goes around comes around.” I said, waving the fake intestines at him. He stepped out of the cab and grabbed my face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you babe. Despite the heart attack I’m in the middle of, I have to admit, you did good.” My cheeks were nearly numb from how hard I was smiling when I saw a look come across Scott’s face. My smile quickly began to fade as I realized just what that look meant. “You do know this means war right?” said my husband. “With Halloween just around the corner, who knows when I could enact my revenge.” Scott’s evil grin curled up at the edges, but softened a bit when he saw the dread on my face. What had I opened myself up to? How could he possibly do any worse than what I’ve been through in the past? Seeing I was already worried, he kissed my forehead and wished me a good day as I climbed out of the truck and headed back in the house for a shower.

  Surprisingly, the next few nights went by without incident. Scott was being extra sweet which only made me grow more and more paranoid. The days turned to weeks and I got more uneasy as the time passed. One night I’d come home to boxes of chocolate waiting for me and Scott laughed as he saw me check each one for bugs or some other kind of rancid trick. A few nights later he took me to the movies and when his truck suddenly broke down on him on a long dark stretch of road, it took him nearly an hour to convince me that his brother’s weren’t going to pop out of the trees with chainsaws. After that night I realized that Scott had switched up his tactics this time and was getting a kick out of seeing just how paranoid and on edge I was, so I decided to let it go and just relax.

 It was Halloween night and my phone rang as I was sitting home alone on the couch.

“Hey babe, I’m sorry I’m calling you so last minute but I’m going to be stuck here on set a little later than I’d anticipated.” said Scott, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed.

“That’s fine. I get it. The food will be in the fridge so feel free to make yourself a plate whenever you get in.” I was disappointed of course, but this wasn’t the first call like this I’d gotten during our marriage. “What do you want me to do with the bottle of wine you bought for tonight though?” I asked.

“Enjoy it. I don’t know when I’ll be home so take it as a sign of my most sincere apologies. I love you Kimmy.”

“I love you, too. Just try not to wake me when you get home. Bye.” I hung up, disappointed to have movie night ruined but not disappointed enough to keep me from opening the bottle of wine. I decided I’d catch up on a few shows I had lingering on my DVR, and let all the stress from my latest case wash away with the night. Now truth be told, I wasn’t really much of a drinker. In fact, I only ever drank if Scott and I were heading out to dinner. Well into the night, I was on my third glass of Merlot and began feeling a little buzzed and more than a little tired. I’d figured I’d hop into the shower to complete my night of relaxation and then head straight to bed.

  Pulling the shower curtain aside, I let the water run for a couple minutes. A nice hot shower always helped me to relax for bed and the last few drops of wine certainly helped. In our shower was a beautifully framed window made out of thick frosted glass. I always loved the way it looked on nights like this, the moonlight adding an otherworldly glow to it. Not wanting to fill the bathroom with steam, my showers were usually on the warmer side, I cracked the window open an inch or two at the top. I undressed and stepped into the tub, sure to let my feet settle as I was feeling somewhat off balance from the wine. I began to shampoo my hair and laughed to myself a bit as I closed my eyes. I had a habit of shutting them as tight as I could to avoid blinding myself, but I would often speed through working the shampoo in and rinsing it out so I could open them back up as quickly as possible. This only got worse after I’d watched “Pyscho” with Scott for the first time. It had obviously left an impression on me.

  I could feel a cool breeze making its way in through the top of the window, only to be stopped dead in its tracks by the steam. The blue moonlight was shining through the window and my eyes, blurred by the running water and wine of the evening, were taking in its beauty. I continued washing off, my dark skin glowing and taking on the look of polished obsidian as the moon shone through the frosted glass. Then, ever so subtly, I noticed the light wasn’t shining through as brilliantly as it had just moments before. “It’s only a passing cloud Kim. No need to start getting yourself all spooked,” I reassured myself. “Just a big passing, autumn cloud.” But there hadn’t been any clouds in the sky just a moment ago, had there? “Just a cloud Kim. Nothing but a cloud.” I said to myself, feeling more confident this time. I smirked at the thought of myself getting all spooked over nothing.

  It was the sound of rustling leaves that shattered my confidence. Rustling leaves and the sound of footsteps approaching my window. A cloud couldn’t make that sound, now could it? Hesitantly, I began to turn my head towards the frosted glass window. My head was moving so slowly, I was sure I could hear my neck creaking like an old wooden door. When my eyes finally fell upon the window, I could make out the outline of a tall man. His lanky figure was accentuated by the backlighting of the moon. He stood there like a statue, cold and stoic, with fewer than 10 feet between us. I heard the rustling again and tried to steady myself as, through my opaque shield, I could see him closing the gap between us. As statue-esque as he’d been just moments before, his strides were long and graceful now. He moved with ease and, though I could hear the crunching of leaves as he approached, he seemed to be floating.

  I felt myself wanting to back away but my body simply wouldn’t let me. “Don’t move a muscle Kim. He might ignore you if you can only manage to stay still.” I said this to myself as if I wasn’t already aware that he could see me thought the frosted glass, if only in distorted shapes. The figure had made it to within a few feet of my window now and I could see it examining me through the glass, it’s head tilting in childlike curiosity. Now I was the one as still as a statue, frozen in fear. With every ounce of will I could muster, I managed to reach behind me and move the shower curtain aside. Though I was sure no man as tall as he was could make his way through the 2 inch opening at the top of the window, I would lock the door to the bathroom from the outside, just to be sure. With the curtain out of the way, the lights from the bathroom were now illuminating his features. Though distorted through the glass, I could make out stringy hair framing his face. I could hear a popping and cracking sound as its willowy chin moved from one side to another, as though adjusting its jaw. His head was tilting back and forth now and I was positive he had a better view of me that I of him. I grimaced and covered myself up.

  Then I noticed the large dark circles around his eyes. My God it looked as though he hadn’t slept in ages. The man seemed to be so tired the dark circles around his eyes drooped down onto his cheeks. Could this be some bum wandering through back yards, hoping to steal some food from an unlocked house? Or could he be looking for more than just a meal? God his eyes… his eyes seemed wrong. How I wished I could just run out of here but his eyes had cemented me in place. The dark bags around them seemed to grow bigger, taking up half his face. They just seemed wrong, unnatural. Oh God. Those were his eyes. Just as his eyes had grown to cover his face, I saw the dark circles disappear as he blinked, the pale face becoming featureless only for the great big circles to reappear again and stare at me. Over the sound of the shower, the water still beating down on the porcelain, I could hear the horrible sound of him breathing. He sounded sickly, his breath shaking as he inhaled. His exhale sounded just as labored, the air whistling as it exited his lungs. I finally managed to take a few steps out of the tub when I let out a deafening scream.

  I’d been startled when the figure slammed his hands against my window. “Go away!”, I screamed, this time my voice not just in my head. “Go away! My husband will be home any minute!” I was lying. “He’ll be home any minute and he carries a shotgun with him in his truck!” Another lie. I just wanted to scare him off, to get him to back away and run back into the woods or wherever it was he’d come from. I was crouched down on the floor now, hiding behind the tub. As I reached in to turn the water off, I glanced up at the hand that had slammed against the window. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I saw a hand nearly the size of my head pressed firmly against the window. A pale shriveled palm adorned with 3 long slim fingers was groping at the glass, almost as though it was trying to grab at it. Almost as though it was trying to grab at me! What the hell was this thing? Where had it come from? I could see what looked like a mouth on the end of each finger. Each one was opening and closing as you’d imagine a leeches mouth to do when it grabs hold of your skin. “I swear to God my husband will kill you when he gets home! Leave me alone! Just leave, Please!” My voice was becoming horse from screaming. I was still crouched on the floor of the bathroom when it now pressed its face against the glass, the big black eyes staring in and blinking, its jaw moving from side to side.

  With nothing between its sickly skin and the glass, I could make out the nightmarish features even clearer now. One feature in particular made me wish I could somehow tear my eyes away. As it adjusted its jaw from side to side, I could see what look like lips folding back. Snarling. They revealed a set of teeth who’s size was only rivaled by those big black eyes. A regular set of teeth this size would have been disturbing, but this thing had a mouth as inhuman as its hands. It had rows of teeth, overlapping one another. But they weren’t sharp, not like a sharks teeth. They looked almost human, though this thing was far from it. They were big and yellowed, flat at the bottom which made them look more like cleavers than serrated knives. The further it’s lips drew back, the more rows were exposed, and just then it began making an awful sound. It was like a tree full of cicadas. The teeth began to chitter, crashing into one another violently enough to be heard. Every now and then it would take a sickly breath in and start chittering its teeth together again, sometimes they’d even click against the glass. All at once, it stopped. It was motionless. It took another deep breath and its attention seemed to be drawn upwards above its head. It looked at the opening at the top of the window and its hand, with its long leech like fingers, began making it’s way through.

  It’s fingers were wrapped in a thin, slimy skin. It was thin enough to make out purple and red veins running the length of its appendage. The leach like mouths at the tip of its fingers opened and closed as though begging for food. Each one was lined with needle like teeth, much different from the ones in it’s mouth. There was a sickly yellow puss oozing from each fingertip and a foul stench beginning to fill the room, something like a corpse left to decay in a hot room. I gagged as the smell grew fiercer. The chittering started up again and I could hear the beast’s sickly breathing, but there was a different tone to it this time. It was more like the sound of a rabid dog who got a hold of a scent it was quite enjoying. The breathing was accompanied by a slurping sound, like it was trying to keep from drooling all over itself.

  I don’t know if it was the fear finally mounting and pushing me or if it was the smell making me nauseous enough I could feel myself swallowing vomit back down my throat, but I jumped to my feet and slammed the window shut, managing to just miss the leach like fingers reaching for me. The beast let out an unnatural shriek, a strange combination of a howl and the shrill cry of a banshee as if coming from two different creatures. Its hand flailed around in pain while I backed up, the figure still howling from behind the window. I began backing up, not even bothering to grab a towel, I had far more to worry about. As my hand grasped the doorknob, the figure began to bash its face against the window. It battered the window again and again, cracks forming in the thick frosted glass. Should this thing break into my home, would anyone come to help me? With the beast shrieking like a wild animal caught in a trap, someone had to have heard it, right?

  I turned to run and heard a crash of shattering glass behind me. As I ran through the hall leading to my bedroom, I could hear glass crunching under its feet. The chittering started again, the sick, ragged breathing, the slurping noise. My wet feet fought for grip against the cold hard tiles, slapping with each step. I made it to my room, slammed the door behind me and hid between my wall and bed. I could hear heavy footsteps approaching, the ragged breathing and cicada’s chittering. I grabbed my pillow from the bed as I sat against the wall, my heart beating in my ears. It was all I could hear. The silence was all I could hear. With my face buried in my pillow, I realized I could no longer hear the breathing, or the footsteps. Was it right outside, simply toying with me or had it gone? Would it try to sneak in through the windows which sit just above my head? As I turned to look out the window, I was half expecting to see that face staring back at me, clearer this time.

  The sound of the rattling door knob shot through the dark and silent room like a shot gun blast. It wasn’t about to let me leave this room. I screamed, hands and face digging deeper into the pillow. The figure threw its body against the door, each thud ringing louder than the last. I could feel my tears and spit soaking into the pillow case, but I couldn’t tear my face out of it. In that moment, it was like a shield to me, and I wasn’t letting go but my heart stopped within the next second. Two cold hands grabbed at me, digging into my shoulders. They shook me violently back and forth, and through my screams, I could hear a familiar voice.    

“Kim! Kim relax! Kim, God damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?” It was trying to fool me! I refused to open my eyes.    

“Kim, please, calm down. You need to stop screaming. What happened to the window?” It couldn’t be Scott, It couldn’t be! But as the hands brought me closer to the voice, I could finally make out my husband’s face through my waterlogged eyes. That thing couldn’t have been Scott- the body, the hands – they didn’t match up. It hadn’t been him. But how could I attempt to explain anything to him… How could I explain it to myself?

  Attempting to gather my thoughts, I felt the words get lodged in my throat. The look in Scott’s eyes told me it hadn’t been him and he wasn’t just playing dumb. No level of special effects prowess could bring that nightmare to life.

“Scott… there was… I was in the shower… It was through the window… The sound was…”

  I looked up. I was frozen in place. The chittering, that disgusting chorus of bugs filled the room. My eyes locked on Scott’s, I could just make out a figure crawling on the ceiling above him. With a beastly shriek, the figure dropped down. My head slammed into the wall behind me and my vision grew blurry. Scott’s screams were the last thing I heard before everything went black.

November 3rd , Fox Hills, NY-

   A Fox Hills woman is being questioned by authorities in the suspected butchering of her husband on Halloween night.  Kimberly Allen, 28, was found naked and laying in a pool of her husband Scott Allen’s blood. Mr. Allen, 30, was found dismembered from what looked to be repeated blows from a cleaver, which is yet to be recovered. Mrs. Allen was found unconscious from what is suspected to be a self-inflicted blow to the head, a blow authorities suspect she carried out to help support her story of an intruder. First responders made it to the scene after a concerned neighbor called in what they suspected to be a domestic dispute. The caller, who wishes to remain anonymous, say they called the Fox Hill’s Sherrif’s Department after hearing Mrs. Allen’s screams and what sounded like shattering glass. They did say Scott could be heard yelling shortly after, but exactly what was said is unclear. Mrs. Allen is sticking to her claim that there was no such dispute and Mr. Allen was attacked by an intruder, the true culprit of the attacks on her and her husband, and has in fact asked for higher security outside of her cell. No foreign finger or foot prints have been found at the scene and no other arrests have been made.

  They’ve moved me to the Fox Hills Psychiatric Center. As I sit here now, crying through interrogation after interrogation, all I can do is wonder why. Why didn’t it take me? Was it the sirens? Did the first responders scare it off somehow? I don’t know if anyone will ever believe me. Despite his jokes and cruel pranks, my Scott was a good man. The figure though, that otherworldly abomination, is still out there and I would be foolish to think it won’t find me again somehow. I got lucky that night, as sick as that sounds, but next time, that may not be the case. Next time there may not be sirens or concerned neighbors to scare it off. Thankfully, the authorities have taken my one request seriously. Just this morning, they added another guard outside the door of my room, and two guards just outside the frosted glass window that sits above my bed.      

[diningpageantry]

You Look Better in Person

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43275707

Chapter 8/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3030

Chapter Summary: Simon and Baz's first encounter leaves them both awestruck.

BAZ

It’s a bloody pain in my ass, headache of a drive. I barely got halfway through before turning off my music and just focusing on what I’d say--how I’d react. It isn’t just getting Snow, it’s seeing him. An experience that’s completely new to the both of us. Somehow, despite him saying he’s the scared one, I find myself being absolutely petrified. I (only slightly) doubt he’ll reject my offer of help, especially since I'm driving up the country to get him, but I do suspect him to be hesitant of me nonetheless.

Oddly enough, I feel none of that fear towards him. No matter what, I’ll be there for him. I’m not quite sure what to expect, though. Fuck if any expectations I have for him matters, really.

I’d thought too much over the drive. Frankly, I think too much overall. That, I need to stop.

Staring at my phone mindlessly truly proves it, given I don’t have half a brain cell to coherently read the maps as they show me around the city. Eventually, though (through trial and error), I find myself going down the same street twice, trying to spot a local park that's apparently down the road. Google Maps yells at me, telling me I’m rapidly approaching my destination (over and over, between each condescending “Recalculation”).

My heart pounds faster with each rotation of my wheels, making my vision all fuzzy and warped. Exhaling slowly, I peer around and spot someone lying on a bench in the centre of the park, dressed up in a hoodie, sweats, and trainers. They seem to be hugging a duffel bag close, as if everything that's left is inside of it. I can’t quite make much out of them, with to their hood being pulled tight around their face and all, but I can tell that they’re alone.

Once parked, I shoot Simon a quick text, trying to swallow back my fear of what's probably true. That it is him.

i’m in the black volvo in the lot

Suddenly, the head of the person shoots up, then starts looking around as their body rises. I still can’t see their face, shadowed down by the harsh lamp lights, but they seem to be facing me.

That… must be him.

He pulls himself to standing, a slight hunch in his shoulders as he hauls the bag over his left one. He’s broad, and a solid height, too. When the light catches the few hairs spilling from his hood, they shine a deep copper.

Each of his steps feel like a lifetime. Exhausted, heavy stomps of his feet onto the ground as he brings himself closer until he stands barely a yard away from the car. Shamelessly, I stare out the window, wide eyed and barely choking out a breath.

He’s absolutely, unbelievably handsome. Square jawed, curly haired, and blue, blue eyes. He’s got a near rugby build, and a tired, barely existent smile pressing his freckled and moled cheeks into creases. He is, without a doubt, one of the most the most gorgeous humans I’ve ever seen.

His hand rises up shakily, nearly forming a wave as he struggles to keep a face in a readable expression other than wordless, overworked sadness.

My hand slides down my door, finding the lock without me looking and flicking the doors unlocked with a clear click. I watch as he hesitates at first, looking between me and the car a few times. The fluorescent lights flicker as he swallows, neck bobbing along.

Eventually, he relents and slips into the passenger seat without taking his eyes off me once.

At first, we just stare. Silent, carefully timed breaths fill the car as we just look over one another. I must look tired; I feel tired. He looks it, too.

I cut off my own words before I speak. I know he is tired. I don’t even need to ask.

The bag pressed to his chest loosens slightly, slumping down onto his lap as he swallows again. I can’t stop myself from watching him, heart thumping. It’s unreal--he must be unreal.

“Hey,” he whispers, the same shock I’m wearing mirrored onto his face.

SIMON

He’s so beautiful that I can barely think of words. Of all things I could say, of all things I should say, none of them weasel out other than “Hey”.

Granted, I have nothing better to say, given I’d probably be stupid and call him every word I’m thinking of.

I’ve never quite met a bloke who’s as pretty as he is. Slate eyes, brown skin, and ink black hair that starts at a widow’s peak, falling onto his shoulders in the slightest of waves. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he seems alert and a bit shaken, a hand gripping the shifting stick that’s resting clearly on “P”.

I can’t quite think of anything else to vocalize. I’ve cried too much tonight, and it’s really fucking late. I need to rest… I just want…

“Why were you at the park?” He asks, suddenly dropping my gaze. It’s fine, though--my eyes drift back down to his narrow, bony hands, gliding movements over the shift. He pushes it into “R”, pulling the car out of the spot before turning, flicking to “D”, and going. His hands are like the pictures. It’s relaxing.

“Hm? O-oh,” I say quietly, fiddling with the strap of my bag. With a glance from him towards my buckle, I realize I missed a step. Fuck. I click myself in, continuing, “I’d told Davy I-I was going to Penn’s all weekend f-for a school project after our fight, b-b-but I told Penn I was gr-grounded.”

“So…”

“So I’m stuck,” I add, gaze shifting out the window and staying there. “Nowhere to go.”

He’s silent for a second, the only sound filling the air being the popping of rocks under the tyres. Once down the street, and another street, and then another, he finally says something.

“I’ve got somewhere,” he finally starts. When I look at him, he’s avoidant--eyes unwaveringly ahead, and hands gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles are pulled taunt. “It’s a bit far, though. You can nap, if you want. It’ll be some time.”

“Where..?”

“You’ll see when we’re there.” And with that, he’s silent again. Given the flatness of his answer, I don’t feel it proper to argue. Really, I can’t argue at all with the prospect of a rest.

So, I take it. I suppose I’m asleep for a few good hours before I’m jostled awake by the overwhelming, perpetually buzzing lights of a petrol station. It's still dark out.

I peer out to see Baz standing, glancing over his shoulder at the machine as his hands hold the pump. Instinctively, I pull my hoodie closer, finally getting a good look at him in some sort of full light.

Shit. He even looks good at the pump.

He catches my eyes briefly, staring back before quickly turning back away, and acting as if I don’t see him swallow sharply. I act like I didn’t see it either, especially not as he sits back in the car and looks towards me, but not directly at me. “Hungry?”

Always. “A bit.”

He wordlessly pulls up to the store of the station before turning back off the car. “Come on, I’ll cover you.”

Given I only have the little cash I had in my sock drawer on me, I don’t argue. Instead, I step out and follow him, glancing up once I'm entirely trailing behind him. He’s got a few good inches on me, which, frankly, makes me blush a good bit. Who gave him the right to be practically a supermodel?

“Get anything,” he says, and I do. Two bags of crisps, a bottle of chocolate milk, and a shitty, wrapped cinnamon roll. He just grabs a coffee, pouring an egregious amount of sugar and creamer into it before going up to pay. He doesn’t even flinch--just pays.

It feels odd. Looks odd. It’s like Aggie paying--a disregard of wealth beyond a comprehensive point.

Back in the car, he sips his drink, cringes, and waits until I’m buckled back in before going.

I’m up this time, and probably for the long run, as he starts driving again.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, twisting the cap off the milk and hearing the satisfying snap of the breaking seal. “I feel like I should allowed to know eventually.”

“London,” he responds borderline robotically, not bothering a look at me.

“Wait, fuck. London? Isn’t that--”

“Six hours, yes. You’ve slept for well over half the trip, don’t worry.” He risks a quick glance at me, and as if it were magic, I see him relax. His muscles drop the tension, and his seemingly permanent frown loosens to a genuine flash of concern. Then, as quickly as his composure went, it comes back. Like it was a flicker in his system. “Just rest.”

“How are you staying up?”

“Will power.”

I don’t stop the snort slipping out, biting my lip. “You really are a vampire, huh?”

His face relaxes back slightly, spreading into the smallest of smiles. “No, but that’d be more fun.”

I huff in agreement, letting myself grin along this time. “It would be, yeah.”

We fall silent again, but this time it’s a bit better. It’s an odd reminder that this, this Baz right in front of me, is the same one I’ve known for months. It’s just his flesh and blood--living and breathing body. A human.

I want to reach out and touch him, to see if he’s real. I nearly do so, but my mind stops me before my hand grips his. I think he catches sight of my reach, though, because the arm closest to me drops from the wheel, resting palm-up on the centre console.

Either it’s an invitation or a mistake. Both are something I’m dumb enough to work with.

My fingertips skate over his wrist first, glazing over the ridges where his veins sit. They ridge up, rising above the rest of his smooth arm and pumping below my touch. At first, he begins to retract before stopping himself and staying, opened up to me. A careful fingertip moves to trace the lines of his palm, my breath barely under control. He lets me have my time, and slowly yet surely, I settle my hand on top of his, fingers shifting until they’re locked between his.

His hand curls up first, holding tightly to mine, When I look at him, he’s lightly sucking on his lip, keeping his eyes trained forward as his thumb slowly slides over my hand.

If it wasn’t for the weight of the day, I might’ve started crying again. Instead, I find myself staring. I settle my head back onto the comfortable, leather headrest, eyes falling softly onto the sharp edges of his face. I trace them, thankful for each passing car of street light that illuminates the cabin just enough to let me see the details.

His eyes look puffy and dark, dark eyelashes falling onto his skin. His nose sits a bit high, and his brow seems aristocratic. His lips, at a natural downcurve, hang open in the slightest and look a bit shiny when he stops biting them.

He doesn’t put any attention onto me, but holds my hand against his comfortably, keeping the slow drag of his skin against mine. It isn't rough, like mine is, except for at his pads. They're calloused right at the tips.

I space out, watching him attentively until countryside fades into bright city lights, mixing with the creeping sun.

He pulls up into a lot, telling them the apartment number before the car climbs up into a space. Once parked, he lets go of my palm with a sorry look, glancing over me once before stepping out.

He doesn’t let me carry my bag, holding both his and mine in each arm. The walk is brief, and within minutes, he’s pushing a key into a small, comfortable London flat, letting me inside first.

The lights are all shut, and it's got the distinct layer of light dust to show it's been untouched for months. He confirms my sneaking suspicion even before I get to ask it.

“It's my aunt's,” he says away from me, settling my bag onto a chair and his on an adjacent one. “She travels in the winter to somewhere warmer, and leaves me a key to get away.”

“I know. I've followed you long enough, you know.” I'd smile if my cheeks weren't too weak to hold one.

After stealing a look at his blushing face, I drag myself to the bed, running a hand over the sheet slowly. The other side dips with Baz's weight as he settles down onto the edge, staring at the pulling sheets with his hand settling so close to mine.

I must be mad, because I reconnect my fingers with his on impulse.

At first, we're still. I'm standing, and he's sitting. We're statues, dimly lit by the outside life. He must not be brave, or maybe I just might be more stupid, because I'm the first to move. My fingers weave between his, hand pressing closer towards him as we remain in an odd silence.

I wish I knew what I was doing.

Even without a full mind, I know what feels right, and it's being as close to Baz as possible. So maybe I don't need to know exactly what I'm doing, I just need to know that it's good.

BAZ

I wish I knew what he was doing.

I know what I want. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. I want us to bathe in the rising sun and forget everything else in the world.

I want his hood off, and I want my fingers in his hair.

I want it so bad that I stop thinking and I do it, reaching my hand out and slowly dragging the cotton-y cloth off. Out springs his hair, clearly darker in the faint lights, but sticking up and unruly. My hand hesitates, fingers hovering above his scalp before I feel his head tilt and rest against my palm.

It's thick. Unbrushed. Uses shit shampoo and probably rarely conditions.

Nonetheless, it's fantastic. I can barely explain feeling of just carding my fingers through it.

Simon's eyes fall only my face, dancing around before falling back shut. I can feel the rise and fall of his body with a heavy breath, making my heart nearly stop.

“Is this okay?” whisper, holding his head carefully. His curls bob with his nod, eyes still settled shut. “How… about sleeping?”

“What about it?”

“There's one bed, and a couch. I can sleep on the couch…”

He shakes his head, keeping against me. “‘M not shy,” he whispers as an odd invitation to share.

I'm definitely not the one to turn it down.

“Neither am I,” I whisper back, hand squeezing his. He just looks towards out touching skin, biting his lip while letting go to unlace his trainers. I take the hint to unlace my own shoes, settling them aside before tugging at the blankets. He shifts, allowing me to turn them down and slip inside. He doesn't follow, lying above the blanket.

“Aren't you cold?” I murmur, turning to my side. He mirrors, propping himself on his elbow.

“Rarely.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, heavy eyes falling back shut.

I want to prove it for myself.

My hand reaches out, fingertips settling hesitantly onto his cheek. Surely enough, his it’s well warm under mine.

His lashes are short, but a gentle contrast against his skin as they flutter back open. They lay on my hand, then my own eyes, lip sucking into his mouth as he bites it. He's dead silent as he extends his hand, meeting my cheek with his palm.

“You're freezing,” he lets out, nose wrinkling. His hand doesn't move away.

“Always am.”

“Damn, I'm sorry.”

Helplessly, my face falls into an open smile, shamelessly relaxing. “It's fine. It's just… how it is.”

His eyes rest back on mine, staying there as his fingers flatten down. Eventually, I feel his thumb rub back and forth against my skin, hand cupping me gently. Like I'm some prized possession of his.

“Is it cold in here? Does it bother you?” His hand moves up and slips into my hair, pushing it back with a slow drag. I feel my heart flutter, mouth parting open as I sink into the feeling.

“No,” I finally respond. There's so much to be said, but it feels like we're tiptoeing around it. A slow, languishing fight for affection from one another, and I don't quite know who's winning. “I'm rather comfortable.”

His head nods, my gentle grip falling out of his hair and settling onto his back. At a snail's pace, his hand slowly untangles from my hair and falls back to my face. As if I'd willed it to, his fingers rest onto my lips.

I risk a quick peck onto them, watching his cheeks flush at the motion. Yet, still, he's silent, keeping his fingers still.

I don't want to stop. I don't want to shut my eyes and rest, but as every second creeps on, so does my exhaustion. It isn't until my eyelids finally fall shut that I feel him scoot closer, arm draping around me.

He smells like cheap soap and chocolate milk. I wish I could smell him forever.

“You smell like cigarettes,” he tells me. His words burn like the guilt in my throat, still rough from the two I'd smoked earlier..

“Don't worry about it.”

A beat. Then, “I worry about you anyway.”

I don't know how to swallow that one.

Instead, I just keep my eyes shut, holding his still-linked hand tighter. “Don't worry about it now. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

He must be right in front of me. I can feel it--his slow exhale near my face. It's warm, and his forehead touches mine as he lowers it for a nod. “Sleep tight, Baz.”

[fieldsvolvonorthfield]

Used Volkswagen Jetta Sedan Northfield IL 60093

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You can expect a lot from the 2013 Volkswagen Jetta. This 4 door, 5 passenger sedan has not yet reached the 50,000 mile mark! Under the hood you'll find a 5 cylinder engine with more than 170 horsepower, and for added security, dynamic Stability Control supplements the drivetrain. Volkswagen infused the interior with top shelf amenities, such as: front and rear reading lights, a leather steering wheel, front fog lights, turn signal indicator mirrors, power windows, cruise control, and power front seats. For drivers who enjoy the natural environment, a power moon roof allows an infusion of fresh air. Side curtain airbags deploy in extreme circumstances, shielding you and your passengers from collision forces. It also arrives with a Carfax history report, indicating just one previous owner. We pride ourselves on providing excellent customer service. Please don't hesitate to give us a call.

via Fields Volvo Cars Northfield http://bit.ly/2SOrZq4

[theconnectingrod-blog]

1988 Honda Prelude Si

Before we get stared I have to thank my buddy Rick Ruiz for being so enthusiastic about this project of mine, he jumped at the opportunity to help and was more than happy to have his Prelude be the first car featured. 

The prelude has always been an interesting car to me, not the car itself but more rather where it fit into Honda’s lineup. Honda had the Civic, Crx, Prelude, Accord, and Integra, all Front wheel drive, all had 4 cylinder engines, all of them had a two door variation. So why did Honda feel the need to produce this 2 door sport coupe if the CRX and the Civic were currently being sold? My guess is going for a traditional coupe style, the 2-door Civic and CRX came in hatches, and in the states hot-hatch culture was still in its infancy, so perhaps hatches weren’t appealing to the masses. Although, then I become confused, at the same time Honda was also selling the Accord, which came in more configurations, coupe, hatch, and sedan, the mid trim levels came with the same engine as the Prelude, and the coupes had extremely similar styling. So why would anyone buy a Prelude, when you could get an Accord with the same performance, more practicality, and more features? Simply put; marketing, the Accord was marketed as Honda’s mid-size family car with all the bells and whistles that you deserved, while the Prelude from its inception was marketed as a sports car, and oh what a sports car it was. At the time, Honda hadn’t revealed the NSX yet, so the prelude was the most powerful and most advanced car they had on offer. (Unless you opted for the base model which had a sad carbureted SOHC B20.) Under the hood of this Prelude sits a B20A5, a DOHC 2.0L 4 cylinder making 135 hp which was Honda’s biggest engine at the time. If you ever google search a third generation Prelude, one of the first things you’re bound to see is “1988 Prelude Si 4ws” 4ws, you’ll see it everywhere, 4ws is the Prelude’s most notable feature, a four wheel steering system, being the first ever in a mass produced passenger car. Four wheel steering systems were seen as the future in passenger cars in the 80s, but never quiet took off due to them being expensive, heavy, and their improvements subtle. They haven’t completely faded from existence though, up until 2005 GM tried using it on a few of their pickups and SUVs and currently BMW and Renault seem to be trying to reintroduce it. (Heres a link to an Autoweek article if you’d to know more about four wheel steering systems and how they work http://autoweek.com/article/car-life/four-wheel-steering-demystified ). The true advantages of a four wheel steering system were mostly felt at a track, were it would give you greatly increased maneuverability at high speeds, the biggest advantage most owners would feel is a smaller turning circle at low speeds, saved tons of people from doing 3-point turns I bet. While the handling advantages were seen as subtle, they were felt when in 1987 a Prelude with four wheel steering beat out true sports cars like the Corvette C4 in Road & Tracks slalom test. The 4ws wasn’t all sunshine and roses, it added a massive 500 pounds to the curb weight of the car, substantially impacting acceleration. I’ve been droning on about this four wheel steering system for long enough, sure its interesting but this Prelude doesn’t even have it. Why not? Well because the 4ws models were damn expensive, $17,945 MSRP, that is roughly $40,600 today, compare a Prelude to what you can buy today with forty thousand dollars and maybe it’ll be more clear why not everyone opted for the 4ws.

What about the styling? Well, at a quick glance, you can clearly tell its a late 80s Honda, might have to quint or look at a badge to tell if its a Prelude, Integra, or an Accord, but you at least know its one of those 3. Seriously google all those from 1988 and take a look, what was Honda thinking making them all look so incredibly similar? I know nowadays car companies give all their models the same basic grill or front end, but at least you can easily tell the difference between a Charger and a Dart. But back to the Prelude, look at its side profile, its body line, the top of the fender lines up perfectly with the bottom of the windows, and then the rear window curves up and gently tosses your eye along the trunk line. Its gorgeous and simplistic, none of the lines dart away in jagged directions to try and create a body line that isn’t there. The rub strip goes around the entire car, from wheel to wheel, bumper to bumper, and even on the wheel arches, because you’re gonna use this car, and you need that rub strip to protect all 360 degrees of you from shopping carts. Side note while we’re on the topic of shopping carts, holy hell the trunk space in this car is surprisingly massive. I wasn’t able to get a picture that properly captured how large the space was, but looking at it from the outside, the truck is about as deep as the rub strip on the bumper and goes all the way to the rear seats, it huge, bigger than you would expect. 

Another surprise of the trunk is actually the trunk lid itself. The trunk lid and quarterpanels are molded to create a very subtle lip on the trunk of the car. That feature alone does more to promote this cars sportiness than fake vents or aggressive lines ever could. Although speaking of vents, this car does have a pair and for awhile they puzzled me quiet a bit, both from a aesthetic and function point of view. You see the Prelude has these funny little vents or channels on both rear tail lights, they appear to have some depth to them so I’m gonna go ahead and assume they serve some function, and my best guess is for cabin air circulation. 

I could be 110% wrong but that is my best guess and I couldn’t find anything specifically related to them online that told me otherwise. The Prelude’s exterior has one more very interesting quirk/feature. Look at the hood and you’ll notice a piece of plastic, that looks very similar to the rub strips circling the car, laying horizontally a couple inches from the windshield. Yeah, that is a built in bug/wind deflector, in my mind one of the coolest features of the Prelude, sure it was marketed as a sports car but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some utilitarian features as well. The last thing to talk about on the exterior of this car is the wheels, everything about them screams 80s and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that these were actually super rare Mazda Rx-7 wheels. Having a triangle design like that makes me think of a rotary more than anything.

Moving on to the interior. The interior has a nice balance of sports car styling and utilitarian features. The dash board, the center console, and the door panels all sweep forward giving that cockpit feeling seen in more aggressive cars like the Supra. But it counters that by having a large tray in the dash spanning from the glove box to gauge pod, allowing for lots space to set down any loose items.  It has a pod around the gauge cluster with lots of buttons on it similar to whats seen in cars like RX-7 and 300ZX. A humorous feature to me is the seat belt warning light mounted on the ceiling above the rear view mirror. I believe Saabs or Volvos have a similar feature, acting like a “fasten lap belt” light that you would see in an airplane. I find it hilarious to have that in this two door sports car where chances of you always having a full cabin were slim, but Honda gave it to you anyway so you’ll never have to tell your rear passengers to buckle up.

Perhaps this next part is nothing new to some people, but I personally have never come across a system like this before. The seat belts are 100% mounted on the door, not on the floor and the B pillar, not even on the seat, every part of the seat belt is in the door panel. Now when you first get in the car its different but you assume it serves the same purpose as ever other seat belt on every other car, until you try and open the door while you’re still buckled in and realize you can’t. Although even in the worst crash scenarios I can think of, a rescuer could still break the window and cut the seat belt, so I suppose it is not as big of a safety issue as I had first thought. Moving on to the seats, well, most notably they have a good amount of bolstering which was surprising to me given the cars age. There is even a little bit of bucket styling to these seats, its very mild but its there making driving this car quiet comfortable. So how is the drive? Well, quite good to put it simply. I got to drive this car the way most people who would end up owning one would, around tight neighborhood and small town streets. I didn’t drive it on a track, and I didn’t to take it on the highway to test how well that wind deflector worked. I stayed in the neighborhood around Rick’s house and timidly ventured onto one of main roads to get it up to about 50mph. I say timidly because I don’t know my way around Highland, Rick didn’t come with me, and my phone had died. So unfortunately my time driving was just as must spent trying to navigate as it was spent trying to get a feel for the Prelude. For being Honda’s biggest engine at the time, don’t expect to be blown away. Power is adequate, it gets the job done and certainly allows for some spirited driving when you want it. Its exactly what you expect, a nice balance of being fun enough for spirited driving, but practical enough for some great fuel economy. Of course being as it wasn’t my car and Rick wasn’t with me I didn’t want to floor it and be hard on the Prelude without Rick’s consent, although I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded.

Where this car really excels is its steering, not its handling, its steering. The steering is extremely light, you could steer it with your little finger, better yet, you could steer it by blowing on the steering wheel if you tried. Stopped, at low speed, at cruising speed, its incredibly easy to maneuver, there is zero resistance in the steering wheel. My best guess as to why its so light, is that it has a very power power steering pump, as well as light weight steering components to compensate for the whopping 500lbs added by the optional four wheel steering.

The third generation Prelude is a great car, a fantastic car, its appealing, fun, simplistic, and practical. These cars are turning 30 years old, they’re slowly fading from the streets, normal buyers have no faith in a 3 decade old Honda sport coupe. If you find one, buy it, save it, enjoy this piece automotive history, and preserve it. In a few short years they’ll be 40, and the prices will rise as they appeal to enthusiast, collectors, and people who enjoy weird 80s tech. Rick is a lucky man to have found this car in such great shape, where we can admire it very close to as it looked new.

1988 Honda Prelude in Barbados Yellow - Simply good looking.

Sources:

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honda_Prelude

Cargurus: https://www.cargurus.com/Cars/1988-Honda-Prelude-Overview-c3876

[seljepw]

Over the Hills and Far Away- Episode 8

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm late with this installment, guys.  It's almost twice as long as the others, and I had some issues getting the smut just right... Hopefully it will be worth the wait!!

The Road so Far: The reader- who Bobby adopted at 6 years old- is half Faerie.  She was bred for the sole purpose of being the traditional Tithe to Hell- the deal that lets faeries keep their immortality.  Now, her destiny has caught up with her, and she, Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Sarah (Remember her?  From season one?) are trapped in a pocket dimension of Faerie land, and Hell is on it's way when the sun sets.  Also, because metaphysical loopholes, Dean is bound to join Y/N in Hell, and everyone else is stuck in Faerie forevermore.

Word Count: 2,400ish 

Warnings: THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER.  Be prepared for strong language, unprotected sex (you know this is pretend, right?), and lots and lots of angst.  (You guys might be going to Hell, ok?  There's some feelings about that...)

Then:

“Ok,” she said, looking around the shack, “we need something to use as paint.  Devil’s trap on the floor, sigils on the windows.  We are going dark until this shit blows over.”

“Blows over?” Sam looked at her, incredulous.  “Sarah, we’re stuck in an alternate dimension, waiting for the freaking King of Hell to come and drag away our sister-in-law!  It’s not gonna just blow over!”

“Maybe not,” said Bobby, “but that don’t mean we just sit here twirlin’ on our thumbs.”  He had cut his own arm, and was already using his blood to draw a warding sigil on the window over the sink.

Now: 

By the time the sun had risen, you were sitting at the table with Sam and Sarah.  Bobby was passed out on the narrow bed, and Dean was snoring lightly from the one cushioned chair in the shack.  His face looked sallow next to the tattered orange corduroy of the chair’s upholstery.  He had long ago learned the soldier’s trick of sleeping when you can, where you can.  Unfortunately, that skill eluded you at the moment.  So, you let out a deep sigh and reviewed your fortifications once more.

Standard devil’s trap in both doorways.  Warding sigils- in a combination of blood, paint, duct tape, and deep gashes in the wood- plastered across any vertical surface.  Sam’s Volvo was now parked like a barricade in front of the shack, and the other two cars were playing sentry in the flower-packed field behind your tiny fortress.  You each had at least two weapons on hand (the silver knife at your back had been joined by Bobby’s revolver, stashed in your boot).  The rest of your small arsenal was arranged on the table, gleaming in the gathering dawn.  

It was damn handy to have such a paranoid bastard for an adopted father.  Even in a made-up universe, Bobby wouldn’t be Bobby without a rainy-day stash of deadlies.  Along with your new boot accessory, he had produced not just the Colt, but the demon knife and a sawed-off shotgun from his trunk.  The handful of knives from the earlier houses rounded out the collection.  Still, it was a depressingly small armory.  And you had no way of knowing what you would have to face.  Would Crowley come alone, or with an army?  Would he be open to negotiating, or would he just sic a pack of hellhounds on you and call it a day?  The thoughts chased each other around in your mind, as they had done for the past several hours.  You were getting dizzy and exhausted.  

Sam and Sarah had been pouring over the little blue Faerie book, taking notes and discussing possible modes of defence for the past three hours.  The first time Sam looked up was when you growled impatiently and shoved yourself out of your chair.  

“Y/N.  Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed at you.  

Dean gasped and came fully awake at the sound.  Soldier sleep only lasts as long as it can, then it’s back to consciousness all at once.  His fist was closing around the machete in his lap before he had even exhaled. “Whashapenin’?” he huffed.  “Crowley?”

“No.  Sorry I woke you.  I just can’t stand being cooped up here anymore,” you said as you paced around the tiny room.  Your hands raked through your hair and your shoulders wouldn’t stay still.

Bobby sat up and gave you his ‘worried daddy’ look.  It was half reservation, half resignation.  He knew you never did well being cloistered for long.  You needed open sky and fresh air.  So, being the good dad he was, he tilted his head to the back door.  

“Go on, princess.  But don’t you dare leave that field, and if anything happens, you holler at the top of your lungs, and we’ll come runnin’.”

Dean moved across the tiny room, assuming that he would be joining you on your walkabout, but you placed your hand firmly on his chest.

“No, Love.  I just need to be by myself for a bit.  Give me a few minutes, ok?”

In the dawn light, his eyes looked like peridot.  It’s funny the things you notice when you’re getting ready to die, you thought.  Those gold-green eyes searched yours for a long moment.  He must have found what he was looking for, because he simply cupped your face in his hands, pressed a kiss between your brows and said, “Ok, Hermione.  You do what you gotta.  I’ll come out to check on you in a few.”

You walked out of the back door, leaving the silence of concerned people behind you.  Bobby didn’t even insist that you take a coat.  

You walked a slow circuit around the edges of the field, collecting a few flowers and brushing away the curious bees.  The sun was beating down, but the breeze that played across your bare arms and shoulders kept it from being unbearably hot.  You let your head fall back, and lifted your face to the sunshine.  It was amazing, this cage the Fae had built for you.  So detailed, so intricate.  And they saw it as a privilege- an immensely precious gift that they had given to a totally unworthy thing.  You found it insulting.  If there was one thing you had learned in your life as a hunter, it was the value of truth.  This place was one huge, condescending lie.  

As you reached the shack again, you smiled despite yourself.  Dean was lounging on the Impala’s hood, his fingers laced across his chest and his head resting back on the windshield, watching your slow progress.  Neither of you spoke as you climbed up and settled your body next to his, as you had been doing for years.  You both stared up at the fake clouds drifting across the fake sky.

He had popped one of his well-worn cassettes into Baby’s stereo, and Bad Company crooned out of the open windows, wafting on the breeze.

“Life is like a carousel... you aim for heaven, and you wind up in hell… To all the world you're livin like a king... but you're just a puppet on a broken string…”

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed at the song.

Dean chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, settling your head into its accustomed place on his shoulder.  You watched the fake flowers shivering in the fake sunshine and revelled for a moment in the honest solidness of his cheekbone against your hair.

“Look, babe, if anyone knows what it’s like to be the freakin’ ‘Chosen One’- especially when you don’t have any choice in the matter- it’s Sammy and me.  And we’ve always managed to shake it.  This is no different.  I told you last night; no way in hell you’re- ya know- goin’ to Hell.”

“We,” you said dejectedly.  You’d been doing your best to keep from wallowing in your feelings.  But this was Dean.  You let the mask slip a little.  “You mean we’re going to hell.  I managed to fuck up enough to damn you, too.  And get the others stuck here.  It’s all my fault.”  A tight ball had formed in your throat, and if you let it, it would boil over into weeping.  

“Hey!” Dean levered both of you up into a seated position and turned to you, lacing his fingers through your hair.  He maneuvered your face close to his, so you had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.  “This is NOT your fault, you hear me?  I don’t wanna hear that defeatist ‘woe is me’ crap.  You didn’t do this.  You didn’t start this.  They’re trying to make you a victim, but you are way too strong for that.  Now, what do we do when some supernatural son of a bitch comes after us?”

You sighed resignedly, and blinked to keep the tears at bay.  “Kick it in the ass,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.  What do we do when something thinks it can tear us apart?”

This one came out a little more steady.  “Kick it in the ass.”

“Better, but I want it one more time.  Like you mean it.  Because we are not victims.  What do we do to every single threat that comes at us?”

You moved, then, swinging your leg over Dean’s hips and settling firmly into his lap.  You mirrored his grip on your hair with a grip on his, and around clenched teeth you snarled, “We kick it in the fucking ass!”

“That’s my girl!” Dean crowed, and caught your mouth in a blistering kiss.  

He wrapped his arms around your waist and crushed your body to his. You clawed at his back like you were trying to climb him.  With a firm grip on your ass, he hoisted your combined weight up off of Baby’s hood and into the wildflowers. You clung on and rode him down to the rich, black soil.  

You were like animals, at first.  Moaning and growling and trying to get as close as you could while still clothed.  The friction of your core against his was making you dizzy.  Your panties were soaked.  Please please please I neeeeed... was all you could think for a long time.  You writhed against each other, and you thought your pussy was going to wring itself out, you were so hot, but neither of you made a move to escalate it.  It was like you were waiting for something.

Bloodthirsty kisses and teenage rutting of denim against denim slowly melted away, and a fierce tenderness replaced it.  The scent of crushed plants engulfed you.  The tall, waving stalks of the flowers shielded you from sight.  You were in your own little world within your own little world.  

You and Dean had been hunting together-and together- for a few years.  Despite all the brave talk, all the unwillingness to accept defeat, the fact remained.  On a case, every fight could be the last fight.  And every fuck could be the last fuck.  You couldn’t take these moments for granted.  Now- with the threat of Hell bearing down on you both- this time together took on an even sharper clarity.

He loomed above you- broad shoulders blotting out your view of the sky, covering you in protective shadows, and you took a moment to trace the lines of his face; to swim in eyes made greener by the swaying foliage around you.  Just in case.  

The moment stretched.  Unexpectedly, your magic shimmered up inside you, like it was taking a deep breath.  Your mind seemed to float, as weightless as your bodies had been the other night- and you could see Dean’s love for you like a physical thing.  A second heart beating in his chest, gold and red and luminous.  You laid your hand over the spot and watched the light pulse around your fingers.  The beauty of it took your breath away.

“What?”  His voice was a low murmur, barely louder than the susurrus of flowers around you.

“You,” you whispered, blinking away a new incursion of tears, “you are so gorgeous and amazing and I love you so fucking much…”  The light in dean’s chest flared in a brilliant surge and when his lips met yours again, it was so overwhelmingly sweet that you couldn’t hold back your sobs anymore.  Salt tears mixed with the taste of Dean’s mouth, and he pressed his weight on you as though he was trying to hold your jagged pieces together.  Like he was trying to feed you with the inner light that he couldn’t see.  

After what seemed like the longest heartbeat on record, you released your magic, got control of your lungs again, and dropped your shaking fingers to his waistband.

“Dean,” you gasped around a throat sore with crying, “Please.  I need… I need…”

He understood.  Of course he did.  You both wrestled each other out of your clothes as best you could; Dean helped you yank his shirt over his head, but yours was trapped under your weight, so it stayed.  One leg of your jeans remained tangled around a booted foot.  Dean’s pants only made it halfway down his thighs, but it was enough.  

When he reached between you to slide a finger into your slick opening, you stopped him.

“I need you, Dean.  You.  Now.”  You gripped his shaft and gently guided him through your folds.  

“You got it, sweetheart,” he smiled.  Just a flash of the usual roguish Dean that disappeared when his eyes rolled up, closed, and squeezed shut, as he easily slid into you.  Your own eyes followed suit, and a groan climbed up the back of your throat.  Dean.

The weight of him on you and in you was an anchor.  A mooring line to your life- your real life.  Solid and safe and true.  He buried himself as deep as he could, and kept pushing, holding his pelvis hard against your core.  Your every muscle was shaking with the sensation- he was so present in your body.  Your inner walls fluttered around him and you were so overridden that you couldn’t open your eyes.  He was everywhere.  The solid wall of his flesh pressed against your clit in a maddening pressure/friction.  His back muscles flexed under your grasping hands.  His chest held yours trapped against the ground.  Rough fingertips smoothed your hair back, soft lips trailed kisses in a line down your forehead.  And that solid, delicious weight in your center… You realized you were grinding against him, whimpering his name over and over, nudging the tip of his cock into all your deepest sweet spots.  He just kept pressing into you, letting you swim in the feeling.  

“I got you… I got you, Y/N.  Take what you need, baby, I got you… Fuuuck, I love you...”  His voice rumbled in your ear and through your chest, sending a new shower of sparks through your nerves and a fresh flood to your pussy.

“Dean Dean DeanDeanDean...”   

“That’s it,” he murmured against your shoulder.  He was beginning to tremble with the effort of staying still.  “That’s it, baby.  I’m right here... Holy shit that’s good... I’m here, I got you...”

You kept rolling your hips, trying to get him deeper, shifting him around inside, flashes of pleasure building and building and building until you were close to tears again...  Please please please PLEASE!  Finally, mercifully, the tension snapped loose and you shook apart with a silent scream.

Dean couldn’t hold still, anymore.  “Ooooooh, my god!  Fuck, Y/N, I gotta-”  

Your eyes snapped open to drink up the sight of him.  He managed a handful of savage thrusts before he came- hard.  You could feel the pulses discharging impossibly deep.  Your vision sparkled a bit around the edges, your breath rushed out in a gasp, and you wrapped your arms and legs tighter around him, holding him close.  You were both crying, now.

You lay tangled together- inside and outside and around each other- and wept against each other’s shoulders without a sound.  You stayed that way for a long time, even after the tears were spent, just petting and kissing and nuzzling and listening to one another breathe.  Because moving meant you had to get on with this nightmare you were stuck in.  

It was the sound that roused you.  Tinkling whispers like a thousand tiny bells ringing.  Or an army of absurdly delicate wine glasses shivering together.  You and Dean slowly seperated and looked around.  

The red glow of the evening sun was dancing through the clearing, dazzlingly refracted through the innumerable facets of a field of crystal flowers.

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