#was trying to make progress on them in class but the curve handles refused to show on screen so i couldn't do certain steps

[tsubasaclones]

ughhhhhh i have this homework for one class that involves doing these after effects tutorials and like i know i should just go do it at the library because they have some macbooks with the creative cloud stuff on them. i'm worried about trying to install and use after effects on my computer right now because of the Issues it's having because it's bad enough trying to run clip studio, photoshop, illustrator, etc (which are in fact most likely driver related issues and not the screen, found that out AFTER replacing the screen) and i have my sisters last computer as my backup somewhere around here i was thinking about trying to install it on there but i can't fucking find it rn

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Study Habits

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,095

Summary: You are stressing about finals and need to study. When Pogue graciously volunteers to be your study buddy, you don’t refuse the offer. 

Silence and solitude, you decided, were your ideal conditions for studying for finals. Spencer Academy was a fairly serious institution given its status as a prep school, but the library and various common areas tended to transform into social scenes, especially during this point in the semester. As much as you enjoyed the chatter and laughs, you really needed to study in order to pass your physics final and make the honor roll.

At first you tried moving your studying to your dorm, which was definitely quieter, but it didn’t exactly give off study vibes either. It was way too easy to take a nap or raid your snack stash or eavesdrop on conversations that were happening in the hallway.

You looked and looked for a good spot and you finally found it in the discovery of the school’s shop classroom. Not many students at Spencer took wood or metal shop that you were aware of and you were a little surprised those classes were offered at all. The room itself was tucked away in a dim basement that shared space with random storage rooms and an unused bomb shelter, a relic leftover from the 1940s.

The day you found it was also the day you found out that the room’s door wasn’t locked by the teacher, which wasn’t good from a security standpoint, but made entering very easy for you whenever you dropped by after hours to study.

Being a shop classroom, it was mostly open space and machinery, not unlike a garage situation. You were extra careful not to disturb any of the projects-in-progress, even though some of them looked really cool, and avoided all of the tools, most of which you couldn’t name much less identify.

But there were a couple of waist high counter tables along one wall so you could sit down. The height was just right where you could alternate between sitting on a stool and standing on your feet which was honestly better for your circulation. Most importantly, it was abandoned at this time of night and that meant no distractions.

The sneaking around continued for a couple of days until your anxiety had had enough, prompting you to find out the teacher’s information so that you could email them and ask formal permission to use the room when school wasn’t in session. Mr. Clarke seemed happy enough to let you use it and you decided you liked him even though you had never met in person.

It wasn’t even until the second week of studying down there that you finally saw someone other than yourself. You had just finished dinner and made the trek from the dorms to the shop room when you noticed them. A radio played softly in the distance but as you got closer and closer to your spot, you figured out that it was coming from the room.

You paused just outside the door and debated whether you should still go in or not; you really needed to get through some practice problems, but would you still be as productive if someone else was in there? You really should do these problems. Besides, maybe the other person would leave soon.

The metal handle clicked as you opened the door.

A small boombox was blaring some Green Day out of its speakers and figure in a black tee sat next to it fiddling with a hand drill.

Wanting to get his attention before the drill started up you cleared your throat loudly.

Beautiful hazel eyes locked onto you immediately and you felt a little breathless. That was before he turned fully around and you were better able to appreciate his toned chest and arms through the black fabric of his shirt, small barely detectable sawdust particles attached themselves to his jeans.

“Hey there,” he greeted with a raised hand.

Of all people to run into you couldn’t believe that it was Pogue Parry, one of, and in your opinion, the student body’s top eye candies. Dazzled, all you managed was a timid wave back.

He cocked his head, his shaggy hair falling slightly to the side. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Come on, Y/N. Get it together and answer the boy.

“Actually, we have—”

“Physics together,” he finished with a smile. “I know. I meant down here in the shop.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. He recognized you! A Son of Ipswich noticed that you were in a class with him and you were so excited that you managed to ignore the fact that you had misunderstood him. “You’re right about that. I’ve only been coming here for, like, a week. I got permission to study here.”

“Cool. Mr. Clarke is a sweetheart so I’m not surprised.”

Trying to get back on track you asked, “How long do you think you’ll be working on that?”

Both of you looked at the drill.

“You probably want it quiet, huh? I can stop for today, this is just a side project I’m doing anyway, it’s gonna be a tv stand when it’s done. Definitely not as important as a final.”

As much as you felt bad for interrupting him and essentially taking over his spot, you took him up on his offer. He was now the hottest and kindest classmate in your mind. You dropped you backpack on the floor and spread your papers across the countertop trying your best to sneak peeks at Pogue where he was cleaning up a few feet away.

When he finished, he walked over. “What class are you studying for?”

“Physics.”

“No way!” He pulled up a stool and straddled it opposite of you.

It made you nervous to have him watch you write and when he pointed out a mistake you made, you felt like crawling into a hole. The eraser left behind eraser shavings as you corrected the error.

“Hey, wanna work together?” he asked either not noticing your embarrassment or choosing to ignore it.

“Sure,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Cool.”

He wasted no time and grabbed his own copy of the packet, clicking open a pen, ready to go.

You moved to the next problem and read it out loud.

“A block weighing 200 N is pushed along a surface. If it takes 80 N to get the block moving and 40 N to keep the block moving at a constant velocity, what are the coefficients of friction μs and μk?”

Pogue hunched over, quickly working it out when he noticed you sitting still, rubbing the end of your pencil against your mouth. Scooching over to your side of the counter he showed you his work and walked you through his steps.

“Wow, you’re really good at this.”

He laughed off the compliment. “Nah, I promise you I’m a pretty stupid student.”

“But you finished this problem in under a minute,” you insisted. “Meanwhile, I would’ve been stuck for hours and still have gotten it wrong.”

He stared at you and even though you couldn’t get a good read on him, it was too easy to get lost in his eyes. Eventually, he spoke.

“I don’t want to throw off your groove of anything, but maybe we can study together.”

Was this a dream? Because an invitation like that only happened in your fantasies.

“But I don’t know how that benefits you—you seem to a good handle on it already,” you admitted.

“As I told you, stupid student. Besides, my study habits are non-existent so maybe some of yours will rub off.”

You beamed at him, easily convinced. “Well then let’s go over the first problem again because I’m still confused...”

Every night for the next seven days Pogue met you in the basement and walked with you to the classroom for your study session. Despite not having a high opinion towards his academic abilities, he was very patient and effective tutor/partner.

“Wait, remember to multiply the variables in the parenthesis before subtracting it from the total. PEMAS is your friend Y/N.”

He was also very easy to talk to. Whenever he talked about his bike or swim regimen, two things you knew nothing about, he took the time to put it into words you understood without making you feel like an idiot. And when you were feeling chatty, he would actively take an interest in what you had to say.

“Hunger pains after a swim workout are the worst, especially after long swims where your aerobic systems are gassed. It feels like you’re one stomach growl away from wasting away.”

“Oh, speaking of food, I found a granola recipe. I don’t know who decide to mix coconut and cranberries with granola, but that palate combination amazing. I’ll bring you some if it turns out alright.”

“You’d better save me some then, even if it’s not to your ridiculously high standards. I can feed some to the boys, too.”

Time flew by and it didn’t feel like the studying had gone on for a whole week. Each session seemed to pass faster as you got to know him better, to see the him that didn’t have to be filtered for the public eye. You liked this side of him even better than what you have seen of him in class and in the halls.

But all things come to an end. On the last session before the final, you guys finally finished the last question in the review packet with a grateful exhale.

“You sir, are a physics godsend. I can’t believe we’re done with the whole review guide.”

“I hope the final isn’t as long as the guide is. He must’ve stuck every problem we did during the semester in this thing,” he complained.

“I really hope not,” you groaned. Because if it was, there was no way you would finished within the allotted one-hour period.

“But, I have a feeling you’re going to crush the exam. Just try your best not the set the curve too high, for the rest of our sakes.”

You playfully shoved him for the last part of his comment. Silence stretched on and you realized that this was the last time you guys were scheduled to study together. Fast on the heels of that thought was another: you didn’t want to leave. By the way he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, you hoped that meant he was reluctant as well.

“So…” he trailed off and you waited with bated breath. “Guess we should pack up, it’s almost nine.”

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment at his words. “Yeah, I guess.”

For a second, you were tempted to ask him out, or at least see if he wanted to hang out as friends, but you decided against it. He was the type that would’ve spoken up if he were interested. Best just to act dignified and be thankful that he bothered helping you in the first place.

You were steps away from walking out the door when he stopped you by grabbing your hand.

“Actually, what I meant to ask is if you want to get a bite to eat after the test tomorrow. Is that weird?”

Your pulse fluttered in obvious joy.

“You mean like a date?” you breathed.

“Yeah. You’re a pretty cool, Y/N, and I’d be sad if this is the last time we hang out.”

“I would love to,” you assured him with a huge smile on your face.

He reached to slowly envelope you in a hug, and even if the angle was a little awkward due to the backpacks being in the way, you automatically hugged back. You were thrilled to discover that he smelled like an exotic mix of leather and, dare you say, magic.

You were even more thrilled when he walked you back to the dorms like the sweet boy you had observed him to be over the past week. Luckily there weren’t any people loitering out in the hallway because if word got out that a Son of Ipswich had walked you to your room, the whole school would know by morning and you were enjoying the moment far too much to have to worry about that.

“Good luck tomorrow. See you on the flip side,” he said in parting.

That night you laid in bed but felt like you were on cloud nine. In less than twenty-four hours, you would be done with physics for the semester and have had a date with Pogue Parry. Pogue Parry! You snuggled into your pillow and swore his scent still lingered freshly in your nose.

_______________

I was super inspired yesterday and wrote this. Good luck to everyone that’s prepping for final exams! Thanks for reading.  

[seoulscenarios]

College AU! Seo Changbin

Sorry this one is out a little later than usual, but my laptop died and wouldn’t turn on so i couldn’t post it T__T but it’s here now. thank you for all your love and support for this series <3

-Major: Music (Vocal) and Composition

-Minor: business studies

-Sports: none,,, he likes sports but not enough to join in when he could be sleeping or writing music

-Clubs: contrary to his sharp image he could be seen frequenting the art department and literature department when the drawing club and poetry club held their meetings. He really liked drawing, deciding that if a music career was out of the question he could really say a big screw you to his parents and become a tattoo artist lmao. He didn’t go to the poetry club as much as he did the drawing club, he went to get inspiration for lyrics and new metaphors n stuff

-So Changbin a vocal major you say???

-Yes he did enjoy singing, he definitely wouldn’t say he was as good as the other students who were professionally trained from a young age but he had his own vocal colour

-Changbin did truly enjoy his course but he wasn’t,,,, passionate about it

-Unlike everyone else on the course who wanted to be singers or train people to sing,,, he just didn’t have that same mentality

-Which is why he chose to do composition as a way to do what he really liked

-Bc Changbin was a rapper

-And was part of the underground rap trio of 3RACHA with 3rd year Chan and fellow 2nd year Jisung

-They were extremely popular on campus,, it’s just a shame his vocal professors thought otherwise when he came in with a sore throat the next day to class

-They frowned upon rap, saying it wasn’t a viable option for Changbin to perform a rap piece about societal issues and that he NEEDED to sing in order to pass the module which needless to say,,, ended with him writing a few more rap tracks where he dissed the school system lmao (these ended up a HIT with the student body and Changbin frequently heard other students listening or quoting the lyrics which made him immensely proud uwu)

-One time he had to redo a module bc he rapped instead of sang at a recital, despite showing his teacher the song he was going to do and he even performed at rehearsal

-He just said screw it on the actual night and changed the track lmao

-Whilst it went down a storm with the students and his friends in the audience, his professors, examiners and the rest of the audience were extremely shocked and unimpressed

-His professor wanted to fail him but said he had too much potential as an artist that he made Changbin perform again in front of the department in order to give him a grade

-Okay so whilst Changbin did like to screw with his department a few times bc they were never lenient towards his ideas about rapping he did genuinely like his course and it meant he could pursue music, albeit different from what he wanted to do

-It was his minor that really gave him trouble

-You see,, he really hated business with a passion like he wanted to burn all his business textbooks n scream in front of the department building

-But he couldn’t bc it was the only reason he was allowed to study music at university

-His parents really did not approve of his career choice, citing how unreliable and unstable it was for the future you know the general consensus a lot of parents have about going into the arts instead of something safe like economics or bsiness or law

-It took countless months of arguing and persuading his parents that he didn’t want to do anything but music that the conceded only IF he picked up business as his minor

-Like,,, don’t get me wrong he could see where his parents were coming from but at the same time,,,, Changbin has such passion for the music world that he couldn’t see himself anywhere but a recording studio writing songs and lyrics, maybe even performing them himself

-He finally wore his parents down by showing them the feedback from his teachers in high school and online where he posted some of his self made tracks that they conceded

-But the business aspect of his course

-Made him want to die :)

-Changbin most certainly did not care for monopolies or business strategies that helped to improve profit margins for a corporate business

-This was exactly what Changbin hated and wrote songs about how it destroyed society but u know,,, it’s fine really

-Until he has to write three 2000 word essays on some business bullshit that he realises just how much he hates business

-Changbin was scarcely passing his business modules, praying to get at least 40% so he could pass instead of having to redo any of the work lmao (if that’s not me @ my modules)

-You could always see him when it was coming up to his deadlines at the library with Woojin cooing over him soothingly, as Changbin was trying NOT to cry about how much he hated business

-If Minho was studying there as well he would buy Changbin stress coffee and they would both sit there complaining about how awful deadlines were lmao

-Though,,,, Changbin was much better at handling the stress than Minho who just downed coffee after coffee

-Changbin just had a idc attitude when it came to his business stuff, saying if he failed it’s not much of a loss bc my parents think I’m wasting my time anyway (oof this hits a little close to home I wont lie)

-But anyway, Woojin would always help him revise for his business exams and would test him on case studies n vocabulary he needed to learn so he never went into them completely clueless

-Once,,, he literally ran to Woojin’s dorm after he got 68% on a business exam and he promised to buy Woojin all the chicken in the world for helping him

-Now, now that’s a tad excessive don’t you think?

-Hyung, I owe you my LIFE

-Changbin NO, just treat me to dinner once and consider it done

-Wow we don’t deserve Woojin

-Speaking of dorms,,,, Changbin rented out an apartment with Hyunjin and Seungmin and well,,,, their apartment was messy as hell

-Okay so first of all,,, they all studied different courses so their lounge area was just a mess of lyrics sheets, bits of fabric and law books strewn all over the place

-Law books served as coasters for left over coffee mugs and more often than not you could always find bits of scrap fabric in them if they’d be left out for too long lmao

-The three of them make Sunday cleaning day bc otherwise,,, well they’re apartment might become inhabitable

-So,,,, back to the plot

-You knew Changbin though it had been a while (read: middle school) since you had last seen him

-One could even say you were really close friends until you had to move away due to your fathers’ job and when u told baby Changbin this,,,, he cried and refused to speak to you and when he finally got round to the fact you were leaving,,,, you had already moved and even though you posted him a letter he didn’t read it out of spite (though he still had the letter uwu,, not that he would let anyone know)

-But ever since you moved away, you never got as close to anyone as you did with Changbin all those years ago and your heart ached a little every time you thought of your childhood friend

-However, you were grown up now and whilst you still got tinges of sadness you were over it and tried your best at your entrance exams so you could get into a good college

-You decided to major in psychology bc you really enjoyed the analysis of people and how the brain worked

-However,,, the uni you went to kinda sucked and you weren’t progressing as much as you thought you would be which made you,,, very frustrated

-So you began to look into other colleges and you contacted one that seemed to have an extremely high satisfaction and employment rate

-When you told your parents that you decided to move college they were apprehensive but when you explained why they did support you

-They were even more supportive bc it was the college that their friends’ son goes to and oh maybe they get in contact with them so their son could show you round campus

-Before you could protest they were on the phone setting up the arrangement

-So when your second year of college rolled round you found yourself at a new college and a new dorm with your stuff in boxes

-Your parents helped you move most of the stuff in but they had to leave early due to a business meeting (lol wasn’t that just ur life though)

-Without so much as a “goodbye sweetie let us know how it all goes” and a hasty kiss to the cheek they left you in the dust with 3 heavy boxes full of stuff you had to move in by yourself

-You sighed, heaving the boxes on top of each other praying that someone would see your struggles

-Luck was on your side that day it would seem

-As you struggled to pick up the three heavy boxes, you felt the weight lighten immensely and a voice piped up

-“You look like you need help, what room are you in?”

-“Uhh, 203”

-“Sweet let’s go”

-Something about the boy seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite place it as you followed him up the stairs to your dorm room

-Once you reached the door you told the boy it was fine and you could take it from here but he insisted on taking the boxes through for you

-Sighing, you fished the keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door, whilst simultaneously apologising for the mess ur room was in

-The boy just laughed, placing the boxes in an empty space as he observed the piles of textbooks and clothes thrown around your room and you froze

-You recognised that laugh

-Your eyes followed him as he took an innocent look around the stuff on your desk, watching him pick up a textbook and flipping through it

-Something seemed to have caught his attention, right at the front of the book and he turned round to look at you scrutinising your face

-“C-changbin?”

-“Y/N?”

-The two of you stared at each other, eyes wandering around the now unfamiliar curves and contours of your faces

-“My parents told me that you were transferring but I didn’t think I would actually see you so soon” changbin said warily, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck

-“Oh, um, yeah bad college for first year thought I’d try my luck some place different” you replied awkwardly, placing the box you were still holding onto the floor

-“Well,, it’s been a while”

-“Hmmm”

-The room lapsed into an awkward silence and Changbin traced the name in the textbook he was holding, in disbelief that he had finally found his childhood best friend again

-You, on the other hand, couldn’t believe how well Changbin had grown up

-Like he wasn’t a chubby kid but he had truly grown up,,, and well u felt ur throat well up in sadness at the fact you weren’t by his side as he grew up

-“I have to go back,,, it was nice seeing you again Y/N and I’ll catch you round?” changbin’s voice cut through your thoughts and you just nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment

-Of all the days to encounter to your old best friend, it just had to be on your first day at your new college you thought bitterly, glaring at the mess all around you before sighing, knowing it was no use being bitter about it before starting the lengthy process of unpacking

-Changbin, however, as soon as he got back to his apartment began to refile through trying to find the letter you had left him all of those years ago

-Hyunjin and Seungmin heard all the noise and decided to investigate

-Nothing could prepare them for the sight of Changbin with tears marking his face and a slip of paper with childish handwriting on, surrounded by hundreds of other sheets

-They just glanced at each other before leaving the doorway, deciding to confront him about it later

-Changbin didn’t notice his two flatmates, too busy tracing your childish scrawl

-“Binnie!! I know you are angry at me for leaving but I can’t help it. Dad got a new job T__T. I wish I could stay with you. If you are reading this, it means I already left. Ahh, what to do I’m crying. Please write to me Binnie, I wrote my new address on another piece of paper! Love your best friend, Y/N xxxxxxx”

-He reached into the envelope, pulling out another piece of paper where you had written your address as neatly as you could,,, obviously you had gone through much pain to get it as neat as possible so he could read it

-His heart began to ache, knowing that he had the means to contact you all those years ago but he had been an angry child

-Changbin wiped the tears from his face before putting the two pieces of paper back in the envelope and placing it delicately on his desk next to his lyrics book

-He sat on the floor, contemplating his options

-Like on the one hand, he wanted to really talk to you and get his best friend back but on the other hand, he was unsure if you wanted to or whether you had really moved on

-Throwing caution to the wind, he decided that he would try and talk to you again

-I mean he knew where you lived,,, he wondered if you still liked strawberry milk and jellies

-The next day you were surprised to see Changbin at your door holding a carton of strawberry milk and a packet of jellies

-You let him, secretly glad that he came to see you after your awkward encounter yesterday

-“I realised yesterday I was a complete ass, and I guess I was all those years ago for not opening your letter and realising that we still could’ve been friends if I just opened it” he said, standing awkwardly at your desk whilst you sat on the bed

-You laughed at how sad he looked, patting the space next to you gesturing for him to sit there

-His eyes widened before perching right on the edge of the bed,,,, you laughed again and just slapped his arm

-“It’s okay Changbin! Fresh start, we’re both ‘adults’ now so no hard feelings. Tell me about yourself and I’ll tell you what happened to me”

-For the next few hours, you found at everything about Changbin

-From how much he hated business to his new friends, all the way to the fact he was part of an underground rap trio with two of his other friends

-You were impressed, you knew Changbin liked to write lyrics from a young age and you were so proud he honed in on that passion to pursue a career in it

-Changbin listened raptly as you told him all about how much you suffered through high school, feeling like you didn’t have your life planned out like everyone else did and how you ended up taking psychology bc you enjoyed watching people and wanted to know more about how humans worked on a psychological level

-Without realising, the two of you fell back into your old rhythm like nothing hadn’t happened in the years you had been apart

-It had turned dark by the time you and Changbin had finished catching up with each other

-Changbin’s eyes widened as he checked his phone, both at the time and the hundreds of notifications he had gotten from all his friends including a concerned Felix (which NEVER happened)

-“Oh my god I really need to go before my friends send out a search party and they think I’m finally dead”

-“It’s fine! I didn’t think we had been talking for so long” you laughed at him, pushing him off the bed and towards the door

-Changbin’s hand was on the handle before he whipped back around so quickly you were worried for a hot second

-“I need your number. I won’t let myself screw this friendship over again” he handed you his phone and you felt your heart get all warm at the sentiment

-You put your number into his phone, with the contact name of “best friend, again” which Changbin smiled at before pulling you into a hug and running out of the door

-You smiled softly at his retreating figure, shutting the door and laying on your bed

-You hadn’t felt this happy in a long while, you finally had your best friend back

-Changbin on the other hand, got back to his apartment full of his 8 friends who all demanded to know where he had been without a single word to any of them for the past 11 hours which was very unlike him

-“Wait,,,, what’s with that look on your face?” hyunjin inquired, leaning forward to study changbin’s face

-“What look?” he asked confusedly

-“You never look this happy unless Felix is hugging you or you finished a particularly diss full track towards your professors or the government hyung” jeongin answered innocently, nestling further into Chan’s arms

-Felix looked particularly smug at this fact, but he too wanted to know what caused his hyung to go AWOL for hours

-“I,,,, met an old friend and we were catching up and lost track of time” Changbin shrugged

-“Hyung…. You never look this happy when meeting old friends? They must be special to you” Felix said, studying Changbin’s face closely and he was surprised to see his ears reddening slightly

-“Um,,,, you could say that we were best friends when we were kids”

-“hmmmmm”

-“……….”

-Suddenly Seungmin’s face cracked into a huge smile, piecing the puzzle together

-“Changbin hyung,,,, is the same best friend that, when drunk last year, told me that you were angry that they left you alone at school when they moved away”

-“………..”

-“The one you had a crush on?”

-“O K A Y PUNK LISTEN HERE-“

-Whatever Changbin was going to say,,, we will never know as Woojin threw a hand over changbin’s mouth before he could cuss out seungmin who was sat there smugly

-Changbin sighed against Woojin’s hand and slumped back

-Woojin released his hand warily, signalling for Changbin to explain

-“Yes this is that friend, their name is Y/N”

-The boys all smiled, knowing that you meant a lot to changbin and had been the subject of many of Changbin’s songs

-ANYWAY

-You and changbin quickly rekindled the flames of your friendship extremely quickly despite college starting, you always managed to find time to meet up

-Heck, you even found yourself joining him in the recording studio some nights helping Changbin with lyrics or just giving him some company

-The boys had taken an immense liking to you and quickly adopted you as the 10th member of their squad

-You were even a priority member of the underground club 3RACHA frequented at, much to the chagrin of the many fangirls who had been on the guestlist since last year

-Perks of being childhood friends with one of the members

-It’s here where you see Changbin in his true element

-You saw all his passion and rawness for the issues he spoke up for present themselves in such a beautiful and hard hitting way

-You couldn’t help but cry at one of the tracks he performed with Jisung about the effect bullying could have on students in school

-Changbin pulled you into a hug after the performance had ended, apologising for making you cry during the gig (the other boys began waggling their eyebrows at him suggestively and he had to physically restrain himself from throwing cusses at them, choosing to glare at them whilst hugging you)

-Over the next few weeks you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you began to look at Changbin differently than you did

-Sure,,, as a kid you admit you did have a crush on him but then don’t most kids crush on their best friends?

-But this,,, was more than a sweet puppy love

-You began to notice the little things at first, the way his eyes would widen when he had a spark of inspiration, the way his eyebrows would furrow when he tried to study for business and then the bigger things began to form with how he always had an arm slung around your shoulders when you walked across campus or when you had a bad day he would turn up at your dorm with hugs and a carton of strawberry milk

-You fell in love with him naturally, like it was almost fate

-Little did you know, Changbin too felt this way as well

-He noticed everything you did, how you fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous about something, the way your eyes crinkled as you laughed at a story Felix was telling you or the way you clung to him when you watched a horror film with the boys at Jisung and Jeongin’s dorm

-He began to write songs about you, and decided that this was the only way he could confess confidently

-Every moment he spent with you he wouldn’t exchange it for the world

-Besides, the whole campus seemed to think you were dating anyway

-It was the end of first semester and 3RACHA were holding another gig to celebrate and naturally you had to go hype up your best friend and celebrate your psych essays being over

-Unbeknownst to you, Changbin was going to perform the song he had written for you that night in a hope that you would understand how he felt about you

-As the lights came up, you couldn’t help but be in awe at how beautiful Changbin was in that moment

-As the gig progressed, both Chan and Jisung had performed solo tracks and you knew that Changbin had to be performing one as well

-Just then, a spotlight appeared and your attention was captured immediately as Changbin began to rap about a close friend and how they changed his entire life for the better

-You frowned slightly, trying to figure out who it was

-Felix maybe? He does like Felix a lot

-Towards the end of the song the lyrics seemed familiar and you realised,,, it was the lyrics you had helped with all those weeks ago

-Your eyes widened as they met Changbin’s dark eyes, and moved closer to you table much to the delight of the boys

-As the song reached the end, Changbin was stood in front of you and reached out to cup your face gently

-You leaned into his touch, looking up at him with hooded eyes

-Without much prompt, Changbin leaned down and kissed you gently causing everyone in the room to holler and wolf whistle

-You break apart from him, a grin spreading across your lips and the thought of Changbin’s lips on yours as he goes to finish the rest of the gig

-DATING CHANGBIN:

-After that day, you and changbin became an official item much to the surprise of practically everyone on campus who thought you were dating already ooops

-Dude least we can stop hearing you pine about how perfect Y/N is

-Oh that’s what you think,,,, now I can torture you about how much I freaking love them

-hyUNG NO PLEASE NO

-Dating Changbin was very much just being best friends, with more skinship

-Bc Changbin LOVED skinship

-He always had an arm around your shoulder or holding your hand as you walked anyway and when you were talking to people he always had you in a back hug,,, which made it uncomfortable for the other person at times esp if they didn’t know changbin

-I mean he looked scary and you were completely unfazed that he was hugging you as you were chatting about some psychology case study you were both studying for Prof Kim’s class

-nOT that Changbin was a jealous or possessive boyfriend, as some were inclined to think, he just a RBF and liked to hug you whenever you were together

-You certainly didn’t have a problem with it, leaning into his touch whenever his arms were around you

-Though he did get a little jealous sometimes when people at bars tried to flirt with you even when he was RIGHT THERE and had his arm around your waist

-He was just more frustrated at the fact the other person couldn’t get a hint so 9 times out 10 he ended up pulling you in for a kiss before pulling away to smile smugly at the other person

-They soon got the hint and stopped trying to hit on you

-You just laughed, leaning in him to kiss again before dragging him home before he got jealous again

-You woke up the next day with Changbin tracing his fingers lightly against your hips and thighs, making random patterns whilst softly smiling at you

-This was your favourite way to wake up tbh, like it was so soft and so utterly intimate that you craved his touch even more

-When the two of you turned up late to a meeting with the boys they just shook their heads at changbin’s messy hair and your slightly swollen lips

-Most of your guys day was spent in the recording studio or music practice room as changbin was writing songs or practice for an upcoming performance for his course, you were there with your psychology textbooks feet in his lap if he was sat at the mixing desk or sat on the floor in the practice room

-The two of you spent hours there, working in relative silence just happy to be in each others presence as you prepared for your upcoming projects and stuff

-Sometimes you helped him with his lyrics if he was struggling with wording a certain phrase or he wanted your opinion on a particular beat

-You also helped him revise for business, which you knew he hated but you wanted him to do well so sometimes you had to bribe him

-Changbin for every right answer ill give you a kiss

-roGER THAT

-The helping out was mutual as changbin too assisted you when you needed

-He could often be seen in the library or campus café holding your flashcards and notes, quizzing you about psychology case studies and terminology for your upcoming exams

-Changbin also liked to reward you with kisses every time you got an answer right,,,, though sometimes he was feeling childish and purposely said that you got an answer right when u hadn’t just so he could kiss you more lmao

-Changbin you know you don’t need a reason to kiss me…. You’re literally my boyfriend??

-Yeah but reward kisses are good!!!

-Not when you purposely lie to me so you can get kisses!

-How did you know I was lying?????

-Babe,,, I’m literally a psychology student I KNOW when you lie. And we’ve been friends since middle school so I’ve seen you lie for a good long while. Also,,,, I purposely got this answer wrong to see what you did lmao

-BABE WHAT THE HECK WHY???

-You’re too cute sometimes

-ANYWAY

-You and Changbin are the type of couple to wear couple clothes without realising it

-Like,,,, you would both be wearing oversized black hoodies and black beanies when you go for bbq with the boys one day and Felix was like,,,,, u planned this and ur both like ???? planned what????

-Speaking of hoodies,,, and clothes in general

-Changbin leaves his stuff at yours a lot in the hopes that you wear it one day,,, esp his shirts and hoodies bc he is that kind of boy that loves this kind of stuff then gets all blushy when you do

-Like when you turned up to a date one day wearing his favourite hoodie he MELTED at how cute you looked

-For your 6th month anniversary,,, you decided to get official couple stuff but like,,,, u didn’t want a ring

-You settled on getting a couple earring,,, which was adorable and Felix literally screamed when he saw you both wearing it one day

-Also,,,, at first you didn’t know that Changbin liked to draw until you find his sketches on the desk in his room where he hastily put them last night after drawing club

-You were looking through them when he turned up with a bag of takeout and he began to blush

-BABE these are really good!?!”$”

-They’re really not though!!

-Yes they are wow what can’t you do

-Business studies

-Oh you’re right there

-He told you that night that he wanted to be a tattoo artist if the music career didn’t work out and you clapped your hands in glee

-I mean you always wanted a tattoo so what better way than get your boyfriend to design one for you

-He protested this at first, claiming he wasn’t a great artist that warranted you to have something of him tattooed permanently to your body

-You, however, managed to convince him to design something small that you BOTH could get

-Screw couple rings, you guys went straight for the couple tattoo ;)

-Safe to say when the boys found out they all screamed, Felix sobbed in the corner whilst woochan hugged each other claiming that their kids grow up so fast

-When you finally got them done you couldn’t help but run your fingers over it every day,,, and your fingers always found themselves finding Changbin’s and running your fingers over it softly

-Ugh it was so soft and Hyunjin’s eyes rolled whenever he saw the two of you laying on the sofa hands running over each others tattoos and kissing each other softly

-Baso,,, u and changbin were just best friends who fell in love

-Slowly,, then all at once

-And you wouldn’t change it for the world

again,,, thank you for giving this series so much love it means the world to us!!!

[film-in-my-soul]

Repeat After Me - Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris

Pairing: Bill Denbrough/Stan Uris

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Slight bullying, Anxiety attack

Request: Anon: Stenbrough fic request - Bill is extremely stressed out and his stutter is really bad and he gets made fun of about it, upsetting him so Stan comforts him and crying + cuddles ensue. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill had starting to really hate highschool. It wasn’t the fact that the work was harder, no, he could cope with that, or even that the teachers were harder to work with. What Bill really hated, more than anything, were the oral exams.

Fucking. Oral. Exams.

While his stutter had gotten better, much, much better from when he was a child, it still wasn’t gone. It especially wasn’t gone when he had to stand up in front of a group of twenty-five other teenagers and give an oral presentation on the Civil War. Especially when none of his friends were in his social studies class. Not one Loser in sight for him to focus on and calm down.

The whole experience was made worse by the fact that Greta Bowie had been there, mocking him from the back of the class the entire time. Since Henry Bowers’ “disappearance,” she had taken her “rightful” place on the throne of torment.

Bill had made it through less than half of his presentation, frustrated unshed tears glossing his eyes over, fists clenched by his sides when the teacher Mrs. Jackson had placed a hand on his shoulder and told him to sit down.

It was completely mortifying but Bill would be caught dead before he was caught crying in the middle of class.

He could still hear Greta behind him giggling to herself and her friends, the feeling of her gaze had stuck on the back of Bill��s neck, causing it to flush hot in further embarrassment. Bill was more than grateful that Social Studies was his last class of the day. When the bell rang he practically sprinted from his seat toward his locker, fingers trembling still as he tried to twist the combination of his lock.

The other Losers would be there soon, often meeting up at Bill’s locker before heading out toward the bike racks and Billy really didn’t want them to see him like he was.

A shove at his shoulders had him stumbling forward, barely having enough time to catch himself from face-planting into the unforgiving metal of the locker. Bill turned, it was Greta, her group of three flocking around her like some kind of swarm of bees, she was chewing gum obnoxiously and smirking, gaze predatory as she took Bill’s form in.

She had a wicked glint in her eyes and took a single step closer, right into Bill’s space, forcing him to step back, the jutting metal of his locker dug painfully into his side.

“N-n-n-nice pre-pre-presentation B-b-b-b-billy bo-boy.” the mock stutter made Bill color hot in his cheeks, eyes cast down in shame as Greta barked out a laugh. She shoved him once more and then saunter off to go torture some other soul.

Usually, Bill was good at handling the teasing, he was used to it, had been since he was five and realized that the way he talked wasn’t exactly correct. But with all that was going on, the oral report, the stress of classes and not having enough time to decompress with his friends had made everything seem more raw. A wound he couldn't keep closed. It didn’t help that when he’d been practicing the night before his mother had given him “the look,” the one that without a doubt said she was disappointed with his progress and the continuation of his stutter.

It was enough to send anyone into an anxious fit.

Bill turned and practically yanked the lock off his locker to get it open and shut as quickly as possible.

He couldn’t be around anyone right now, not even his friends, not when he was about to have some kind of breakdown in the middle of the packed highschool hallway. He turned to exit out of one of the many school doors and even though he saw Eddie approaching from down the hall Bill left quickly.

By the time he was on his bike and halfway home the frustration was still there, itching under his skin, pounding against his ribcage, making his eyes sting as he peddled harder, trying to work out the twisting in his gut so he could return to some kind of normal.

It wasn’t helping.

He made it home in record time, his lungs screaming for air, calves burning and eyes clouding over. Neither of his parents were home. He wasn’t surprised, they were almost never home anymore, not after everything that had happened with Georgie, even Bill had trouble walking past the front door some days.

Even in the state that he was in Bill took his time propping Silver up against the side of his house, locking up his beloved bike before hurrying inside. He slammed the front door behind him, the dull bang echoing as he took the stairs up to his room two at a time.

He made no time to close the door behind him, not with all the frustration and embarrassment and loathing still bubbling up under his skin and radiating off him in the form of cold sweat. Bill unceremoniously dropped to the floor in front of his bed, knees pulling up to his chest, back against the boxspring as he clutched his legs.

Bill sat like that for a long time, at least it felt like that, an eternity of silent tears pooling in his eyes and falling off his lashes as the boy stared across from him at nothing, just turning over Greta’s words, the teachers caring condescension, and his stupid fucking frustrating stutter.

Bill swallowed thickly, angry determination reared its head as he blinked and took a breath, wiping his eyes until they were dry and stinging, red with irritation.

“H-h-he t-th-th-th-thru-s-s-s -” Bill shook his head and clenched his fists hard, still clutched around his legs. “H-he th-th-thrus-s-s-s-thrusts hi-his f-f-f-fis-s-s-s- fuck!”

Bill felt the hot coil of shame build again as he pressed his forehead to his knees and screwed his eyes shut. Another round of tears began to build just behind his eyelids.

He didn’t realize anyone was in his room, his home even, until there was a slim-fingered hand resting on his shoulder.

Billy jerked his head up, green eyes meeting brown. Stan was kneeling in front of him, expression soft but concerned. A long moment of silence passed between them when finally Stan’s fingers curled gently around Bill’s back and pulled him forward into a slightly uncomfortable hug. Bill unfolded his body the best he could so he could draw closer to Stan’s warmth.

A cold wetness pooled on Stan’s half exposed throat, the collar stretching down while Bill clutched at him, head shoved into the curve between Stan’s neck and shoulder as he cried. Stan was firm with his embrace, holding Bill through his shaking.

They stayed like that for a long while, until Stan’s knees hurt from kneeling and Bill seemed to have cried himself out as best he could. Stan didn’t ask why or comment, he hadn’t spoken at all since he’d appeared.

Bill pulled away from his friend, arguably his best friend (in Bill’s mind much more than either of those things).

Stan still wore the same expression, ready at a moment's notice to pull Billy back into his chest if further comfort should be needed.

“I-I-I cuh-cuh-cuh-couldn’t… I -” Bill grew frustrated at himself again, the words tangling up on his tongue, refusing to come out for him, his head fell forward as he grimaced. Stan moved his hand from Bill’s shoulder to his cheek, the other going to join it on the other side of Bill’s face to pull their gazes back together.

Bill was flushed in the cheeks, his eyes lined red and his lips were bitten to the point of looking painfully pink. Stan kept their eyes locked together.

“Repeat after me,” he said softly, refusing to let Bill’s head sink back down in shame. He waited until Bill blinked and nodded slowly in his hands. “I.”

“I-I.” Stan bobbed his head in approval, a small smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“Am.”

“A-a-am.”

“Okay.”

“Oh-oh-k-kay.”

“Again,” Stan made a careful show of taking in a large breath. “I. Am. Okay.”

Bill mimicked Stan’s breath and felt the tension in his shoulders and stomach start to melt as he kept his eyes on the other boy.

“I-I am oh-k-kay.” Stan was smiling a tad wider but just as soft.

“One more time. I’m okay.”

“I’m oh-k-kay.”

Stan gave a final nod and Bill could feel that he’d calmed down, the tightness no longer pulling his body uncomfortably, the itch no longer under his skin, just a warm, tired calm left by Stan in its wake. He felt that and the exhaustion of crying for who knows how long. It was noticeable in the way that Billy sagged slightly, head getting a tad heavier in Stan’s hands. When the other boy realized he’d yet to let go of Bill’s face he flushed, slowly pulling his fingers away so not to startle either of them.

“You, uh, you should probably take a nap.” Stan said, finally taking a moment to sit back on his heels, pulling the pressure off of his knees.

Bill nodded, rubbing his already pained eyes, just to make sure there wasn't any lingering wetness.

“Y-yeah, you’re pr-probably right.” They both got up to their feet, albeit unsteady. Stan hung around for a moment before he turned to leave. A hand shot out and fingers closed loosely around his bony wrist. Stan turned around quickly.

Both boys stood, staring at each other until Bill spoke up.

“W-would you s-s-stay?” Stan didn’t think he’d have the ability to say no if he tried. Not to Bill. Never to Bill.

He nodded his head and stepped back into the room, Bill leading Stan by the arm until they both were awkwardly stood at the end of Bill’s bed. They hadn’t shared a bed together since they were thirteen and still could have space between them. Since Bill had realized maybe what he was feeling for Stan wasn’t what he felt for the other Losers.

It had been two years since then, but the reality of the moment was more pressing, the reality that Stan was the only thing holding Bill together. He needed him there.

Stan, surprisingly took the first tentative step forward, gently extracting his wrist from Bills grip and laying across the bed. He tucked himself into the corner, back against the wall with his curls sprawled out against the pillows. There wasn’t much room and Bill wasn’t sure what to do until Stan opened his arms wide as though he were going for a hug while laying down. It dawned on Bill that Stan meant for him to lay against him, tucked into his embrace.

The thought made Bill’s heart race as he shuffled onto the bed, laying with his back to Stan’s chest, still a bit of space between them, as much as Bill could spare. He didn’t want to make Stan uncomfortable.

Stan’s arm looped around Bill’s waist and pulled him the half an inch that remained between them, his nose tucked into the juncture of Bill’s shoulder and neck.

Bill fought the urge to squirm in surprise and instead focus on his breathing and keeping his blush down as much as possible. They laid there, Bill’s mind still reeling, too hyper-fixated on the weight and warmth of Stan across his back.

Gentle breath tickled over the exposed skin of his throat.

“Sleep Bill.” Stan’s sleepy command had the other boy closing his eyes and soon he too fell into the peaceful darkness of rest.

[sibatrash]

Happy birthday! Request for some nsfw Jean x Armin pls?

Okay let me tell you about this little AU I created!

Jean and Armin met at college and immediately fell in love their freshman year. Jean is a chemistry major and Armin is an English major, so their majors don’t really match up. They just happened to meet by accident in an introductory philosophy class where Armin ended up being Jean’s tutor for a while before they got together! So this is set sometime during their senior year, where Jean is coming to finally meet Armin’s scary dads for Easter :) I hope you enjoy!

The click of a closed door had never sounded so sweet to Jean’s ears as it did in such a moment where he was finally able to be with the man he loves, in a peaceful silence that had not existed in many hours. The silence had been killed, the moment they walked into the Smith-Ackerman household, and was bludgeoned to death by none other than Papa Levi for the rest of the evening. The silence, the comfortable silence that Jean was so used to enjoying with armin, was now replaced by an interrogation by the small, angry man who seemed to have so much rage for a man who raised such a peaceful son. But then again, Armin’s other father, Erwin, and he shared more than just platinum blonde locks, bright blue eyes and a love for knowledge. Despite Erwin being a former marine, he had this certain quality of calm, a serene expression that was usually accompanied with a smile. It was an expression Jean had seen one too many times on Armin, when he had resigned to staying up all night to study for finals with Jean, or when they decided to be dumb and try to find a pizza place that was open at four am around campus. Erwin’s smile was calm, but Armin’s was beautiful. It was the kind of smile that Jean knew he wanted to see for the rest of his life, but first, he had to gain the approval of both Erwin and most certainly Levi before that could even be considered-

For several seconds, his thoughts drifted off into oblivion and left him to watch as Armin slipped off his dress shirt. His nimble fingers worked to undo all of the buttons of that white cotton shirt. In the back of his mind, he registered that Armin was talking. But upon looking at his boyfriend’s face, in the hopes of discerning what he was saying, Jean found himself staring at those rosy pink lips, how they moved and curved with every syllable murmured. How long had it been since they had kissed? At least six hours, a length of time that Jean truly didn’t think was healthy for two healthy, young men who were absolutely, maddening in love with one another. He could easily make up some excuse about kiss withdrawals that would somehow excuse a sudden kiss, then Armin’s cheeks would become red and he’d probably hit Jean’s chest again in that teasing way he always did when embarrassed-…

“Babe? Are you listening?” Armin pulled Jean away from his fantasy, just seconds before it became too lewd for his own good. That would have resulted in an excruciating walk of shame to the bathroom.

“Uh huh-”

Armin knew immediately that Jean was lying based on the sheepish smile that suddenly took over his expression. Jean’s lips curled up on one end while a breathless laugh escaped him. The indication of his guilt, was the fact that he began to rub at the back of his neck. Despite that he knew Jean was lying, a warm smile curls up the ends of Armin’s lips until he was left grinning at his stupid boyfriend.

“I was saying that Papa and Dad are going out to buy groceries tonight, They said they would pick up some wine for Easter dinner tomorrow. Are you going to be okay with red?”  Armin runs a hand through his shoulder length hair, tugging on the ends of his hair and letting it fall around his shoulders; a golden curtain that framed his face and illuminated the man as if it was his own personal halo.

“Hell yea. Does that mean I can get drunk with your dads?” Jean steps away from where he had been gaping by the door a cheeky smirk lighting up his eyes, he was making a beeline for the space in front of Armin that would allow him the perfect access to caressing those toned hips. Black dress pants covered Armin’s waist, yet Jean could still make out the slight bump of those hips. It was a bump he had memorized during many late nights, whether cuddling or indulging in that which was much more carnal.

“Absolutely not, you’re a terrible drunk-” Just as Jean predicted, his boyfriend slapped at his chest playfully. Not that the motion hurt him through his maroon polo shirt, he still faked a flinch. His acting would have been perfect, had he not had that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on baby, I’m not that bad.” In reality, Jean was even more of a blabber-mouth as a drunk man as compared to when he was sober. After all, years ago it only took two beers for him to blab to Armin that he was the hottest piece of ass that ever walked on their university campus. The amount of progress he had made in controlling his tongue when intoxicated, was minimal at best. The only thing that had changed, was that Armin had somehow convinced Jean never to tell him the endings to movies they watched when drunk.

“You are, I worry that you would say something that would make Papa mad.” Jean raises a fine eyebrow, watching his boyfriend begin to blush at the mere thought of what embarrassing stories his boyfriend could blab and tell his fathers about. “Like, ‘Hey Mister Ackerman, I plowed your son once in a movie theatre.’” It was rare that Armin admitted that he and Jean had done anything more than kisses to the cheek, even around their closest friends he would refuse to talk about what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of hearing Armin say such a thing out loud that made Jean burst out in boisterous laughter, a smile breaking his teasing expression as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. It didn’t help that Armin decided to playfully slap him chest and attempt to hide his cerise cheeks behind a curtain of golden hair that had fallen around his face upon looking down.

“It’s not funny Jean!” Despite his protests, Jean continued to chuckle, “Babe, I only let that slip once.” He pauses and brings his hand up to cup Armin’s soft cheek, tilting his bright blue gaze back up to meet Jean’s own. “Besides, that was a pretty good time.” Even with his hand intruding on the otherwise perfect view of Armin’s face, he was a sight to behold. Cute button features, long blonde hair, glimmering bright blues that Jean could easily lose himself in yet again; all of which came together to make a man Jean would never describe as anything but perfect.

“It was.” Armin pauses, lips pursing ever so slightly as Jean recognized his expression of curiosity and contemplation. Although it was an expression that was rare to see outside of homework time, “You know, it has been a while.” Armin spoke in a hushed manner, so much so that his words were barely able to be heard unless Jean were to strain, “…and dad and papa will be gone for a while. They always take a long time grocery shopping.” At first, Jean’s mind was struggling to comprehend what it could be that his boyfriend was suggesting with a faint blush to his cheeks and a bit of a timid nature. All too quickly, the pieces fell into place, clicking in Jean’s mind and bringing forth an onslaught of lewd fantasies that he would love to enact in those few hours of peace. But he would play along by teasing and giving in to Armin’s wishes to make sure to please Armin as he deserved to be.

“Oh really?” His hands migrated back to where they had been previously, clinging to the rounded curves of Armin’s hips. The only difference was that Jean now tugged gently at his beloved’s dress pants, allowing a smirk to come to his lips as the action brought Armin closer. Frankly, Jean was glad he didn’t have to think of another snarky thing to say in order to tease his boyfriend yet again. Instead, Armin yanked Jean forward by his shirt in a sudden movement that brought their lips together, sealing a passionate kiss between them. There may have been some bumping of foreheads and the click of their teeth together by accident, but Jean chalked it up to how worked up Armin must be. It was not common to see Armin pining, digging his fingers into the back of Jean’s neck and dragging Jean forward until they tumbled back on his small bed. All too quickly clothing that had been so proper and outfits that had been agonized over, were thrown to the floor in heaps. Jean would much rather focus on how that cerise color trailed down Armin’s neck, beginning in his cheeks and continuing down his body like a mist that only grew darker with every kiss by Jean.

Years of learning and being a partner in crime as well as boyfriend meant that Jean knew every crevice of Armin’s body, every spot that would make his beloved wiggle and moan until they both couldn’t handle it any more. Likewise, Armin knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted from Jean. In that moment, where they were both struggling to slip off what little clothing remained between them, it was apparent that there was no plan between the two of them. There was no grand gesture or indication that this has been staged in any way. That contributed to the fire in Jean’s groin, that which made it that much more difficult to focus on anything besides the breathy moans leaving his lover. He made sure his hands lead the way, caressing down Armin’s body before his lips could cover the smoothed skin with soft kisses. Jean kissed over silken skin, stopping only when rose buds seemed far too alluring to ignore. Even in those moments, he wasn’t entirely consumed by the flick of his tongue against Armin’s nipple, rather what consumed him from the inside out was a flame, ignited in his abdomen and travelled over every nerve in his body due. The wildfire that jumped across his skin was ignited by those lewd sounds coming from Armin, as well as the protruding erection surrounded by golden curls that pressed against Jean. A flick of his tongue was a splash of gasoline between them, a jump of Armin’s erection, another moan filling the space between them. A soft bite to the skin surrounding Armin’s abused bud was a jerk of hips, a hand finding Jean’s hair and massaging his scalp. Pleas for more, both verbal and physical were nearly too much for Jean. His mind was fogged, his body moving on instinct as he kissed back up Armin’s chest to meet those needy lips and hopefully calm the flurry of kind curses against Jean’s life if he didn’t do anything to relieve the tension building.

Armin no longer tried to hide how physical he was with Jean, in the beginning he used to try and hold himself back for Jean’s sake. He wouldn’t dig his fingers into Jean’s back, nor tug on his hair and demand from Jean. Rather he would just submit, lay there and be the perfect boyfriend while denying his own pleasures. Although, Jean made it hard to not be physical. He teased Armin, nibbling on his bottom lip and coaxing those actions from him. His fingers dug into Jean’s scalp, gasping as curious hands roamed down over his erection, ghosting over tense nerves as a means of teasing Armin. That is, until Armin got his revenge by biting Jean’s bottom lip and bucking his hips forward into that grip, demanding with a breathless voice, “Touch me-”

Jean was more than happy to oblige, stroking Armin’s shaft and watching how his body contorted, hips jerking forward to meet the thrusts of his hand and hands twisting his hair all over the place. Armin was the epitome of perfection, everything about him was flawless. But in such a moment where tension was high and their desire for one another was unrivaled, Jean knew that they both needed something more. It was almost physically painful to remove himself from their embrace to search amongst their things quickly, in hopes of finding what was needed. Luckily, the box of condoms and bottle of lubricant Jean had hidden in his suitcase were still in place so that by the time he turned around, he had the corner of a condom between his lips and a small bottle in his hand. It seemed Armin was far more impatient than Jean had imagined for when Jean turned around once again, a slender hand had slipped around his own erection, continuing to pleasure himself in the absence of his boyfriend.

If he were allowed Jean would have gladly sat back and watched Armin finish himself off, but he knew that would leave him in the dog house for far too long than was to his liking. Rather than risk a potential punishment, he begins to slip on the condom, adding a fair amount of lubricant to the condom as well as stepping towards his beloved boyfriend. From that moment on, the rest of their private evening was a bit of a blur. Moans, grunts and flushed skin swirled together for what seemed like forever, encasing Jean and Armin in a bubble that wouldn’t allow them to see outside of their own love making. The steady shake of the bed, rocking of hips, names moaned out, skin bitten until distinct red hickies littered both of their necks and shoulders, it was all so much to handle.

Post-coital cuddles and kisses was perhaps the best part, moments where tenderness was never enough and affirmations of love were never doubted. It seemed their two hour refuge had done them both well for when Armin’s fathers returned to the house with groceries in tow, the young men were both more chipper than before their departure. Except for a slight gimp to Armin’s step and some tenderness on the back of Jean’s shoulders, they thought their escape into one another had gone unnoticed. That is, until Levi caught Jean’s eye while unloading the rest of the groceries.

“If you’re gonna have hickies, hide them better. I don’t want to see that shit at Easter dinner.”

“Uh, Yes sir-”

[eddiejpoplar]

Quick Take: 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition

MALIBU, California — The last time I drove a Mercedes E63 AMG was about 10 years ago, before there was even a Mercedes-AMG. It was a blue station wagon complete with roof rack and seven seats, cream-colored leather interior, AARP-grade wood trim—and AMG’s wicked 6.2-liter 507-hp V-8 lurking under hood. It was the ultimate sleeper, both visually and experientially, conducting itself with all the grace and poise of an E-Class until you floored the accelerator—at which time it would rocket forward, exhaust blaring loud enough to drown out a Manowar concert, while the cops in the vicinity gave themselves whiplash trying to find the Challenger, Camaro, or Mustang making all that noise.

The 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition is nearly the exact opposite. It’s a sedan, with bulging bodywork finished in matte-black paint. The dash and doors are slathered in carbon-fiber trim. The rock-hard racing seats are wrapped in ebony leather, as is the bulk of the dash, all highlighted with miles of bright-yellow contrast stitching. It’s the sort of interior a billionaire bumblebee might commission.

And the hardware under the hood is brilliant: A 4.0-liter V-8 with a pair of turbochargers that boost it up to 603 hp. I thought I’d miss the big cubes of the old E63, but no, no, no—not only is this one faster (0-60 in 3.3 seconds, says Mercedes-AMG; our colleagues down the hall at Motor Trend timed it at 3.2), but it’s just as loud and every bit as brutal.

The all-wheel-drive E63 S’s nine-speed automatic uses an automated clutch in place of a torque converter in order to maximize the engine’s face-flattening potential. One of the most significant improvements to this all-new version is the easy-to-use launch mode. The outgoing E63 required an incomprehensible sequence of button-pushing and paddle-pulling, but the new car makes it simple: Turn the drive-mode controller to Race, push the brake pedal to the floor, and mat the accelerator. Release the brake, hang on tight, and start thinking up excuses to give the police.

What I’d been told about new the E63 S was that, unlike the older iteration I drove, it wasn’t just a straight-line muscle car. So I made a beeline for my favorite twisty canyon roads, and while the ride out there was miserable—more on that shortly—the drive in the curves was exhilarating. I wish I could give you an Andy Pilgrim-like report of which corners are underdamped and which tires were showing signs of heating up first, but the bald-faced truth is that I pushed the hot-rod Mercedes as fast as I dared on the roads I know best, and the most I could eke out was a wee bit of understeer and a sympathetic screeching from the tires (and I’m pretty sure they were only doing that to make me feel better).

I did get the rear end to step out once, and this required a particularly sharp turn, glass-smooth pavement, and the willingness to soil a perfectly good pair of trousers. It was obvious that however fast I wanted to go, the Mercedes was happy to go faster. With the fear factor approaching a level I’ve not experienced since my high school girlfriend told me a certain recurring biological event had not shown up on its anticipated schedule, I eased back my speed a bit, opened the windows, and enjoyed the lovely burbling and backfiring of the exhaust as it echoed off the canyon walls.

I came away with two key takeaways about the E63 S (I dare not label them as problems, as a better driver might disagree). First was a tendency for the stability control system to trip a little early. Of the three performance driving modes—Sport, Sport Plus, and Race—only the latter uses the stability control’s performance program. Fire into a corner too fast (a bad habit of mine) and it’s easy to trigger just a smidge of understeer, but that smidge is enough to cause the ESC system to dial back the power. Selecting Race mode solved the problem, and those smidges never developed into anything bigger; still, what with the cliff walls on one side and drop-offs on the other, I’d prefer something in the middle between full-on nanny and a liberally-minded track program. This is as good a place as any to note that the E63 S also has a Drift mode, which sends 100 percent of the engine’s power to the rear wheels and requires stability control to be switched fully off. I didn’t dare.

Issue No. 2 is the E63 S is hyper-responsive, as a racing-inspired street car should be, but unless you’re super-smooth on the controls, it’s easy to feed in a bit too much steering, gas, or brake. This has always been a challenge for me, and my early progress up some of the twistier bits was far jerkier than I would care to admit. Good thing I was well within the car’s prodigious handling envelope; goodness knows what my less-than-ideal technique was doing for weight transfer.

Still, despite the fact that it highlighted some of my poorer driving habits, I found the E63 S to be a grin-generating thrill ride. My takeaway from a day of challenging the laws of both traffic and physics is that the E63 S really is a supercar masquerading as a sedan—which makes the $105,000 price tag seem like tremendous value for money.

But as a daily commuter, it’s pretty rough.

The problem with the E63 S is that it drives in tuned-up mode all the time. The steering is heavy enough to fatigue your arms. The suspension merely takes the edge off of sharper bumps, as if it was fulfilling the minimum standards of care required by law but refusing to do anything else. And the seats—don’t even get me started. The front buckets are meanly padded and rock hard, and I spent the better part of my day trying, and failing, to find a comfortable adjustment. In all fairness, seat comfort was less of an issue after my hot-rod curvy-road drive, but that may have been afterglow—or perhaps the forces of acceleration had temporarily remolded my spine to the seat’s unforgiving contours.

Were I reading this review instead of writing it, I suspect I’d be screaming at the screen right about now: “If it drives like a supercar, of course it rides like crap!” Fair point—but this is a German supercar, and furthermore it’s got an air suspension and electric power steering. I submit that AMG’s engineers could have made the car just as talented in Sport and Race modes while providing a “Comfort” mode that was actually comfortable. They could have turned up the power-steering boost. They could have softened the ride. They could have put just a wee bit more padding in the seats.

But they didn’t.

The E63 S is harsher than it needs to be in its tamest setting, a little less comfortable, a little more tedious to drive to the office. It’s as if the engineers are jealous of your ability to afford this amazing car, and were determined to punish you for it.

In an ideal world, I would own a Mercedes-AMG E63 S. I would have it waiting at the foot of my favorite curvy canyon road, engine warmed up, in Race mode—primed and ready for attack. And in that same ideal world, I’d have a 10-year-old E63 wagon to commute between my house and the car.

2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $105,395/$145,160 (base/as tested) ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbocharged DOHC 32-valve V-8/603 hp @ 5,750-6,500 rpm, 627 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 196.4 x 81.3 x 56.6 in WHEELBASE 115.7 in WEIGHT 4,515 lb 0-60 MPH 3.3 sec TOP SPEED 186 mph

IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

Quick Take: 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition

MALIBU, California — The last time I drove a Mercedes E63 AMG was about 10 years ago, before there was even a Mercedes-AMG. It was a blue station wagon complete with roof rack and seven seats, cream-colored leather interior, AARP-grade wood trim—and AMG’s wicked 6.2-liter 507-hp V-8 lurking under hood. It was the ultimate sleeper, both visually and experientially, conducting itself with all the grace and poise of an E-Class until you floored the accelerator—at which time it would rocket forward, exhaust blaring loud enough to drown out a Manowar concert, while the cops in the vicinity gave themselves whiplash trying to find the Challenger, Camaro, or Mustang making all that noise.

The 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition is nearly the exact opposite. It’s a sedan, with bulging bodywork finished in matte-black paint. The dash and doors are slathered in carbon-fiber trim. The rock-hard racing seats are wrapped in ebony leather, as is the bulk of the dash, all highlighted with miles of bright-yellow contrast stitching. It’s the sort of interior a billionaire bumblebee might commission.

And the hardware under the hood is brilliant: A 4.0-liter V-8 with a pair of turbochargers that boost it up to 603 hp. I thought I’d miss the big cubes of the old E63, but no, no, no—not only is this one faster (0-60 in 3.3 seconds, says Mercedes-AMG; our colleagues down the hall at Motor Trend timed it at 3.2), but it’s just as loud and every bit as brutal.

The all-wheel-drive E63 S’s nine-speed automatic uses an automated clutch in place of a torque converter in order to maximize the engine’s face-flattening potential. One of the most significant improvements to this all-new version is the easy-to-use launch mode. The outgoing E63 required an incomprehensible sequence of button-pushing and paddle-pulling, but the new car makes it simple: Turn the drive-mode controller to Race, push the brake pedal to the floor, and mat the accelerator. Release the brake, hang on tight, and start thinking up excuses to give the police.

What I’d been told about new the E63 S was that, unlike the older iteration I drove, it wasn’t just a straight-line muscle car. So I made a beeline for my favorite twisty canyon roads, and while the ride out there was miserable—more on that shortly—the drive in the curves was exhilarating. I wish I could give you an Andy Pilgrim-like report of which corners are underdamped and which tires were showing signs of heating up first, but the bald-faced truth is that I pushed the hot-rod Mercedes as fast as I dared on the roads I know best, and the most I could eke out was a wee bit of understeer and a sympathetic screeching from the tires (and I’m pretty sure they were only doing that to make me feel better).

I did get the rear end to step out once, and this required a particularly sharp turn, glass-smooth pavement, and the willingness to soil a perfectly good pair of trousers. It was obvious that however fast I wanted to go, the Mercedes was happy to go faster. With the fear factor approaching a level I’ve not experienced since my high school girlfriend told me a certain recurring biological event had not shown up on its anticipated schedule, I eased back my speed a bit, opened the windows, and enjoyed the lovely burbling and backfiring of the exhaust as it echoed off the canyon walls.

I came away with two key takeaways about the E63 S (I dare not label them as problems, as a better driver might disagree). First was a tendency for the stability control system to trip a little early. Of the three performance driving modes—Sport, Sport Plus, and Race—only the latter uses the stability control’s performance program. Fire into a corner too fast (a bad habit of mine) and it’s easy to trigger just a smidge of understeer, but that smidge is enough to cause the ESC system to dial back the power. Selecting Race mode solved the problem, and those smidges never developed into anything bigger; still, what with the cliff walls on one side and drop-offs on the other, I’d prefer something in the middle between full-on nanny and a liberally-minded track program. This is as good a place as any to note that the E63 S also has a Drift mode, which sends 100 percent of the engine’s power to the rear wheels and requires stability control to be switched fully off. I didn’t dare.

Issue No. 2 is the E63 S is hyper-responsive, as a racing-inspired street car should be, but unless you’re super-smooth on the controls, it’s easy to feed in a bit too much steering, gas, or brake. This has always been a challenge for me, and my early progress up some of the twistier bits was far jerkier than I would care to admit. Good thing I was well within the car’s prodigious handling envelope; goodness knows what my less-than-ideal technique was doing for weight transfer.

Still, despite the fact that it highlighted some of my poorer driving habits, I found the E63 S to be a grin-generating thrill ride. My takeaway from a day of challenging the laws of both traffic and physics is that the E63 S really is a supercar masquerading as a sedan—which makes the $105,000 price tag seem like tremendous value for money.

But as a daily commuter, it’s pretty rough.

The problem with the E63 S is that it drives in tuned-up mode all the time. The steering is heavy enough to fatigue your arms. The suspension merely takes the edge off of sharper bumps, as if it was fulfilling the minimum standards of care required by law but refusing to do anything else. And the seats—don’t even get me started. The front buckets are meanly padded and rock hard, and I spent the better part of my day trying, and failing, to find a comfortable adjustment. In all fairness, seat comfort was less of an issue after my hot-rod curvy-road drive, but that may have been afterglow—or perhaps the forces of acceleration had temporarily remolded my spine to the seat’s unforgiving contours.

Were I reading this review instead of writing it, I suspect I’d be screaming at the screen right about now: “If it drives like a supercar, of course it rides like crap!” Fair point—but this is a German supercar, and furthermore it’s got an air suspension and electric power steering. I submit that AMG’s engineers could have made the car just as talented in Sport and Race modes while providing a “Comfort” mode that was actually comfortable. They could have turned up the power-steering boost. They could have softened the ride. They could have put just a wee bit more padding in the seats.

But they didn’t.

The E63 S is harsher than it needs to be in its tamest setting, a little less comfortable, a little more tedious to drive to the office. It’s as if the engineers are jealous of your ability to afford this amazing car, and were determined to punish you for it.

In an ideal world, I would own a Mercedes-AMG E63 S. I would have it waiting at the foot of my favorite curvy canyon road, engine warmed up, in Race mode—primed and ready for attack. And in that same ideal world, I’d have a 10-year-old E63 wagon to commute between my house and the car.

2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $105,395/$145,160 (base/as tested) ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbocharged DOHC 32-valve V-8/603 hp @ 5,750-6,500 rpm, 627 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 196.4 x 81.3 x 56.6 in WHEELBASE 115.7 in WEIGHT 4,515 lb 0-60 MPH 3.3 sec TOP SPEED 186 mph

IFTTT

[jonathanbelloblog]

Quick Take: 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition

MALIBU, California — The last time I drove a Mercedes E63 AMG was about 10 years ago, before there was even a Mercedes-AMG. It was a blue station wagon complete with roof rack and seven seats, cream-colored leather interior, AARP-grade wood trim—and AMG’s wicked 6.2-liter 507-hp V-8 lurking under hood. It was the ultimate sleeper, both visually and experientially, conducting itself with all the grace and poise of an E-Class until you floored the accelerator—at which time it would rocket forward, exhaust blaring loud enough to drown out a Manowar concert, while the cops in the vicinity gave themselves whiplash trying to find the Challenger, Camaro, or Mustang making all that noise.

The 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition is nearly the exact opposite. It’s a sedan, with bulging bodywork finished in matte-black paint. The dash and doors are slathered in carbon-fiber trim. The rock-hard racing seats are wrapped in ebony leather, as is the bulk of the dash, all highlighted with miles of bright-yellow contrast stitching. It’s the sort of interior a billionaire bumblebee might commission.

And the hardware under the hood is brilliant: A 4.0-liter V-8 with a pair of turbochargers that boost it up to 603 hp. I thought I’d miss the big cubes of the old E63, but no, no, no—not only is this one faster (0-60 in 3.3 seconds, says Mercedes-AMG; our colleagues down the hall at Motor Trend timed it at 3.2), but it’s just as loud and every bit as brutal.

The all-wheel-drive E63 S’s nine-speed automatic uses an automated clutch in place of a torque converter in order to maximize the engine’s face-flattening potential. One of the most significant improvements to this all-new version is the easy-to-use launch mode. The outgoing E63 required an incomprehensible sequence of button-pushing and paddle-pulling, but the new car makes it simple: Turn the drive-mode controller to Race, push the brake pedal to the floor, and mat the accelerator. Release the brake, hang on tight, and start thinking up excuses to give the police.

What I’d been told about new the E63 S was that, unlike the older iteration I drove, it wasn’t just a straight-line muscle car. So I made a beeline for my favorite twisty canyon roads, and while the ride out there was miserable—more on that shortly—the drive in the curves was exhilarating. I wish I could give you an Andy Pilgrim-like report of which corners are underdamped and which tires were showing signs of heating up first, but the bald-faced truth is that I pushed the hot-rod Mercedes as fast as I dared on the roads I know best, and the most I could eke out was a wee bit of understeer and a sympathetic screeching from the tires (and I’m pretty sure they were only doing that to make me feel better).

I did get the rear end to step out once, and this required a particularly sharp turn, glass-smooth pavement, and the willingness to soil a perfectly good pair of trousers. It was obvious that however fast I wanted to go, the Mercedes was happy to go faster. With the fear factor approaching a level I’ve not experienced since my high school girlfriend told me a certain recurring biological event had not shown up on its anticipated schedule, I eased back my speed a bit, opened the windows, and enjoyed the lovely burbling and backfiring of the exhaust as it echoed off the canyon walls.

I came away with two key takeaways about the E63 S (I dare not label them as problems, as a better driver might disagree). First was a tendency for the stability control system to trip a little early. Of the three performance driving modes—Sport, Sport Plus, and Race—only the latter uses the stability control’s performance program. Fire into a corner too fast (a bad habit of mine) and it’s easy to trigger just a smidge of understeer, but that smidge is enough to cause the ESC system to dial back the power. Selecting Race mode solved the problem, and those smidges never developed into anything bigger; still, what with the cliff walls on one side and drop-offs on the other, I’d prefer something in the middle between full-on nanny and a liberally-minded track program. This is as good a place as any to note that the E63 S also has a Drift mode, which sends 100 percent of the engine’s power to the rear wheels and requires stability control to be switched fully off. I didn’t dare.

Issue No. 2 is the E63 S is hyper-responsive, as a racing-inspired street car should be, but unless you’re super-smooth on the controls, it’s easy to feed in a bit too much steering, gas, or brake. This has always been a challenge for me, and my early progress up some of the twistier bits was far jerkier than I would care to admit. Good thing I was well within the car’s prodigious handling envelope; goodness knows what my less-than-ideal technique was doing for weight transfer.

Still, despite the fact that it highlighted some of my poorer driving habits, I found the E63 S to be a grin-generating thrill ride. My takeaway from a day of challenging the laws of both traffic and physics is that the E63 S really is a supercar masquerading as a sedan—which makes the $105,000 price tag seem like tremendous value for money.

But as a daily commuter, it’s pretty rough.

The problem with the E63 S is that it drives in tuned-up mode all the time. The steering is heavy enough to fatigue your arms. The suspension merely takes the edge off of sharper bumps, as if it was fulfilling the minimum standards of care required by law but refusing to do anything else. And the seats—don’t even get me started. The front buckets are meanly padded and rock hard, and I spent the better part of my day trying, and failing, to find a comfortable adjustment. In all fairness, seat comfort was less of an issue after my hot-rod curvy-road drive, but that may have been afterglow—or perhaps the forces of acceleration had temporarily remolded my spine to the seat’s unforgiving contours.

Were I reading this review instead of writing it, I suspect I’d be screaming at the screen right about now: “If it drives like a supercar, of course it rides like crap!” Fair point—but this is a German supercar, and furthermore it’s got an air suspension and electric power steering. I submit that AMG’s engineers could have made the car just as talented in Sport and Race modes while providing a “Comfort” mode that was actually comfortable. They could have turned up the power-steering boost. They could have softened the ride. They could have put just a wee bit more padding in the seats.

But they didn’t.

The E63 S is harsher than it needs to be in its tamest setting, a little less comfortable, a little more tedious to drive to the office. It’s as if the engineers are jealous of your ability to afford this amazing car, and were determined to punish you for it.

In an ideal world, I would own a Mercedes-AMG E63 S. I would have it waiting at the foot of my favorite curvy canyon road, engine warmed up, in Race mode—primed and ready for attack. And in that same ideal world, I’d have a 10-year-old E63 wagon to commute between my house and the car.

2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $105,395/$145,160 (base/as tested) ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbocharged DOHC 32-valve V-8/603 hp @ 5,750-6,500 rpm, 627 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 196.4 x 81.3 x 56.6 in WHEELBASE 115.7 in WEIGHT 4,515 lb 0-60 MPH 3.3 sec TOP SPEED 186 mph

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[eddiejpoplar]

Quick Take: 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition

MALIBU, California — The last time I drove a Mercedes E63 AMG was about 10 years ago, before there was even a Mercedes-AMG. It was a blue station wagon complete with roof rack and seven seats, cream-colored leather interior, AARP-grade wood trim—and AMG’s wicked 6.2-liter 507-hp V-8 lurking under hood. It was the ultimate sleeper, both visually and experientially, conducting itself with all the grace and poise of an E-Class until you floored the accelerator—at which time it would rocket forward, exhaust blaring loud enough to drown out a Manowar concert, while the cops in the vicinity gave themselves whiplash trying to find the Challenger, Camaro, or Mustang making all that noise.

The 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition is nearly the exact opposite. It’s a sedan, with bulging bodywork finished in matte-black paint. The dash and doors are slathered in carbon-fiber trim. The rock-hard racing seats are wrapped in ebony leather, as is the bulk of the dash, all highlighted with miles of bright-yellow contrast stitching. It’s the sort of interior a billionaire bumblebee might commission.

And the hardware under the hood is brilliant: A 4.0-liter V-8 with a pair of turbochargers that boost it up to 603 hp. I thought I’d miss the big cubes of the old E63, but no, no, no—not only is this one faster (0-60 in 3.3 seconds, says Mercedes-AMG; our colleagues down the hall at Motor Trend timed it at 3.2), but it’s just as loud and every bit as brutal.

The all-wheel-drive E63 S’s nine-speed automatic uses an automated clutch in place of a torque converter in order to maximize the engine’s face-flattening potential. One of the most significant improvements to this all-new version is the easy-to-use launch mode. The outgoing E63 required an incomprehensible sequence of button-pushing and paddle-pulling, but the new car makes it simple: Turn the drive-mode controller to Race, push the brake pedal to the floor, and mat the accelerator. Release the brake, hang on tight, and start thinking up excuses to give the police.

What I’d been told about new the E63 S was that, unlike the older iteration I drove, it wasn’t just a straight-line muscle car. So I made a beeline for my favorite twisty canyon roads, and while the ride out there was miserable—more on that shortly—the drive in the curves was exhilarating. I wish I could give you an Andy Pilgrim-like report of which corners are underdamped and which tires were showing signs of heating up first, but the bald-faced truth is that I pushed the hot-rod Mercedes as fast as I dared on the roads I know best, and the most I could eke out was a wee bit of understeer and a sympathetic screeching from the tires (and I’m pretty sure they were only doing that to make me feel better).

I did get the rear end to step out once, and this required a particularly sharp turn, glass-smooth pavement, and the willingness to soil a perfectly good pair of trousers. It was obvious that however fast I wanted to go, the Mercedes was happy to go faster. With the fear factor approaching a level I’ve not experienced since my high school girlfriend told me a certain recurring biological event had not shown up on its anticipated schedule, I eased back my speed a bit, opened the windows, and enjoyed the lovely burbling and backfiring of the exhaust as it echoed off the canyon walls.

I came away with two key takeaways about the E63 S (I dare not label them as problems, as a better driver might disagree). First was a tendency for the stability control system to trip a little early. Of the three performance driving modes—Sport, Sport Plus, and Race—only the latter uses the stability control’s performance program. Fire into a corner too fast (a bad habit of mine) and it’s easy to trigger just a smidge of understeer, but that smidge is enough to cause the ESC system to dial back the power. Selecting Race mode solved the problem, and those smidges never developed into anything bigger; still, what with the cliff walls on one side and drop-offs on the other, I’d prefer something in the middle between full-on nanny and a liberally-minded track program. This is as good a place as any to note that the E63 S also has a Drift mode, which sends 100 percent of the engine’s power to the rear wheels and requires stability control to be switched fully off. I didn’t dare.

Issue No. 2 is the E63 S is hyper-responsive, as a racing-inspired street car should be, but unless you’re super-smooth on the controls, it’s easy to feed in a bit too much steering, gas, or brake. This has always been a challenge for me, and my early progress up some of the twistier bits was far jerkier than I would care to admit. Good thing I was well within the car’s prodigious handling envelope; goodness knows what my less-than-ideal technique was doing for weight transfer.

Still, despite the fact that it highlighted some of my poorer driving habits, I found the E63 S to be a grin-generating thrill ride. My takeaway from a day of challenging the laws of both traffic and physics is that the E63 S really is a supercar masquerading as a sedan—which makes the $105,000 price tag seem like tremendous value for money.

But as a daily commuter, it’s pretty rough.

The problem with the E63 S is that it drives in tuned-up mode all the time. The steering is heavy enough to fatigue your arms. The suspension merely takes the edge off of sharper bumps, as if it was fulfilling the minimum standards of care required by law but refusing to do anything else. And the seats—don’t even get me started. The front buckets are meanly padded and rock hard, and I spent the better part of my day trying, and failing, to find a comfortable adjustment. In all fairness, seat comfort was less of an issue after my hot-rod curvy-road drive, but that may have been afterglow—or perhaps the forces of acceleration had temporarily remolded my spine to the seat’s unforgiving contours.

Were I reading this review instead of writing it, I suspect I’d be screaming at the screen right about now: “If it drives like a supercar, of course it rides like crap!” Fair point—but this is a German supercar, and furthermore it’s got an air suspension and electric power steering. I submit that AMG’s engineers could have made the car just as talented in Sport and Race modes while providing a “Comfort” mode that was actually comfortable. They could have turned up the power-steering boost. They could have softened the ride. They could have put just a wee bit more padding in the seats.

But they didn’t.

The E63 S is harsher than it needs to be in its tamest setting, a little less comfortable, a little more tedious to drive to the office. It’s as if the engineers are jealous of your ability to afford this amazing car, and were determined to punish you for it.

In an ideal world, I would own a Mercedes-AMG E63 S. I would have it waiting at the foot of my favorite curvy canyon road, engine warmed up, in Race mode—primed and ready for attack. And in that same ideal world, I’d have a 10-year-old E63 wagon to commute between my house and the car.

2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $105,395/$145,160 (base/as tested) ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbocharged DOHC 32-valve V-8/603 hp @ 5,750-6,500 rpm, 627 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 196.4 x 81.3 x 56.6 in WHEELBASE 115.7 in WEIGHT 4,515 lb 0-60 MPH 3.3 sec TOP SPEED 186 mph

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[jonathanbelloblog]

Quick Take: 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition

MALIBU, California — The last time I drove a Mercedes E63 AMG was about 10 years ago, before there was even a Mercedes-AMG. It was a blue station wagon complete with roof rack and seven seats, cream-colored leather interior, AARP-grade wood trim—and AMG’s wicked 6.2-liter 507-hp V-8 lurking under hood. It was the ultimate sleeper, both visually and experientially, conducting itself with all the grace and poise of an E-Class until you floored the accelerator—at which time it would rocket forward, exhaust blaring loud enough to drown out a Manowar concert, while the cops in the vicinity gave themselves whiplash trying to find the Challenger, Camaro, or Mustang making all that noise.

The 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S First Edition is nearly the exact opposite. It’s a sedan, with bulging bodywork finished in matte-black paint. The dash and doors are slathered in carbon-fiber trim. The rock-hard racing seats are wrapped in ebony leather, as is the bulk of the dash, all highlighted with miles of bright-yellow contrast stitching. It’s the sort of interior a billionaire bumblebee might commission.

And the hardware under the hood is brilliant: A 4.0-liter V-8 with a pair of turbochargers that boost it up to 603 hp. I thought I’d miss the big cubes of the old E63, but no, no, no—not only is this one faster (0-60 in 3.3 seconds, says Mercedes-AMG; our colleagues down the hall at Motor Trend timed it at 3.2), but it’s just as loud and every bit as brutal.

The all-wheel-drive E63 S’s nine-speed automatic uses an automated clutch in place of a torque converter in order to maximize the engine’s face-flattening potential. One of the most significant improvements to this all-new version is the easy-to-use launch mode. The outgoing E63 required an incomprehensible sequence of button-pushing and paddle-pulling, but the new car makes it simple: Turn the drive-mode controller to Race, push the brake pedal to the floor, and mat the accelerator. Release the brake, hang on tight, and start thinking up excuses to give the police.

What I’d been told about new the E63 S was that, unlike the older iteration I drove, it wasn’t just a straight-line muscle car. So I made a beeline for my favorite twisty canyon roads, and while the ride out there was miserable—more on that shortly—the drive in the curves was exhilarating. I wish I could give you an Andy Pilgrim-like report of which corners are underdamped and which tires were showing signs of heating up first, but the bald-faced truth is that I pushed the hot-rod Mercedes as fast as I dared on the roads I know best, and the most I could eke out was a wee bit of understeer and a sympathetic screeching from the tires (and I’m pretty sure they were only doing that to make me feel better).

I did get the rear end to step out once, and this required a particularly sharp turn, glass-smooth pavement, and the willingness to soil a perfectly good pair of trousers. It was obvious that however fast I wanted to go, the Mercedes was happy to go faster. With the fear factor approaching a level I’ve not experienced since my high school girlfriend told me a certain recurring biological event had not shown up on its anticipated schedule, I eased back my speed a bit, opened the windows, and enjoyed the lovely burbling and backfiring of the exhaust as it echoed off the canyon walls.

I came away with two key takeaways about the E63 S (I dare not label them as problems, as a better driver might disagree). First was a tendency for the stability control system to trip a little early. Of the three performance driving modes—Sport, Sport Plus, and Race—only the latter uses the stability control’s performance program. Fire into a corner too fast (a bad habit of mine) and it’s easy to trigger just a smidge of understeer, but that smidge is enough to cause the ESC system to dial back the power. Selecting Race mode solved the problem, and those smidges never developed into anything bigger; still, what with the cliff walls on one side and drop-offs on the other, I’d prefer something in the middle between full-on nanny and a liberally-minded track program. This is as good a place as any to note that the E63 S also has a Drift mode, which sends 100 percent of the engine’s power to the rear wheels and requires stability control to be switched fully off. I didn’t dare.

Issue No. 2 is the E63 S is hyper-responsive, as a racing-inspired street car should be, but unless you’re super-smooth on the controls, it’s easy to feed in a bit too much steering, gas, or brake. This has always been a challenge for me, and my early progress up some of the twistier bits was far jerkier than I would care to admit. Good thing I was well within the car’s prodigious handling envelope; goodness knows what my less-than-ideal technique was doing for weight transfer.

Still, despite the fact that it highlighted some of my poorer driving habits, I found the E63 S to be a grin-generating thrill ride. My takeaway from a day of challenging the laws of both traffic and physics is that the E63 S really is a supercar masquerading as a sedan—which makes the $105,000 price tag seem like tremendous value for money.

But as a daily commuter, it’s pretty rough.

The problem with the E63 S is that it drives in tuned-up mode all the time. The steering is heavy enough to fatigue your arms. The suspension merely takes the edge off of sharper bumps, as if it was fulfilling the minimum standards of care required by law but refusing to do anything else. And the seats—don’t even get me started. The front buckets are meanly padded and rock hard, and I spent the better part of my day trying, and failing, to find a comfortable adjustment. In all fairness, seat comfort was less of an issue after my hot-rod curvy-road drive, but that may have been afterglow—or perhaps the forces of acceleration had temporarily remolded my spine to the seat’s unforgiving contours.

Were I reading this review instead of writing it, I suspect I’d be screaming at the screen right about now: “If it drives like a supercar, of course it rides like crap!” Fair point—but this is a German supercar, and furthermore it’s got an air suspension and electric power steering. I submit that AMG’s engineers could have made the car just as talented in Sport and Race modes while providing a “Comfort” mode that was actually comfortable. They could have turned up the power-steering boost. They could have softened the ride. They could have put just a wee bit more padding in the seats.

But they didn’t.

The E63 S is harsher than it needs to be in its tamest setting, a little less comfortable, a little more tedious to drive to the office. It’s as if the engineers are jealous of your ability to afford this amazing car, and were determined to punish you for it.

In an ideal world, I would own a Mercedes-AMG E63 S. I would have it waiting at the foot of my favorite curvy canyon road, engine warmed up, in Race mode—primed and ready for attack. And in that same ideal world, I’d have a 10-year-old E63 wagon to commute between my house and the car.

2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $105,395/$145,160 (base/as tested) ENGINE 4.0L twin-turbocharged DOHC 32-valve V-8/603 hp @ 5,750-6,500 rpm, 627 lb-ft @ 2,500-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 196.4 x 81.3 x 56.6 in WHEELBASE 115.7 in WEIGHT 4,515 lb 0-60 MPH 3.3 sec TOP SPEED 186 mph

IFTTT