#but.... yeah!! here!! throws this at you @ 90 mph.

[pavus]

kinktober day 3 : domination & submission. volotramp's bg3 kinktober prompts. ship : rosalind redwright x enver gortash. rating : explicit. words : 1312.

“Open.” Rosalind sucked in a sharp breath as the head of Gortash’s cane rapped against her unarmored knee. Her foot slid outward on reflex, the sole of her boot catching against a wrinkle in the rug stretched out beneath them both. She yanked the offending limb back and spread her legs as instructed, her fingers curling around her seat’s smooth wooden edge. In her eyes, there was not so much as a flicker of stubbornness; there was only honey, warmed by the fire and drowning in the endless black of her pupils. 

Gortash stepped between her thighs. His broad figure cut away at the radiant light of the carefully tended fireplace, cloaking her in shadow. Still, there was enough light for her to peer up at him and see the parts of his face she’d committed to memory long ago – his long nose down to its rounded tip, his dark and densely lashed eyes, the rounded curve of his chin. 

Her lips parted.

She wanted to kiss him, but that was not part of this game.

“Have a thought, do you?” Gortash asked. He tossed his cane upwards, catching it closer to its hooked, filigreed head. The gold was cool against her jaw, but only for a moment. Its surface warmed against her flushed skin. “We discussed the parameters of this meeting of ours hours ago, hero.”

The way he wielded that word against her like a knife made some greedy thing inside of her throb.

“Give yourself to me,” he repeated. His voice couldn’t have been farther from a seductive purr. Instead, his words were precise and tenderly laid, utterly diplomatic. He spoke to her as one would speak to a particularly voracious merchant – a familiar tone that sent a tingle down the curved length of her spine. “And in return, I will give you some measure of relief.”

Rosalind nodded, her gaze falling to where he stood between her legs. A lock of ginger hair loosed itself from her bun only to brush her forehead like the calming thumb of a lover.

She understood. He knew that she understood.

“Good.” This time, Gortash purred like a kitten. “Look at me, Ros.”

Gripping at the edge of her chair, she did as she was told. She leaned her jaw against the head of his cane and peered up at him to find a pair of hungry eyes staring down at her. The rounded curve of his jaw tightened as he set his teeth together, just as his chest rose and fell as he fought to keep his own composure as he looked at her. She saw him falter, felt the head of his cane press more sharply against her cheek. It forced one of her eyes shut.

“Pretty thing,” Gortash exhaled, slowly picking himself back up, slowly piecing himself back together. Watching his laces tighten was intoxicating. Rosalind felt her blood thicken in her veins. “Use your hands to unlace your trousers.”

The fire on the far side of the room felt as if it stood right beside her, flames licking at her knuckles as they bled of color under the grip she held on the seat of her chair. Too warm. She was too warm. Her thighs shifted, knees eager to press inwards on each other to protect her vulnerable center, but with Gortash standing between them, such a thing was impossible.

He laughed. The sound made her stomach bottom out.

“That isn’t what I said.”

He was right. It hadn’t been his instruction. What had been? How had she already lost the plot? No –

Rosalind’s hands lifted from the edge of her seat. The shape had bitten into the cup of her palm, leaving reddened skin behind. Blood rushed down into her trembling fingertips as she brought both hands up to her waist. He told her to unlace her trousers. That was easily done.

She leaned her head down to look at the meticulously tied bow, but all she caught was a glimpse before the head of his cane pushed against her chin, forcing her head back up in the direction of his face. “No peeking,” he murmured to her, a damning grin smearing across his full lips as she shifted fitfully on the chair. He knew her fingers were stumbling. 

Her brows pinched sharply together. She couldn’t unlace the bow; she couldn’t find the origin of the knot, not without looking at it.

“Tell me, Ros,” Gortash continued. As he spoke, the intricately molded head of his cane rubbed up and down the underside of her chin, down the length of her throat, then back again. “If I help, I will make things more difficult for you. Are you willing?”

She tried again. Failed again.

Rosalind looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Speak,” he allowed.

She swallowed hard and grimaced, nudging the cane away before responding with an eager, “Yes.”

“Hold my cane.” Again, she did as she was commanded. The body of his can was warm where he’d held it, as if his hands were burning as hot as her own. He did not linger upon the moment before he reached down with both hands, his knee leaning on the chair between her thighs as he curled over her. The laces fell apart beneath agile fingers.  “How embarrassing for you to require assistance with such a simple task.” The breath that left her shook on her parted lips. He was close – near enough for her to smell the musk and black cherry and clove of his perfume, near enough for her to smell the wine he’d fruitlessly offered her, near enough for her to smell the oil on the gloves he’d tucked into his jacket pocket when she arrived. He was near enough to kiss.

“Thank you,” Rosalind whispered, “for your help.”

Surprise gleamed in his dark eyes. Even still, even after so many years of smiles and thank yous, they shocked him into silence for a moment that stretched on painfully long. He did not know what to do with her. She did not know what to do with him. Other than this.

His hand curled around the one she used to hold onto his cane. The grip he used was an uncomfortable one, but she made no attempt to wriggle free. Rosalind simply stared up at him, their noses nearly touching, wanting nothing more than to bridge the gap between them and feel the pressure of his mouth against hers, if only for a moment. Such a flagrant streak of disobedience would require punishment.

Gortash slipped his cane from her grip and cast it aside, chuckling when Rosalind jumped at the clatter it made against the floor. And then his hand was on her – not the cane, not her laces, but her.

There was hardly enough room for him between the stiff fabric of her trousers and the soft flesh beneath, but still, he forced his way in, shoving past her underwear and diving sharply downward. His fingers deftly split her lips before finding the bud between them. 

How many times had he touched her in such a way? How many times had he used his callused fingertips to toy with her until he brought her off? Each time was slightly different. Each time was perfect.

Suddenly, the word difficult blazed through her mind.

Rosalind sucked in a startled gasp as Gortash pinched her clit sharply between his middle and forefinger.

Pain was not pain any longer, not to her. Her thighs shook.

He leaned forward. The width of his body pushed her flush to the tall back of her chair. Nose buried deep into her hair, she heard him take in a deep breath, smelling her, swallowing down the surge of arousal that threatened to wring the wind from his lungs. 

“You will try harder to heed me next time.”  “Yes,” Rosalind exhaled. “Yes.”

[spaceskam]

our fainted thrill carries on (13/13)

omg i can’t believe i’m finished. special thanks to @insidious-intent who made me think writing this was a good idea in the first place i love you

ao3

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up, I swear to God.”

Michael grinned helplessly as Alex pressed closer, the sleeping bag pinned over their head as if that concealed the fact they were kissing in the bed of the truck while Cam went 90 mph down the interstate. 

He’d tried to heal Alex and done a pretty half-assed job at it, the cut still visible, but bleeding significantly less. It would probably leave a scar, but apparently the whole fact that Michael had done anything at all and that, in a few hours, he’d have a handprint on his skin that his father couldn’t ignore was enough to make some of his anger melt away. It subsided enough for some celebratory kisses that were tiny promises that this, they, weren’t over. When they got home, they would talk more and Alex would have free reign to his emotions so he could feel how much he loved him. Then they could build that trust up again.

But the brand was still there. For that, Michael was sorry.

“We still have to go to Max. Maria called to tell me Liz was freaking out,” Michael told him, ending a series of kisses but not moving the sleeping bag even though it didn’t smell great. Alex nodded, reaching to grab his cheeks again to kiss him one, twice, three more times before ending it by rubbing their noses together. Michael really shouldn’t have been smiling so wide, all things considered, but he couldn’t help it.

“This doesn’t mean we’re back to normal, by the way,” Alex clarified, his thumb carefully rubbing over his jaw, “I’m still frustrated with you. I just am really fucking glad you came. Even if you were stupid about it.”

“I know,” Michael whispered, still smiling.

Normal. What they had before, living together and having meals together and going grocery shopping together and just co-existing in every way, that was normal. That was their normal. Michael wanted to scream that from the fucking rooftops.

“I love you,” Michael told him. Alex grinned slightly, his hand sliding over his chest.

“I can feel that you do,” he whispered, his good leg sliding between Michael’s, “You should get better at this whole handprint thing. I could get used to feeling you like this.”

Michael’s eyes scanned over his face to see that he was deadly serious. A childish grin overcame his face and Alex rolled his eyes.

“I love you,” Michael responded pathetically. Alex grinned, lips parting slightly so Michael could feel his breath on his lips. Despite the fact he hadn’t brushed his teeth since the night before, Michael couldn’t be bothered to be disgusted.

“Keep saying that.”

“I will.”

Michael was almost jealous of the fact that Alex could just tap into his feelings so easily. Were they just that loud or was he just that in tune with him or was it both? It didn’t matter. Michael wanted to feel the same thing from him. Unfortunately, it was a one-way street.

But Alex’s I-Just-Got-Kidnapped kisses were a two-way street and that was good enough.

-

“What the hell?”

“Couldn’t we have dropped him off first?”

Alex, with a little help from Michael, climbed off the bed of the truck and onto the sand. Cam had gone straight to the mines which was objectively bad since his father was still with them. Alex was going to have to deal with that later. Amongst other things. He’d had his prosthetic leg on for far too long and, despite being held by Michael under a sleeping back for hours, he was so cold he was almost numb. Kyle, still shirtless, seemed to be suffering a similar fate.

Michael seemed to read his mind though and reached into the cab of the truck and pulled out a shirt that was stuffed behind the seat, throwing it at Kyle. He accepted it with gracious hands.

“Well, considering Liz has been blowing up all of our phones for hours, I’m going with no,” Cam said cooly. Alex sighed, mindlessly rubbing his arm that was especially hot. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cut, the brand, or the handprint that was causing the heat. He was hoping it was the handprint.

As if on cue, Liz ran out towards them. It was almost poetic to see her running, dried tears on her face glistening under the sunset. She basically bodyslammed into Michael, desperately clinging to him. He hugged her back just as tight and Alex could feel all the care he had for her. God, he was going to struggle with keeping his mind on straight with all of those feelings Michael seemed to be constantly overwhelmed with. Alex didn’t know how he survived with all of them on the surface like that.

“Oh, thank god,” Liz breathed, sniffling as she slowly peeled off him and gave Kyle a similarly desperate hug. Then she dragged both of them inside the cave. 

Alex looked over at Cam and then they both looked to his father. He was clearly confused, but it was controlled to not be too obvious. Alex wasn’t sure about what to do with him. He didn’t really want him to enter the cave. He didn’t want him to see the pod or get any more information than necessary. But, still, the part of him that had just witnessed his dad actually help almost wanted him to see all of it. He wanted his dad to see that these aliens had feelings. That they were loved and could love. But he had to know that already, right? Michael had gone out of his way to bring Jesse along just to save him. He had to know.

“Let’s wait out here,” Alex decided on. As much as he wanted to be by Michael’s side, there were somethings he could do alone. This would just have to be one of them.

“Let me see your arm,” Cam told Alex. He reluctantly complied, sparing his father a glance. Jesse upturned his nose.

“God, I can’t believe you let it do that to you,” he said, sighing and shaking his head like it wasn’t actually all that hard to believe.

“You went all that way to help him get me. Why’d you do that if you’re so disgusted? Why help me at all?” Alex wondered as Cam grabbed her bag and poured alcohol over the cut to clean it. Alex was pretty sure that Michael’s handprint had sterilized it enough, but it better safe than sorry he supposed.  His dad shook his head.

“You think I went willingly?” Jesse asked. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“You helped willingly. You helped save me,” Alex said. 

“And let them hold over me for years to come that they got the better of one of my sons? Maybe if you used any shred of common sense you wouldn’t have been a target in the first place,” Jesse said, the military voice in full force.  Alex felt like a little boy again listening to it. “You’re still going to be a target, you do know that, don’t you? They run on a ton of bullshit ideology, but as long as you’re siding with those creatures, you’re still a target. You’ll die a target. I can’t be there to help you through every mistake.”

“You have never helped me through a mistake,” Alex scoffed, “You’ve never helped me at all, not unless it was for your own gain.”

“Self-preservation, Alex,” his dad said, “You could learn a thing or two if you had any.”

Jesse’s eyes focused on the cave. Alex knew that he couldn’t let him see anything that went on in there. He wasn’t all better or suddenly caring. He was still the same.

He would always be the same.

But that posed a problem. He was here. If he saw Max Evans stumble out, there would be a problem. Him being here at all was a problem. He was seeing more than Alex was comfortable with. They needed to do something.

Alex looked up and locked eyes with Cam.

-

Chaos was Michael’s best friend.

He was listening to everything that Liz was saying, but he wasn’t really retaining anything. Instead, he was trying to focus on that while also taking in Maria who stood in a wide-eyed daze while trying to comfort Isobel who had tear stains on her face and Kyle who was diligently laying out medical supplies. More than that, though, his mind echoed with Max’s thoughts. He was in the pod, yes, but they’d done something wrong and he was damn near boiling with power. Michael couldn’t focus. No wonder Isobel was crying.

Save me, Michael, his voice said, alluring like a siren in all the worst ways, don’t keep me locked in this cage.

“Michael!” Liz snapped. Michael managed to give her a little more of his attention despite his clouded mind. She was crying and stressed, but she forced a little smile as she placed her hands on his cheeks to help get him to focus on her a little more. “He needs you and I need you, so I need to know that we’re okay. I know we’ve been working together, but we haven’t really talked. We’re friends again, right?”

The words felt disjointed and out of place and Michael felt like he missed a few steps. Didn’t she get in a fight with Alex, not him? Or, was he an extension of that? Was that how this worked now?

Alex Manes, Max whispered in his mind, Alex Manes, Alex Manes, Alex Manes. 

Michael tried to shake the voice out of his head as he said, “Yeah, Liz, we’re good.” She forced a smile and sniffled, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m gonna be a better friend once this is all over,” she insisted, “Thank you for sticking with me.”

He tried to remember what she’d told him. Apparently, he ejected himself from the pod and blew the fuse of the battery Michael had rigged up to him, but he was struggling to breathe when he came out. Liz had panicked and shoved him back in until she could get Michale and Kyle to come help, but Max wasn’t happy about it. Hence the dragging Isobel and Maria. He wondered if Max was in their minds too. And, if he was, was he saying the same things? Could they hear him taunting him about Alex or was he special?

“What do you need me to do?” Michael asked. Liz let him out of the hug.

“I need you to stabilize him when he comes out after Kyle clears his airway,” she said, “There was something… wrong.”

“Yeah, there’s something wrong,” he agreed. Liz patted his cheeks and gave him an encouraging smile. 

“Let’s do this.”

It was hard to say exactly what happened next.

Michael went to pull him out of the pod, but he seemed to meet him halfway. Then Max was on the ground, gasping for air as he reached for Michael. It felt like something out of a horror movie. Then Kyle was in front of him. Then there was a blinding light that seemed to come from inside his own head while Isobel and Maria both cried out in pain behind his ears ringing.

It was all blurry, yes, but Michael was feeling a little extra powerful and he had Alex to thank for that. He had something to live for, something to fight for, and he forced his mind to clear enough to be of some use. 

Max was standing like he was in some cheesy superhero movie, heavy breathing and threatening. His skin seemed to be glowing with electricity, a visible layer of static covering him. He looked angry and, in Michael’s head, he was nothing but white noise. But off to the side were two psychics, both telepaths and empaths in their own right. If Michael was hearing headache-inducing white noise, what were they hearing and feeling?

Michael put himself between Max and Isobel and Maria, hoping to create some sort of barrier. He focused on his telekinesis and tried to use it to create another layer.

“Max!” Liz called, stepping in front of Michael, “It’s okay!”

But it wasn’t okay. He was boiling with power and he seemed to be happy about it. It was a direct mirror of the bullshit he’d pulled with Noah, only there was no bad guy here. He was going to hurt someone he cared about.

Michael did a scan of the cave. Isobel was on her knees and Maria was in a ball, both of them with their arms wrapped around their heads. Kyle was catching his breath on the ground, startled and overwhelmed. Liz was trying to talk to him. And Max was… not in the right headspace.

It was a quick decision after that. Max lifted his hands towards Liz, looking like he was going to do something he couldn’t come back from. Michael pulled her out of the way and pushed his hands in Max’s direction, effectively throwing him out of the cave. 

“Oh my god,” Liz breathed, but Michael barely heard her. He turned to Maria and Isobel, dropping to his knees to check over them. They were both crying and looked like they were in so much pain and there was nothing he could do. 

Well, almost nothing. He pulled them both into his arms, disregarding any complicated feelings he had. He held them, a face pressed into each of his shoulders as he focused on them regaining their breath. He whispered soft words of encouragement. It’s gonna be alright, I’ll get stuff to help your head, it’s gonna be okay, we’ll figure it out, don’t worry.

The peace of that lasted all of fifteen seconds before he realized he‘d thrown his supervillain brother right to the love of his life.

“Kyle,” Michael called, already peeling himself away from them despite how much guilt it gave them, “Kyle, look over them.”

Kyle, who already looked done with the alien bullshit, agreed and made his way towards them. Michael scrambled to his feet and out of the cave. But it seemed he was already too late.

Cam was holding Alex back who was screaming insults and no at Max who had a bolt of electricity connecting from his hand to Jesse Manes’ chest. Michael didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, good riddance. On the other…

“Stop!” Alex yelled, his pretty face so fucking upset as he watched Max kill the only parent he ever knew. 

Max did stop, but it was too late. Jesse Manes fell onto the ground and the night air smelled like burnt flesh. And Max still didn’t seem like he was done. He was grinning and looking for his next target, breathing heavily and looking like the monster Jesse Manes spent his life working against. Alex’s eyes were on his father though, lips parted like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Before things could get any worse though, Liz came out of nowhere and stabbed a syringe into the back of Max’s neck. He slowly fell to the ground and Michael dove to help break his fall. 

“Sedative,” Liz informed him. Michael nodded, his eyes drifting back to his brother. He wanted to hug him and have a reunion, but he could wait until he was actually Max again. Michael’s eyes drifted back up to Alex. “Go check on Isobel and Maria.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed, slowly climbing to his feet. But, instead of going back into the cave, he stumbled towards Alex. He was tired and drained from using his powers to do bigger shit than he was used to, but he needed to check on Alex. 

But Alex was still stared at his father, his face frozen in a state of conflicted shock. Cam was still in front of him and Michael noticed that she was holding him up. He reached out to touch his cheek and that broke his spell, locking eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Michael asked softly. Cam slowly let go of Alex and Michael pulled him into a hug. Alex pressed into him, breathing controlled as he kept himself calm. Michael breathed with him.

Time seemed to both drag and move too quickly. He wanted to hold Alex forever, but that wasn’t an option when the night wasn’t quite over. 

“Switch with me,” Kyle said suddenly, tapping on his shoulder. Michael reluctantly agreed and let Kyle take over with Alex, all but carrying him to the tailgate of the truck so he could doctor his arm and also take his eyes off Jesse.

“I got the body, don’t worry,” Cam told him. He nodded and went back towards the cave, not trying to spare Liz and Max another glance.

Inside the cave, Isobel and Maria sat looking closer to hungover than in actual pain which felt like an improvement. Michael crouched in front of them before swaying a little and deciding to just sit down, criss-crossing his legs. 

“Is Max okay?” Isobel asked. Michael shrugged. “Are you okay? Where were you all day? Why weren’t you here?”

Michael sighed, “Alex got taken, had to go get him.”

“Alex got taken?” Maria asked. Michael managed a smile.

“You seem more shocked by that than the whole alien thing.”

“Well, I gotta be honest, it makes things make sense.”

Michael huffed a laugh as Maria gave a small little smile. 

“Right, you two keep flirting, I’m gonna go check on my brother,” Isobel said. She slowly stumbled to her feet and Michael exerted just a little extra telekinesis to get her to her feet. She gave Michael a warm smile and rustled his hair as she walked past him.

Then it was just them.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked her. Maria sighed but nodded.

“Just a headache now. It was like he fucking wired my brain to everyone else’s and I was standing in the middle of 5 concerts going on, but all thoughts. Was just an overload. I’m okay,” Maria said. Michael nodded slowly. 

“Good, that’s good,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he breathed just like Alex taught him. It helped him feel a little less dizzy. “Maria, I‒”

“Look, I just want you and Alex to be happy. It’s my fault that I didn’t realize that that would only really happen if you two were together,” she said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows considering that was not at all what he was going to say. She smiled at him. “I kinda put that together around Christmas time and Liz told me you two were shacking up, but getting flooded your thoughts today echoed by Max, well… I get it. You two are too obsessed with each other.”

Michael snorted and shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re in a weird place right now, so I don’t know how true that is, but…”

“But you love him and you’re trying.”

With a smile, Michael said, “Yeah.”

“So then it’s all worth it.”

Michael took a deep breath again, letting that sink in a little more. He knew he didn’t need permission to be with Alex, but it sure as hell felt good not to feel like he needed to feel guilty for something. He wondered if she talked to Alex. And, if not, maybe he could make that happen.

“So, I don’t know what they told you,” Michael started, eying her slightly, “But Rosa’s at Alex’s cabin.”

He saw a million different emotions flush over Maria’s face before it landed on something that looked like relief. Tears slowly filled her eyes and her lips parted as she breathed in heavily.

“You… you mean she…”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “There’s a lot of space out there and with both of us trying to stay away from booze, it works out.” Maria swallowed harshly. “Do… do you wanna come see her?”

“Is that a fucking question? Yes, of course, I do,” Maria said, dropping her leg to kick him. Michael smiled easily. 

“Okay,” he said, extending his leg just enough to kick her right back. She sniffled with a smile and wiped her face. They both slowly started making their way to their feet, laughing a little when it took longer than it should’ve.

“I want you to know I’m pissed that you hid Rosa from me, but I’m tired and want to see her and I’ll yell at you later,” Maria warned. Michael snorted as they found their footing.

“Somehow not the first time I’ve heard a speech like that today.”

When they made their way out of the cave, Isobel was chugging acetone beside Max’s unconscious body, Cam was already stuffing the body into the backseat of Isobel’s SUV, and Kyle was standing between Alex’s knees at the tailgate with their foreheads pressed together. Michael felt a little pinch of jealousy, but he buried it easily. Still, he went right up to them.

“Your dad was a dick, Alex,” Kyle whispered. Michael reached out to put a hand on Alex’s back in silent solidarity. Alex spared him a little look and a smile but didn’t separate from Kyle. 

“It’s kinda poetic though, isn’t it? He spent his life saying they were deadly,” Alex said, sighing heavily, “Can’t help but feel like his dying act was him being proved right.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. 

“You didn’t kill him.”

“Yeah, but I threw Max out here knowing he was dangerous,” Michael said. Alex shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said softly, “I didn’t know what to do with him anyway, he saw too much. Problem solved.”

There wasn’t much to say after that. They sat there for a moment before Alex took a deep breath and sat up straight. Kyle leaned back just a little and Alex squeezed his arm. Michael rubbed Alex’s back still.

“I need to get home. My leg is fucking killing me,” Alex said. Michael nodded.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Kyle, come with me, I called Flint,” Cam said, “Let’s take care of it.”

“Are you good, Alex?” Kyle asked, leaning to lock eyes with him. Alex nodded.

“Yeah, just come to the cabin when you guys are done if you can, so I know you two are okay,” Alex suggested and Michael smiled. It was stupid and really not the time, but there was something about Alex asking for what he wanted that made him feel good.

By the time Kyle and Cam were driving off, Liz and Isobel were putting Max into the backseat of Liz’s car. 

“What’s the plan?” Michael asked, leaving Alex’s side reluctantly. Maria started helping him into the cab of the truck. 

“Well, we’re gonna take him home. Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll be better,” Liz said. 

“And what if he freaks out on you two and hurts one of you?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. We’re gonna alien-proof his bedroom until further notice,” Isobel said, smiling a little too proud. Michael rolled his eyes, but he nodded his head. 

“Do you need me to come?” Michael offered. Isobel breathed heavily and shook her head, coming closer and wrapping him up in her arms. Michael easily melted into her hug. It was a safe place after a fucking terrible day. 

“Go home with your man. You’re no help with us until he wakes up,” Isobel told him. He nodded and she kissed his cheek, surely leaving a red lipstick print but he didn’t mind. “I love you, stay safe, text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

-

“We’ll leave you two to it.”

Alex didn’t mean to be rude, but he was hurting and tired. Besides, Maria and Rosa would be just great without his presence. The plan was they would spend the night in the bunker and Alex would take Maria home before work the following day. That gave them a ton of hours to bond.

Michael followed Alex to his bedroom.

“Do you need me to do anything? Run you a bath? Wash your clothes? Take a shower so I don’t smell bad?” Michael wondered. Alex sat on the bench at the foot of his bed and looked up at where he was hovering in the doorway. He wasn’t quite sure if he was welcome.

But Alex could still feel him unabashedly pulsing with dedication beneath his skin. The handprint was hidden by gauze, but that didn’t mean it was gone. And, tonight, he just wanted to get lost in that instead of the other bullshit. Michael loved him, he was sure of that, and they were on the same page this time. He knew that for sure. The handprint was proof.

“C’mere,” Alex said. Michael moved closer and Alex grabbed his arm whenever he was in reach, pulling him down for a kiss that didn’t last long. It was more of an excuse to have him close. “We both need showers.”

“We could take one together?”

“There’s nothing sexy about my shower chair,” Alex said. Michael grinned and shrugged a shoulder.

“So?”

They made their way to the bathroom and slowly started to strip, aching muscles catching up to them now that the adrenaline was gone pretty much completely. Alex hissed when he took the sleeve off his leg and Michael frowned at the red, irritated limb.

“I’m gonna be out of commission for a little while,” Alex admitted, slowly moving his eyes from his leg up to Michael. He was tired and his hair was flat, but Alex’s eyes were mainly on his hand. “Your bandana is gone.”

Michael looked down to it with confused eyes like he was shocked that it wasn’t where he left it. Alex watched him, waiting for him to get overwhelmed or uncomfortable like he usually did. Instead, he watched as he took a few steadying breaths and then looked back at Alex.

“Guess so.”

“Are you okay?” Alex wondered. Michael blinked once, twice, three times. Alex could feel just how discombobulated he felt, but he seemed like he was neutral. Like it wasn’t his favorite sight, but it didn’t hurt to look at as much as before. It was progress and Alex gave him a small, encouraging smile.

They took a shower in probably the least sexy way. There was no kissing, no touching outside passing soap, no nothing. It was just a shower. And Alex was more in love with him that he had words for. Wasn’t that insane?

They dried off and got dressed, still moving slow as fatigue got heavier and heavier. When they fell into bed, it was hard to even keep their eyes open. But Alex was conscious enough to look at the cameras. No one was there. He settled back to face Michael.

“Hey,” he whispered. Michael’s eyes dragged open. “Were you really gonna exchange that piece for me?”

A sleepy smile found his face and Alex’s heart thudded in his chest. He knew once the handprint faded, he would probably make Michael sleep on the couch until they got back to the proper level of non-handprint-affiliated trust, but right now he was high on this. On them.

“The first night we slept in this bed together, I promised I would kill anyone to keep you safe,” Michael said softly, “And maybe I didn’t kill anyone, but that was the same as saying I would do anything. Including giving up that piece I threw a big fit about. I’m a dick, I know, but you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered. Michael scooted closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Alex.”

“I love you too.”

-

Michael woke up slow and sore, but he assumed Alex was worse so he didn’t focus on it.

The other side of the bed was empty, though, and Michael dragged himself to go find him. He wasn’t in the bathroom, so Michael quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a fresh bandana and made his way towards the living room. Cam and Kyle was on the couch still dead asleep, Cam playing the role of big spoon while being the only thing keeping the doctor on the couch. Michael tip-toed past them to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Alex said, looking up from his coffee with a smile.

“What are you doing up? We could’ve slept in,” Michael said. Alex shrugged.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” he admitted, letting Alex pull him close for another short kiss just because he wanted it, “I’ve got shit to start on anyways. Paperwork to do about my father and I need to go through a more military pathway to figure out what the Camerons are about.”

“What? Alex, you‒”

“Hey,” Alex said, silencing him, “You didn’t see how big of an operation there was. We got out ‘cause you happened to come when the least amount of people were there. It’s not just a little family thing, it’s an organization, okay? I need to stop it to keep you safe. It’ll be okay, I know what I’m dealing with now.”

 Michael eyed him and wanted to protest, but he knew he was right. This was just his duty now. His and Kyle’s and Cam’s. That was just something he would have to accept. So he nodded and grabbed his mug, taking a sip. Alex laughed slightly and took it back.

“Well, how are you feeling about everything else? Your dad?” Michael asked. Alex’s eyes dropped the counter and he shrugged.

“I’ll be okay. Flint’s coming over later to talk about things and tell me what he knows. Without dad looming over him we can kinda team up.”

“Stay safe, please.”

“I will,” Alex agreed, looking back up at him. He grabbed Michael’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the bandana. He looked up at Michael for an explanation and he sort of shrugged. He was working on it. It didn’t feel as haunting, but when his mind was more clear, he didn’t want thoughts of it to fill the space. But Alex kissed over it and that made him feel a little better. “You know what I think you should do today?”

“What’s that?” Michael asked, stepping closer.

“I think you should go talk to Sanders.” Michael’s eyebrows tugged together and Alex smiled despite everything. “I think it would be good to talk about your mother with someone who knew her. You could fill him in on what we learned about her after the fact, if he wants to know, obviously. And you need to understand that he wasn’t intentionally lying to you. He was doing what felt like the right thing.”

Michael groaned and dropped his head against his shoulder, but he knew he was right. Alex typically was. 

So he went and finished getting dressed and brushed his teeth, trying to make himself somewhat presentable in the quickest way possible. He figured he could stop by Max’s after he talked with Sanders too, cover all his bases. That way he could come home without any guilt.

Alex walked him out onto the porch on his crutches and gave him a kiss goodbye. However, Michael barely made it halfway to his truck before he swiftly turned and ran back. If he was going to come back without any guilt, he needed to get something off his chest. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… It’s our time, Alex. I know we’re not great yet, but we’re gonna be. I’m gonna make sure of it. No more lies for real this time,” Michael promised him. Alex’s smile that came next was bigger and more genuine that every smile he’d seen in the last week. It was beautiful and Michael already felt a weight lift off his shoulder.

“I know,” he said.

“We’re gonna have a happy ending this time,” Michael reiterated. Alex bit his bottom lip gently and nodded. 

“Now go and come home to me. I’ll force Kyle to make us lunch,” Alex said. Michael grinned and leaned in for another goodbye kiss.

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“Stay safe.”

The drive to the junkyard was quicker than usual and it had everything to do with Michael feeling better than he had in awhile. Despite all the chaos and the unsure things that laid in his future, he knew a couple things for certain. He wasn’t alone and he would be okay. As long as he tried, he would be okay. 

“Hey, Sanders,” Michael called as he walked up to the old man who was the only father figure he’d ever had and needed, “I was thinking we could talk?”

Sanders gave him a grumpy look that Michael knew as a smile and he was more sure than ever he was on the right path.

Life began now.

“Good idea, son.”

[girlbookwrm]

AVENGERS: CIVIL WAR

THE MIGHTY PRE ENDGAME REWATCH

it took us two entire days to watch this, back in whenever we were watching this. I’ve got a Bundle of Papers here in front of me, and the CW Bundle is by far the thickest, and that’s with minimal salt content.

Speaking of Salt: The Roommate and I had to approach this as an Avengers movie. Because otherwise the salt levels in this would be toxic, possibly fatal. Even so, ppl with high cholesterol be warned

LET’S DO THIS

1991!

Winter Soldier: 

what is this

what is this please

dat beef tho

what is this op sec

honestly

NO mask

SHINY FUCKOFF ARM just HANGING OUT

CCTV???

~ooooooo he’s a ghooooooooooooost~

he’s got an extremely dedicated and very harried cleanup crew is what he’s got

OH! OLD LOGO ILU!!!

LAGOS!!

The Roommate: That’s a lot of sugar

i ain’t judging

what, you think her powers run on optimism?

is there an accent? is there not? Shroedinger’s accent.

droney the drone

sam’s lil sky roomba

i love him

guhhhh this scene every line shows character and growth and i just *clenches fist*

did

did falcon just throw steve

just yeeted him at the enemy?

god i love that

also: has steve bulked up since TWS?

that’s also on Sam, yeah?

CUT THE CHEEEEECCCCK

is this fucking NEUROTOXIN? STEVE WHERE’S UR MASK?

Steve, throwing himself into a room full of an unknown poison gas without a mask: I bet i can survive this

Bucky, in Bucharest: *breaks whatever he’s holding without knowing why*

god i love sam

“I don’t work like that no more” Means ?????????????

PARKOUR NAT

is also BRUNCH MOM NAT

“both grunting” is always one of my favorite subtitles

2 white boys fighting in the middle of the street like it’s a video game

god someone took the murder strut to heart wow that is some. that is some something that’s for sure.

give me even one (1) heterosexual explanation for "your pal your buddy your bucky"

there’s no way that bucky ever said this, right? this is just Rumlow fucking with steve, and the screenwriters fucking with us

because IN CASE YOU WERE NOT IN THIS FANDOM IN 2016, WE ALL THOUGHT CAP WOULD DIE IN THIS MOVIE

WE WERE SO SURE

wow i wonder if that will be relevant to anyone’s emotions here in the year of our lordt 2019

anyway, what bucky actually said was:

“please tell rogers... that he’s a big dumb dildo and he should wear a gas mask and also a parachute.”

listen i love this opening scene but also wanda is not at all responsible for this explosion and the fact that they act like she is undermines my ability to suspend my disbelief.

DIGITAL ENYOUTHENMENT ALERT

also, tony the fact that you are using your literal dead mom as an actual therapist is

wow

BARF feels right to me

too real, tony

it’s too real

how ARE you getting around the strings and taxes tho

Also can i say that i actually love that Pepper’s absence is this profoundly important to the story. The hole where pepper should be is a huge part of this story and i like that. i like that a lot.

WOW THAT EXTRA IS LIKE A MASHUP OF NAT AND WANDA. SHE IS THE GENERIC MARVEL WHITE LADY

more a+ visual storytelling with the elevator

I’m just so mad that they blame wanda and play that straight?

all they had to do was outright acknowledge one (1) time that the media is picking on her because she’s a woman/a foreigner

imagine that speech coming from nat instead of steve

though i do love Steve’s pep talk

again. give me one (1) heterosexual explanation

though why not have Steve say “they’re just bullies, you did the right thing” and hearken back to smolsteeb

The Roommate: Remember how i was mad at his Oscars Velvet Blazer? I am also mad at this sweater.... it looks... so soft... i don’t know if i want it on him or off him... just wanna tuch....... and wear..........?”

Vision’s Ascot is. Something else man.

The Roommate: Why is ross secretary of state?

Me: Why is Trump President

Me: I bet Ross is vegan

the roommate, who has vegan-related trauma: UUUUGGGHHHHHHHH

Nat's reaction to vigilantes: Bitch please. she is Unbothered.

you don’t have to show us footage we’ve got the ptsd nightmares

400 pages in 3 days

[tired american sighing]

we honestly can’t even criticize this plot point anymore just

[my longest and most american sigh]

CLEVELAND!!!

hail hydra continues to be the Most Terrible last words

but WHY does ross have the congressional medal of honor

do you know how HARD it is to get one of those????

yeesh

sassy black friends sassing at each other

is definitely a

thing that is happening rn

Vision: Well Actually

no one cares, vis

ok like

a kid is dead but

3.6 is an okay GPA

maybe all my friends are overachievers

maybe it’s just because most of them are women but like

it’s an okay GPA

i’d have 8000% more respect for Tony if he was more upfront like “look this is on me” especially here

are we supposed to be picking all this up as subtext, actually?

because i know that this movie ALSO had a Troubled Youth ala ant man

and i really do appreciate the Russos for relying on a smart audience but there’s a lot going on

and it’s very obvious to me that they had to shift gears 18,000 times in the script writing phase

so like, you’ve got old man vet steve

but it’s painfully obvious that he missed vietnam right?

like

it’s painfully obvious

and he’s v egotistical and self righteous too 

it IS a battle of the egos

and no one is right

except natasha

Steve: i have to go

me: mood

LONDON!!!!

oh god

oh god no

steve god no steve oh god

gfhskfdjjjksjdjjhrrrrhrhhrhfhh [wailing and rending of garments]

Re Peggy’s age:

SURPRISE IT’S ACTUALLY PLAUSIBLE

so the True Hallmark of a Cap Movie is Peggy telling steve what to do.

so weird to have that in an avengers movie

i do love this. GOOD BRO NAT CONTENT

Um. is vision a minor? is wanda?

again, nat is the only Correct one here

stay together guys

it might be

reeeeeeaaaaally important in 

*checks watch*

two years’ time.

~hug~

VIENNA!!!!!

CHAD WICK! CHAD! WICK! CHAD! WICK!

god i love the xhosa in this

There is a level of worldbuilding in this that we p much only get from the russos/markus&mcfeely. i mean -- internal consistency worldbuilding? if that makes sense? we get a lot of visual worldbuilding in black panther, but this is distinctly different and hard to articulate and it has to do with the way they approach things and how they assume audience intelligence

it just works for me

oh no chadwick boseman don’t be cry

Sharon deserves better

than being cockblocked by her own aunt

and also sam wilson (who also deserves better)

cryptid!bucky

Nat did you get that suit from jenny agutter?

LA Brunch Mom Nat

mah girl

she’s just so tired

steve (bless him) is just so exhausting

couples date sam and steve dressed to match

“at the gym”??? really? the arm is... a bit of a giveaway

i do feel bad for zemo in this one specific case

russian IS hard

how. did he get that in there?

Soft Plumboy Bucky

BEEF

Captain’s Log: Buck’s place is a shithole

Sergeant’s Log: Steve’s face is pretty

surprise bitch

“That’s Smart, Good Strategy” is an excellent phrase to use in everyday conversation in order to weed out who Knows and who Doesn’t.

What i have learned from civil war: 

Captain America is a projectile weapon

further query:

did bucky ever hurl small steve at assailants?

Bucky: *punts steve down an alley*

Steve, 90 lbs of rage at 90 mph: GET WRECKED

Bucky’s got big tommy wiseau cryptid energy here

And now there’s a cat

bucky:

I love this vampire running and also bucky’s thighs

Steve Rogers: Excuse me sir I need to commandeer this vehicle. YEET.

Bucky Barnes: Excuse me sir I need to commandeer this vehicle. YOINK.

Bucky and Steve: Wrecking your morning commute since 2014

WAR MACHINE!!!

god vis has the biggest dorkiest crush

so vis are you a child prodigy? or? what?

The Roommate, a cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure: vis have you eaten anything between CW and IW?

Me, sinnamon roll, not to be trusted: *dying* *thinking about how Vision’s got schroedinger’s dick. does it exist? does it not exist? who knows.*

Me: Y. Yes. I th. think he has. eaten something. between now and. and IW. something.

The Roommate: *betrayed look*

Me: DEEP FRIED KEBAB MAYBE? I DON’T KNOW.

The Roommate: *is so disappointed*

BERLIN!!!!!!

Bucky is. So tired. Let him rest.

fucking up the morning commute again i see

u like cats??

I love the ratio of overkill:ineffectiveness with this glass box they put him in.

why did tony  bring these fancy pens

the time spent explaining them could’ve been spent doing literally anything else

*i still don’t understand the accords*

GOD STEVE WANTS TO BE AN UNCLE SO BAD

“my fault”

there it is

“truth is i don’t want to stop”

THERE it is

“i thought the accords could split the difference”

THERE IT IS

"no, i don’t.”

THERE IT IS

“IT’S INTERNMENT.”

THERE! IT! IS!

gah.

wanda’s accent et al -- MAKE IT EXPLICIT MARVEL YOU COWARDS

no but really what are the accords

here followed a 20-30 minute convo about the accords

basically the summing up was:

Nat is 100% Right Ross is 100% Wrong Everyone Else is In A Grey Area

look this is actually a really good avengers movie

but

this is a moment when the back catalogue works against them because this conversation is so -- it implies a lot of friendly interactions between these two. they seem to have a relationship

but i keep looking at all the other movies they’ve interacted in like

BITCH WHERE? WHERE IS THE TONYSTEVE FRIENDSHIP? WHERE???

i am anticipating this will cause me A Grief later

The Roommate, looking at Steve in his Grey Shirt and Jacket: Damn, sir. Stop wearing clothes.

“BIRD COSTUME???”

“j a m e s”

big holt talking to rosa vibes there

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

A VAST AND MIGHTY MOOD

Zemo’s plan is so ridiculous i genuinely don’t have time to get into it i still have two pages of notes to get through holy shit.

this fight scene. does things. for me.

hhhHNNNNHGH BEEFSTEAK

(oh tony left with no suit? growth dot gif)

THIGHS

T H I G H S ! ! ! !

CHADWICK!

Sam out here, serving looks, casually modeling

B I C E P S ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

TOO SEXY! *crashes helicopter*

I need twelve more scenes of steve and bucky faffing about in the water.

A more effective restraint than the custom made bucky bottle

(BRIEF 1991)

haaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAa biceps u stop that

Is Tony having a heart attack???

he has no concept of how to treat children because he never was one oh no i gave myself a sad feeling

QUEENS!!!!!!!

“I’m having a big fight in a parking lot with my superhero friends better go pick up a child as backup.” - tony stark

tony he doesn’t have a passport and if he understood what was happening he would not be on your side

Now That’s What I Call Vigilantism.

Why are you bringing a CHILD to a gun fight

Tony’s face, to me, suggests that he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing

also? it’s painfully obvious to me that these scenes were copypasted in late stage when they finally found out that yes they would have the rights to spiderman lol

for some reason they don’t feel the need to tell is that this is avengers compound in 400 point font

i’m so lost

where are we?

without the 400 point font i can only assume we are on mars

THAT’s a fine way to greet YOUR FATHER, WANDA

hawkeye is in fact the team lynchpin

is it

ugh

is it because they listen to him but he listens to natasha

ugh

i bet it is

UUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

Vision: I have been FALLING! for THIRTY MINUTES!

“i know someone who does”

i’m confused by the cut here, because it seems to imply that Sharon, deliberately or inadvertently, rats them out to natasha?

Birds and raccoons do not get along

steve

steve no

steve

ur timing is shit steve

Scott Lang might be the best thing in this movie

well except for Dat Bone Structure

CUT THE CHEEEEEECK

*costume change in a parking lot to the yakkety sax soundtrack*

Thinking about the coming battle i am forced to concede that Iron Man Has A Point?

“do you really want to punch your way out of this?”

Steve: I ALWAYS wanna punch my way out

god scott’s such a fukkin nerd

tiny quibble but Scott “got punched by hope van dyne” lang would never say that to the black heckin widow

“gimmick”

um

people in falcon houses shouldn’t throw spider stones, samuel

wanda

those cars belong to people

oh god iron man has a point

LET’S GO LESBIANS! COME ON LESBIANS LET’S GO

*catfight sounds*

“then why did you run?”

dude you attacked me in a catsuit

Tony’s true superpower is that he knows steve, that’s how spiderbabby gets the upper hand

althought god

Tony was pre-gaslighting peter

he was pilotlighting peter

*my longest UGH yet*

“Queens?” “Brooklyn”

MAXIMUM NEW YORK ACHIEVED

ant man is the MVP

hmmmmmm “we don’t trade lives” HMMMMMMMMM

why did that truck explode

also *omg iron man has a point*

tony tedward stark how did you not know how old this child was

also peter stop pretending you don’t know what Empire Strikes Back, AT-ATs and Hoth are.

why doesn’t Vis get more flack for this

hey. hey tony. you know what sam is? A MEDIC. maybe let him LOOK AT YER FRIEND THERE instead of SHOOTING HIM IN THE FACE.

zemo’s plan is noooooonseeeeennnnnnsssse

guh these two beautiful men emoting in different directions KILL ME

this doctor is just like “yup there’s a giant purple robot here seems legit”

natasha is the only one who’s 100% right

did... did the russos kill themselves in this movie? did they cast themselves as dead extras? was this a statement of some kind?

HOW did ross get the congressional medal of honor. H O W.

“you read it”

NO ONE READ IT, IT’S 400 PAGES

tony this is Some Nonsense

ffflslkds he’s taking one of Nat’s guns KILL ME

one (1) heterosexual explanation.

rode back in a freezer truck

got pneumonia

already had pneumonia

and you blew three whole dollars on some slut

(seriously. gimme one. i’m waiting.)

srsly tho, whether you ship it or not, these two are old marrieds

the red star looks weird on his beefcake arm. did they forget to scale it up?

KITTY

listen zemo is just really turned on by cam and he didn’t mean to say that and that’s the most relateable thing he’s done so far.

It’s not just that bucky killed his mom. it’s that bucky killed his mom AND STEVE KEPT IT FROM HIM.

life alert a senior citizen has fallen

T'Challa, observing this White Nonsense™: I truly should... check myself. Before! I wreck myself.

agism is what it is

god this bit

steve dropping the shield

look at him

he is Stick A Fork In Him D O N E

Rhodey really deserves better than this? He deserves development showing the evolution of his opinion between here and IW

i wish we could get more of him grappling with this

that said

gosh wouldn’t it fucking suck if Cap and Bucky got relegated to End Credit scenes in their own got damn movie to make room for Iron Man to emote at his buddy his pal his rhodey?

*looks directly into the camera like i’m on the office.*

Anyway.

Steve rogers: getting the last word in every argument since 1918.

“from the bottom of my heart: My Bad.”

[panicatthekogane]

Shiro + Adam's dates: a saga

*****

-going to red lobster. Not to eat, but to watch the lobsters fight in the tank

-Lana Del Rey karaoke

-watching the Emoji Movie in theaters and spending $300 on popcorn, Coca Cola, milkshakes, nachos, hot dogs and m&ms

-Flirting w/ Starbucks baristas to get free drinks for each other

Shiro: babe I told you

Adam: what

Adam: told me what

Shiro: i-....... Never mind

Adam: no what's wrong

Shiro: I wanted almond milk

Adam: and I wanted cheesecake factory but here we are broke ass

-watering Adam's mom's tomato garden in exchange for 15 minutes in the jacuzzi

-getting trapped in an elevator and making out for 3 hours then realizing neither one of them pressed any buttons

-driving 867 miles into the wilderness to look at Shiro's favorite tree, then carving "❤️A.W.+T.S.❤️" into the bark

-olive garden, to test how much cheese a waiter will grate before giving up

Some poor server, grating parmesan: say when :)

Adam: :)

*half an hour later*

The Server, in tears: sir please my wrist and my job are on the line

Adam: :)

-throwing water balloons and Keith and Pidge's tree house (Adam's secret  excuse to assert his dominance over Keith)

Shiro: truce???

Keith, dripping wet, releasing a barrage of Pidge's science fair rocks: I'll see you in hell, four eyes

Shiro: - please stop-

Adam, getting the garden hose ready: tell em who sent you and kiss your ass goodbye

-flipping through all 4238 cable channels and taking a shot every time a straight white couple kisses

-visiting the World War III museum and responding to everything with "this is so sad Alexa can we assassinate capitalists"

-adopting 26 cats from the animal shelter despite Adam being allergic

Adam, eyes watering and skin breaking out in hives: 3 of these look just like your brother lmao

Shiro: I got him here too

Shiro: baby are u sure ur okay

Adam: yeah

Adam:

-thiefing whole ass traffic lights and stop signs

-motorcycle rides going 90 mph on the highway after midnight

Shiro:

Adam:

-a picnic in the middle of the mountains, in a field of Indian paintbrush and dyer's woad. This is where, stuttering, Shiro tells Adam he loves him. Wine drunk, they fall asleep in each other's arms.

Shiro, blindfolded: this is kinky

Adam: not the time, Takashi

Shiro: where are we going

Adam: you'll see baby ;)))))

*he takes off the blindfold to reveal Chuck E Cheese*

Adam: happy birthday my love

Adam: I know you never got to come here as a kid so

Shiro, in tears: you're the best boyfriend in the world

- a lantern festival:

Adam, singing in falsetto: and at last I see the liiiiiiight

Shiro, with the stupidest biggest grin: shut up you're so corny

*writing wishes on their paper lanterns*

Adam: what did you wish for takashi

Shiro, blushing: a lifetime with you ❤️ 💕😍😘😍❤️

Shiro: why,??? what did you write ;)))

Adam, immediately yeeting the lantern that says "God better gimme the ass I deserve" into the air: it's a secret ;^)))

-Sneaking into the Garrison prom to slow dance :

Adam, with his head on Shiro's chest: Takashi?

Shiro: hmm???

Adam: can I ask you something

Shiro, sweating through his tux: 💓 sure

Adam: what color is your toothbrush

Shiro:........ We live together

Shiro: it's red you walnut

Adam: just like my undying love for you

Shiro:

Keith, materializing between them: save room for Jesus you thirsty bastards

-IHOP at 3am to share a stack of chocolate mousse pancakes and talk shit about other pilots

-laser tag, in which Adam hands Shiro his own ass

*in bed*

Adam: babe please

Adam: Takashi

Shiro: not after what you did

Adam: I won fair and square

Shiro: you're a total idiot if you think I'll let you even touch me

Adam:

-the state fair:

Adam: win me that giant sloth

Shiro: alright but I need your help

Adam: wh-

Shiro: Im gonna put cotton candy in your hair and while you freak out and distract the guy I'll sneak around the tent and grab the prize

-Shiro does however wins Adam a my little pony after destroying the strength tester with the power of his gay powered muscles and big dick energy. Adam repays him with a kiss at the top of the ferris wheel

-after a particularly bad finals week they go clubbing to get fucking wasted. In the morning Shiro wakes up with a broken ring pop on his finger. Adam, still passed out, has one too. Neither remembers what happened but maybe it's meant to be.

[zackcornfield]

The Ultimate Zagene Masterpost

as promised, i’ve gone through every official try guys video from the past few years to compile all the Zagene moments (this post also includes The Podcast™). i’ve provided dates and will link to gif sets/tumblr posts for specific moments (because i’m Extra As Fuck). i’ll try to keep this updated with new videos, so check back often (also, please let me know if i forget anything!) 

under the cut, because it’s looooong.

DISCLAIMER: i don’t mean to imply that i know anything about zach and eugene’s personal lives, or that most of these moments aren’t just things between two close friends. was literally just complying this list for a bit of fun, and because i was bored. pls don’t come for me, y’all 

another disclaimer: i’m australian, so some of the dates i use could be a bit off bc i’m something like 18 hours ahead of these two lol

also: i know initially that i said i would include instagram posts and other, non-buzzfeed videos on this list. unfortunately, i did not end up doing so. i’m maybe thinking about doing a part 2 where i include these things? no promises, this list took so much out of me as is

without further ado...

Nov. 13, 2014 - Guys Recreate Kim Kardashian’s Butt Photo

literally first video with these two together (?) and eugene’s already lowkey checking out zach (roughly 0:45-0:47). oh boy.

Nov. 19, 2014 - American Guys Try European Swimwear

zagene riding in the backseat together

“your dick might be huge” - eugene to zach (2:58), followed by eugene staring at zach until he makes a joke. um. ok.

zach checking up on hungover eugene (3:11)

December 30, 2014 - The Try Guys Test The Legal Alcohol Limit

eugene instantly goes to break up the fight between ned and zach (4:41)

during the little bits where they’re testing how drunk they are these two will not stay away from each other… at 4:56 eugene walks from one side of zach to the other to get in between him and everyone else lmao

5:38 eugene reaches out to put his hand on zach’s back for no reason

6:37 (again at 6:54) zach has his arm around eugene, sorta leaning into him. no complaint from eugene “i hate hugs” yang

eugene’s little dance on zach at 7:00

January 18, 2015 - The Try Guys Shoot Guns For The First Time

the boys sittin together at lunch, bein judgey (0:27)

(1:10) whenever i see this, i always think of this post, so it’s making the list

January 25, 2015 - The Try Guys Try ’Fifty Shades’ Style BDSM

the boys beside each other again, this time holding hands! (5:46)

February 23, 2015 - The Try Guys Taste Test Jerky

zach’s lowkey super fond looks at eugene from the backseat throughout the video

March 6, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Magic Mike Stripping

2:15 eugene is sitting on the floor facing zach, rather than keith who he’s actually talking to

“i’ve given lap dances drunk” eugene i’m not even remotely surprised (3:15)

March 11, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Makeup Tutorials

“eugene your hair’s blocking me. eu-eugene? eugene, your hair” (2:27)

April 1, 2015 - The Try Guys’ Naked Sushi Prank

zach stopping to wait for eugene (0:24)

1:05 - ok… love this little bit. eugene smiling, the high five, eugene hitting zach’s glasses off his face, zach’s little giggle. presh.

April 10, 2015 - The Try Guys Try UFC Fighting 

0:00 - not even a second in and already into it. “we love you eugene”

(0:23) - eugene is fully straddling zach. and like… bouncing on him

(0:35) “i feel like zach might squeal like a little piggy and it really excites me”

(2:24) “can we all kick zach real quick” weird way of flirting but if it works for u bud

(3:40) little hard to see but eugene’s leaning on zach

when jessica’s throwing eugene around zach looks thrilled and worried in equal measure

“didn’t come here to fight eugene! he’s fucking crazy” (8:57)

“i landed some pretty solid punches on eugene’s beautiful, beautiful face” (9:12)

eugene like… lifting zach off the ground by his legs? (9:26)

eugene leaning down over zach’s face; keith: “now kiss him like you mean it!” (9:37)

May 6, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Pregnancy Bellies

(4:52) - group hug, but eugene’s got his arm around zach and like,, kinda leans into the back of his neck?

May 7, 2015 - The Try Guys Change Dirty Diapers 

just generally stood suuuper close together the whole video

May 17, 2015 - The Try Guys Try American Ninja Warrior 

“right zach?” (10:14)

10:33 - eugene reaches out to take the towel (offered to zach) to dry him

May 31, 2015 - The Try Guys Hit 90 MPH Fastballs

“goddammit eugene” followed by soft smile from eugene (3:22)

(5:40) eugene reaches out to pull zach’s robe back in place lmao

June 20, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Wedding Dresses

(0:51) “this is my day” - zach, while pointing to eugene, who nods, smiles, and his eyebrows look kinda raised too lol

(1:01) “eugene’s gonna look prettier than any of us”

(1:32) zach’s just like… casually stroking eugene’s legs

(2:27) could they BE pressed any closer together

(2:46) goin in for the smooch… iconic

June 26, 2015 - The Try Guys March In The Pride Parade

the boys at pride…. bless :’)

i have no real specific moments from this vid i just love it so much

June 29, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Not To Die Alone

(1:24) zach: “that’s some good ash.” eugene laughs at this like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

(11:23) legendary hug/tackle…. the best, unbeatable, iconic,

July 12, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Irish Step Dance

(0:28) shoulder pat

also dance partners, holding hands, bless

(1:55) “i feel like my butt is tauter” zach turns and raises an eyebrow

(3:15) they go in for a group hug and eugene instantly goes for zach. when it’s clear he won’t reach zach, he pulls away from them all. interesting

August 1, 2015 - The Try Guys Watch Anime For The First Time

(1:17) zach compliments eugene’s hair

(3:06) zach: “yeah i guess we’re having a good time again.” eugene has the biggest smile on his face

(4:51) another compliment for eugene’s hair

(5:07) zach says something, then eugene repeats it enthusiastically and like.. kinda bites his lip?

(5:28) eugene leans over ned so he can talk to zach

these two are so in sync in such little ways like.. correcting ned’s pronunciation (6:03), leaning forward to laugh at ned’s joke (7:10), the hand gesture (7:14)

7:33 holding hands :))

August 3, 2015 - The Try Guys Cosplay For The First Time

8:41 - the boys dancing together

August 29, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Extreme Swimsuits

(4:57) eugene casually checking out zach (”i just saw zach’s penis” “yeah i accidently showed eugene my dick already” “i can still see your dick”)

zach’s eyes go straight (haha) to eugene’s butt when he walks away (5:11)

September 12, 2015 (from some time in August) - The Try Guys Imitate Each Other

“so, the one thing i know about zach is that- besides being adorable-” (0:47)

“i’ve been to many bars with him” (0:53)

“i have never been so attracted to eugene” (1:07)

ok but zach imitating eugene LMFAO

(3:30) zach crashing into eugene for a hug 

September 23, 2015 - The Try Guys Watch K-pop For The First Time

(2:16) eugene like… reading zach’s mind

September 25, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Korean Cooking

the boys cooking together

(0:36) “so eugene’s gonna be my mom” “i am not gonna be your mom” “so i got mom here to help me-” “i am not your mom” “so mom what’s the first step?” “i am not your mom!”

(1:10) eugene feeding zach (”thereee you go”)

(1:41) “you fucked me hard”

(1:47) “eugene’s a mean daddy”

(1:52) hand on the shoulder

(2:42) eugene just looks SO done

(3:04) “we’re a great team” :’)

(6:18) arm around the shoulder 

September 26, 2015 - The Try Guys Recreate Korean Drama Scenes

(2:04) iconic…. zach going in for a kiss. when will ur fave ever

September 27, 2015 - The Try Guys Try K-pop Dance Moves

(3:15) zach: *sniffs eugene* “still smells good”

(3:49) zach (lol and the others) wearing eugene’s clothes

(5:46) “let’s smell him again”

October 29, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Childhood-Ruining Costumes

(4:58) zach’s got his arms wrapped around eugene, trying to pull his costume off

November 1, 2015 - The Try Guys Get Prostate Exams

(2:46) “i’ve never had anything up my butt- well” ???????????

eugene looked like he enjoyed the exam way too much LMAO

December 13, 2015 - The Try Guys Try Therapy

the boys opening up to each other (just all of them in general) :’)

(6:17) as soon as eugene holds out his hands for the others to touch zach immediately reaches out, even before eugene was finished talking

(7:25) “now hug us!!”

eugene tries to wave off the hug until he sees zach’s arms then kinda reluctantly shuffles over

(7:28) ok zach is FULLY cuddling eugene at this point

December 19, 2015 - The Try Guys Break Into A House

(1:18) boyfs ridin off in style

Febuary 7, 2016 - Sexy Edible Lingerie Taste Test

(5:18) zach chose his nipple as the place for eugene to lick, despite presumably knowing it’d give him away bc of all the hair. go big or go home i guess

Febuary 28, 2016 - The Try Guys Play F***, Marry, Kill

(2:06) eugene noticeably reaches out to touch zach, pulls away, then moves his arm back over to grab zach’s arm

(2:17) eugene pats zach on the back

also… not zagene but……. eugene in glasses…………………

March 6, 2016 - The Try Guys Test Their Sperm Count

(5:47) eugene puts his hand on zach’s back again

March 16, 2016 - Which Type of Alcohol F*cks You Up The Most?

(3:28) “bye eugene” “where did he go?” “where does he ever go :(” why does zach sound so sad omg

these two actually weren’t super touchy in this vid which is weird when u look at the last vid where they all got drunk together

March 27, 2016 - Extreme Asian Food Challenge

(1:25) “do you wanna feed each other?” eugene gives a Look to the camera- “…sure”

(2:17) for the life of me can’t work out what eugene’s doing here. is he abt to put his arm around zach? put the phone in his pocket then quickly change his mind? touch his butt? we may never know

(5:19) zach’s “are u being for fuckin real” look still manages to be incredibly fond

(5:49) “keep your screaming to a minimum” “ yEaH eUgEne We’lL KeEp ouR ScrEamiNg to A miNimUm”

April 19, 2016 - The Try Guys Get Style Makeovers

(3:15) “first person who comes to your mind when you think of a well-dressed guy” “eugene” (same)

(8:29) eugene looks lost for words

(9:40) “it’s workin on me”

(12:22) “you look like a deleted scene from cowboy bebop” “that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me” “you’re welcome”

June 17, 2016 - The Try Guys Try Not To Die At Sea

(0:40) eugene helping zach into the water

(1:22) while eugene’s fixing his hair; “i think you look good”

(2:06) eugene holding zach while he pees over the side (one hand right on his butt). good job being supportive? 

August 5, 2016 - The Try Guys Try The Ancient Olympics

(2:43) zach’s rubbing oil into eugene’s butt, which totally isn’t suggestive at all

(3:34) pretty much leaning into each other again, this time while fully naked

(11:15) eugene comforting zach after he kicked him lol

zach has that same worried/thrilled look he has when eugene’s fighting ned that he had during the UFC fighting ep

also unrelated to zagene entirely but steven’s in the background during the wrestling?? omg

(13:54) back to zagene zach goes to help eugene off the ground when he has his ass handed to him

(15:50) eugene shoving zach when he’s being a little shit. i’m also like 90% certain he said “zachary!”

August 27, 2016 - The Try Guys Danish Food Taste Test

(0:19) ok not super zageney BUT i did use this moment in this post (#shamelessspon)

(1:48) “i think we should lady and the tramp this” “no” instant cut to them lady and the tramping the food

(2:47) “i like watching you eat! it’s like watching a little baby eat”

September 12, 2016 - The Try Guys React To Their First Videos

(3:21) zach and eugene sassing ned

(5:06) “look at that big boner i had” “that was NOT your boner” alrighty zach

(5:44) “i didn’t want to hurt you...”

(8:56) zach’s got his leg lying on eugene’s

(9:13) leaning into each other

(9:12) “promise you if we get to 200 videos we’ll fuck each other” can’t wait for The Try Guys Try Guys (i’m definitely not the first person to make this joke)

November 4, 2016 - The Try Guys Try Distracted Driving

(5:11) zach gently brushes hair off eugene’s forehead

(8:47) eugene and zach smiling at each other so softly i’m....

December 12, 2016 - The Try Guys Crash Cars Into Each Other

(1:35) zach’s giggle at “demolition derby is basically backing dat ass up”

(12:34) eugene gives zach the most adoring look

December 17, 2016 - The Try Guys Try The Weirdest Beauty Trends Of 2016

(4:57) eugene’s got his arm resting on zach’s shoulder

February 17, 2017 - The Try Guys Prank Each Other 

(2:05) “you pick the stupidest pranks zach” eugene sounded so giggly here aw

(5:05) eugene absolutely cracks up at zach’s “stupid prank”

(6:13) eugene cracking up at one of zach’s pranks again. genuinely love how happy he seems in this vid

(8:30) eugene leans right over zach to point at his screen and zach doesn’t even think twice about it. doesn’t flinch when eugene touches his face to steal his glasses either 🤔

(8:46) zach’s fond (yet exasperated) face and eugene’s kinda giddy laugh

(8:49) highkey looks like eugene was going for zach’s hand. he settles on his wrist

(8:53) zach’s hand goes to eugene’s to try and pull him away. and then cut to eugene halfway across the room??

(11:11) (make a wish) eugene and zach noticeably walking apart from the others

February 21, 2017 - The Try Guys Try Virtual Reality 

(3:10) eugene hugs zach from behind and looks thrilled with himself

(4:38) eugene leans towards the back of zach’s neck to whisper something to be a lil shit again (”back, demon!”)

(8:22) eugene wanders over to be a shit again, a reoccurring theme for this vid

(9:47, but also earlier (i forget when)) when eugene’s standing with his renditions of the try guys, he has his arm around his version of zach

March 5, 2017 - The Try Guys Take A Friendship DNA Test

(2:42) uh the whole dominant/submissive thing? what kind of kinky shit?

March 12, 2017 - The Try Guys Sexy Alcohol Taste Test

just the fact that these two were paired together for this kind of video

(1:20) “did you put your sex inside my drink, eugene?”

(1:48) eugene leaning right into zach’s personal space

(3:09) eugene looks so challenging when he’s describing the blow job shot. he’s READY

(3:13) “gene i noticed that yours is girthier than mine” eugene’s Look. also the nickname

(3:34) zach is so wide eyed when eugene takes the shot. also eugene definitely looks like he’s showing off

(3:45) “oooh yeah, i’m blowing your job...” “...just take the drink Zach, don’t think about it too much”

(4:04) eugene guiding zach’s head to take the shot???

(4:12) “this is the worst blow job i’ve ever gotten” and all that follows

(5:41) eugene like full-on bites

(6:15) “to zach’s tiny, fuckable body” “ahh... one day”

March 26, 2017 - The Try Guys Wear High Heels For A Night

(3:22) sitting beside each other at dinner

(5:47) eugene’s got his arm around zach, hand kinda on his neck

(6:44) ok... i know some stuff on this list is a bit of a stretch but DEFINITE heart eyes from eugene here

(7:36) eugene’s got his arm behind zach on the wall, leaning into his personal space

(8:25) zach leans into eugene to say something to him

(8:26) eugene’s reluctant to tap out bc he wanted to last the night, so zach suggests they call it a night so eugene can take the heels off without feeling bad

(8:41) eugene has his hands on zach’s shoulders, lets him lead him out

(8:43) eugene’s arm around zach’s shoulders again, hand kinda bunched in his shirt (also, “tonight zach carried me home”)

April 1, 2017 - The Try Guys Drunk Fast Food Taste Test

(0:12) eugene - “when people are drunk, they’re more honest than ever” hey so i wonder why u two get super touchy whenever ur drunk  🤔

(0:17) “my pants are still wet from the other video” “no one- no one wants to see that zach” eugene says, while staring at his butt

(0:39) “don’t eat without me, motherfucker”

(5:30) zagene being all cute and giggly at the end

April 15, 2017 - The Try Guys Take A Lie Detector Test

ok before we begin... #shamelessspon here and here

(1:48) eugene leaning over zach, one arm on either side of him

(2:18) eugene looks so goddamn fond here i’m dead

(4:35) when it’s revealed zach’s made out with a coworker, eugene looks pretty damn smug

also eugene looking progressively more annoyed the more coworkers zach’s said he’s made out with lmaooo

(5:22) eugene wants to fuck zach. literally have nothing to add, it speaks for itself

(6:09) zach reaches out to grab onto eugene’s arm

(7:44) zach grabs onto eugene’s arm again

(8:13) zach reaches out to grab eugene’s shoulder again

(8:35) hey so guess what zach’s doing, yet again

(8:54) eugene wraps his arm around zach’s shoulders

(8:59) eugene’s leaning heavily on zach’s shoulder

May 20, 2017 - The Try Guys Take An Ancestry DNA Test

ok before i begin i absolutely love this post by @foundghosts which might be worth a look if ur into reading body language (i think it’s super cool, which is a surprise to no one following this blog)

June 13, 2017 - The Try Guys Re-Create Photos Of Their Dads

(1:51) supportive bf shaving zach’s chest hair

also zach talking abt finding someone in the voice over when eugene’s the only person in the shot with him?

also this ask that i got

July 29, 2017 - The Try Guys Try The Japanese Tablecloth Trick

(5:33) “just take your pants off”

(6:43) zach and eugene driving everywhere together gives me life

(6:49) mocking each other like 5 year olds smh

August 5, 2017 - The Try Guys Try Cuban Miami 

(9:36) sitting beside each other for a coffee break

(10:35) teamwork on the cigar wrapping

(12:11) eugene’s arm is wrapped around zach

August 12, 2017 - The Try Guys Ski In Speedos

(0:29) [”i see eugene, i click”] zach: “i click! i click!” eugene just looks fond and exasperated 

(1:53) eugene is giving definite heart eyes here (also his fucking HAIR Y’ALL I’M SCREAMING)

(3:41) zach reaching forward to run his fingers through eugene’s hair (living the dream if we’re being real)

August 26, 2017 - The Try Guys 12-Mile Wilderness Adventure

(3:21) zach calling eugene tf out

(5:04) what is this cutesy couple-style photoshoot going on here

(7:40) eugene and zach walking together behind the others

(11:41) during the group hug, eugene has one arm fully around zch while his other is kind of just awkwardly patting keith’s shoulder lmfao

September 2, 2017 - The Try Guys Throw A $300,000 Bachelor Party

(3:27) sitting together in the back seat (literally incapable of driving anywhere if they’re not sitting together i swear)

the shots dotted throughout the video of zach and eugene talking to themselves or the camera and leaning towards each other a lil

(18:15) definitely got arms around each other, also eugene’s smile aw

September 9, 2017 - I Have An Autoimmune Disease

(3:37-3:55) eugene messing around with zach

(8:10) eugene was with zach the first time he got his shot (other try guys at least weren’t there)

September 16, 2017 - The Try Guys Get Makeovers From High School Girls

(8:21) eugene looks pretty flustered when he sees zach in his bad boy get up

(8:35) “nice meme reference!” 

yo but the things zach says when ned comes out in his clothes... u sure ur straight bud

October 7, 2017 - The Try Guys Try Immigrating To America

(0:05) eugene immediately looks to zach after making a joke (looking for validation?)

(4:06) “i think i have a crush on... iranian eugene” “don’t have a crush on fake me”

(5:10) “you’ve been recently widowed” “that means i’m single”

October 14, 2017 - The Try Guys Try Roller Derby

(2:04) eugene glances at zach a couple of times, looking incredibly fond

(2:31) eugene skating towards zach to hold his hand is still the cutest thing ever

(3:03) eugene skating towards zach to make him jump out of the way

(8:06) eugene reaches across ned to touch zach’s hand, for seemingly no reason

October 28, 2017 - The Try Guys Test Who Is The Most Attractive

(2:20) “you’re doing great sweetie”

(20:11) eugene “i hate children” yang: “but think of our children, how successful they’d be”

November 4, 2017 - The Try Guys Become Groomsmen For Keith’s Wedding

(2:06) “take your clothes off, zach”

(8:17) “ok umm... just think about zach naked” this is such a weird thing for eugene to have said and yet i’m not remotely surprised

(13:08) the Look

November 11, 2017 - The Try Guys Bake Bread Without A Recipe

(9:57) great minds think alike :’) (also eugene apparently just lurking around behind zach)

ok also adding on the little smile eugene does whenever zach smiles at him. i’ve noticed this before but i don’t think i’ve brought it up yet

(11:08)  zach mutters something to eugene, shared smile

(14:25) eugene’s classic adoring smile

(17:16) “i’ve been asking for hugs all day!” says zach, looking sulky

November 18, 2017 - The Try Guys Feed Wild Animals In Alaska

(2:26) adorable teasing

(3:49) leaning into each other a little

(6:44) more teasing

also y’all we’ve rlly gotta hand it to zach for not checking eugene out in the clips at the place they’re staying, even if he is straight. like bitch i’m a lesbian but oh boy.....

December 2, 2017 - The Try Guys Make The Ultimate Holiday Calendar 

(9:08) eugene confirms he’s lgbt, to the surprise of absolutely no one

(10:22) zach FULLY checking out eugene’s dick

(12:42) eugene adjusting zach’s scarf thing around his shoulders (i’m not jewish lol there’s probably some jewish name for it) - EDIT: it’s called a Tallus or talit

(15:30) “touch my butt” “i’ll hold his butt”

16:52, 16:54, 17:23 zach tries to kiss eugene

(17:23) “wow gimel that’s three kisses!!” “noo! that’s not how it works!”

December 11, 2017 - Not Too Deep Podcast with Grace Helbig

(19:10) “yeah we hang out more than’s probably healthy at this point” [what percentage of your weeks are spent with each other] “um, approximately the amount of time you’d spend with a significant other” “i was gonna say 80, it that too high? like my waking hours” [and sometimes when you’re sleeping!] “it has happened, yeah”

(20:09) (grace brings up zagene) zach: “i love this podcast already!!” eugene: “you know, zach loves that”

(20:20) zach wants to do a try guys recreate fanfic video. eugene is more reluctant. read into this as you will

(21:04) “he’s a classic bottom, i’m a more prototypical top”

(26:48) zach is “obsessed” with the idea of a fanfic recreation vid

(29:13) another example of zach offhandedly mentioning how hot he finds eugene

(33:34) “you’ll get married, you’re a romaaantic”

(35:57) great minds think alike :‘)

December 16, 2017 - Male Sex Symbols Throughout History

(6:46) ICONIC ass slap

and eugene’s winning smile immediately after

January 27, 2018 - The Try Guys Race Dune Buggies

(2:31) why do they literally sound like parents arguing abt who has to tuck their child in LMAO

zach also puts his hand on eugene’s back a second later

(2:40) eugene’s resting his head on zach’s shoulder as he leans forward

(5:05) eugene doing a mini photo shoot of zach kills me every time

(13:14) eugene initiates the group hug, but doesn’t extend it to ned and keith when they come over

also side note but zach fits into eugene’s arms so well it’s adorable

February 10, 2018 - The Try Guys Race Dog Sleds

(3:59) watching them goof around together is so sweet

(6:04) zach’s like got his hand fisted in eugene’s jacket

(7:03) why is it whenever we get a candid shot of these two they’re always standing suuuper close together

[starsinursa]

For @gneisscastiel, who wanted Castiel to fly again.

______

"Where are we?" Castiel rumbles from the backseat. In the rearview mirror, Dean can see him squinting out the window, brows drawn together in contemplation.

Dean puts the Impala in park. He lets it idle for a minute before turning off the ignition.

"We're at an airfield outside of Abilene," Sam says finally, when it becomes obvious Dean isn't going to say anything. Sam’s been practically vibrating with energy for the whole  drive. He unbuckles his seatbelt hastily, shouldering open the door so he can swing out his long legs.

Castiel follows suit more slowly, his door creaking as he pushes it open. "And why are we at an airfield outside of Abilene?"

They’re both out of the car now, so Dean takes a moment for himself, sitting in the empty Impala and breathing slowly. 

But only a moment, or he might never get out.

When he opens his own door and climbs out, he turns to find Sam and Castiel staring at him from over the top of the Impala.

"It was Dean's idea," is all Sam says, and he's grinning.

Castiel frowns and looks between them. "What was Dean's idea?"

"You'll see," Dean manages gruffly, finally finding his voice. "C'mon."

It's only a short walk to find the hangar the guy described to him over the phone. It's impossible to miss it, considering there's nothing else out here - they’re out in the country a few miles from Abilene, and there’s no other buildings, not even a parking lot. Dean had just parked the Impala back in the gravel drive like he'd been instructed. 

There's only dirt fields, a few power lines, and the hangar.

It's not much. It looks more like a garage, in Dean's opinion. The hangar doors are open, baring the building to the warm weather, and Dean catches sight of a few people moving around inside - on their hands and knees rolling up yards of thick, slick fabric, sorting through tubs of goggles and helmets, napping on a beanbag chair in the middle of the dusty hangar floor.

Past the hangar, there's a small paved runway, stretching out into the dirt fields like a pier. There's a plane parked close by - it’s barely bigger than the Impala, Dean notices with some dismay.

He can tell when Castiel finally makes the connection, because the reaction is immediate. Castiel jolts as if he's been electrocuted and swings towards him, eyes wide.

"Dean," he rasps.

Dean forces himself to smile. "Yeah, Cas."

"But Dean, you - airplanes -"

"Guy's gotta confront his fears sometime," he says, shrugging with a nonchalance he doesn't feel.

“Dean, you don’t have to -”

“Cut it out, Cas,” he says. There’s no anger in his voice, but he can’t give Cas the opportunity to talk him out of this or, god help him, he might listen. “We’re doing this.”

Castiel stares at him, that stare that always makes Dean just a twinge uneasy, like Castiel can see things that Dean doesn’t. He can see the wheels turning in Cas’ head though - he can see Cas processing the ‘we’ in his statement - and then Cas nods, just once.

And that’s that.

After that, things move quickly - almost too quickly, in Dean's opinion. The people in the hangar catch sight of them, calling out a greeting, and Sam hurries forward to start introductions. Dean feels like he's barely given a chance to process before he's crammed into the back of the tiny airplane with Sam and Castiel, knees crushed up against his chest...but maybe that's a good thing. He’s thought enough about this decision over the past few weeks, worrying at it like a stone in a river, so maybe it’s time to finally let it go with the current.

The iron-grey jumpsuit feels itchy and constricting on him. There's a pair of goggles pressing uncomfortably around his eyes. Castiel's side is squeezed up against him in the tiny space, but all he can focus on is the metal roof of the airplane, barely a few inches above his head, pockmarked with heavy bolts and screws holding the plane together, and the friggin' bumper sticker that someone pasted above his head: Who Farted?

He gets the urge to laugh, but he thinks it might sound hysterical, so he tamps it down.

There's only two other people in the plane with them: the pilot, who talks them through the start-up of the plane in way more detail than Dean's ever cared to know, and the instructor who's spent the last hour talking them through the procedures, the proper way to fall from a plane (who knew there was a friggin' wrong way?), all the things that could go wrong and all the failsafes in place to stop those things from going wrong -  the same instructor responsible for attaching the static lines that pull their parachutes, right before they leap out into thin air 4,000 feet above the ground, like a bunch of lemmings throwing themselves off a cliff.

Dean feels sick, but he really, really doesn't want to puke in a plane the size of a taxi cab.

When the plane rumbles to life under them, a hand closes around his arm, and he jumps - but it's just Castiel, squeezing his forearm tight, watching him carefully through his own pair of smudged goggles. When the pilot steers the plane down the runway, accelerates, and jerks them into the air, one sickening lurch at a time, Dean fumbles Castiel's hand off his arm and clutches it tightly in his own instead, squeezing. For some reason, it helps him breathe a little easier.

Sam's the first one to go. He's been beaming this whole time, barely containing his excitement, and Dean's about ready to push him out of the plane himself when the instructor finally throws open the door on the side of the plane, motions Sam forward, and spends a couple of minutes connecting and rechecking the static line. Then, just like that, Sam's stepping out onto the jutting step, reaching out to clutch at the strut running from the side of the plane to the wing. When Sam lets his feet fall off the step and hangs there, supported only by his arms from the wing of the friggin' plane, Dean can't watch - he knows there's a cue from the instructor but he can’t see it, and then Sam is gone, letting go.

His stomach turns - or perhaps that's the plane, the pilot steering the plane around in big loop so they can circle back around to the drop-off point.

It's Dean's turn. The instructor is motioning at him, saying something that's impossible to hear over the rattle of the plane. He wants to move, but he  can’t. He doesn't think he can do it after all.

There's a firm squeeze around his fingers, and Dean looks at Castiel.

"Thank you," Castiel tells him.

Dean can't hear him, but he can read the words lips.

Dean nods, and finds himself letting go. He scoots towards the instructor and automatically turns his back so the static line can be attached. Then, once more, the door is flung open. Except this time, it’s Dean sitting at the door.

He goes through the motions numbly. It's like watching another person, or all the times he’s been close to death, staring down at his own body through the veil.

It’s for Cas, he reminds himself as he swings his feet out onto the step and reaches out to grip the strut in both hands. It’s for Cas, he tells himself as he levers himself up, hunkered but standing, head bowed against the 90 mph winds buffeting him. He glances at the instructor, who gives him a smile and a thumbs-up - his cue - and then he lets his feet fall from the step, and lets go of the strut. For Cas.

Dean might actually black out for a few seconds, because the next thing he feels is his parachute deploying, yanking him abruptly out of freefall as the static line does its job. For a few horrible moments that feel like years but probably only last a few seconds, the twists in his chute cords have him spinning in circles,  legs kicking, until they’ve straightened out. He tries not to look down, he doesn’t want to look down - but he finally does, realizing his doesn’t have much choice if he wants to land. If he can even remember how the hell he's supposed to land.

As it turns out, once you’ve done the hard part and flung yourself out of a perfectly good plane like a moron, landing is the easiest part. The instructor had advised them to take advantage of their descent, slowed by their chute, to look around at the scenery and appreciate the view below them. 

Dean doesn't do a damn bit of that. He scopes out the ground below him, eyes moving quickly and purposefully, until he spots the small blip of the hangar below and the black speck of the Impala parked nearby, and then he never looks away. He could care less about the scenery. The empty, dirt-brown, hideous field where they're supposed to land, right next to the hangar, is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he doesn't let it out of his sight for a moment.

The landing, when it finally comes, is jarring but welcome. Dean even remembers to yank his cords a few seconds before his feet touch the ground to soften the landing, drawing up his legs so he doesn't jolt his knees. He skids to a stop on his ass in the dirt, cushioned a little by the thick jumpsuit he’s wearing, and then he sits there. For a long, long moment, he just sits, listening to the rustle and whine of the chute fabric billowing and settling behind him, tugging just a little at his straps. He might never move again.

- until he hears the tell-tale whine of an airplane engine, and he looks up into the blue sky just in time to see a small figure letting go of the airplane directly above him, falling, arms spread wide.

This...this is why they came. For Cas. 

Dean watches as Castiel flies.

[boliviahome-blog]

3.30.18

Matthew and I have been feeling pretty high stress in our relationship lately. This is strongly correlated to the fact that we’ve only had 2 hours away from the kids (and not focused on work) since mid-December. As I like to say, two hours is too few hours.

This is one of the more hidden costs of doing this type of work: you move away from everyone who provides a safety net to your domestic craziness. At home (meaning, back in Minnesota) we had my sister and parents just a short drive away, plus a whole congregation of generous-hearted friends living in our neighborhood, all of them willing to provide regular respite from the perils of life with a toddler and a baby. But no more. Now we live in Bolivia, with genial colleagues who are not yet close friends. And we’ve had a frustratingly difficult time finding a babysitter.

So we’ve not had much time to focus on our relationship. We have been furiously treading to keep the family’s head above water until the many transitions of these initial months cease. Keep the kids free of diarrhea and terrible diaper rash. Guide Lev into the pleasures of continuous sleep. Maintain Thea’s body temperature at a salubrious level in the tropical heat. Protect everyone from whatever the heck kind of snake this is that was living in our backyard. You get the idea.

One of the game-changing pieces of advice we got early in our marriage was to treat our relationship better than a car: the idea being that we invest in regular oil changes, make costly repairs, keep our vehicles clear of road salt and winter grime, but when it comes to the most valuable thing we own (our marriage), we hesitate to spend money to maintain it properly. People wait too long to make marital repairs, i.e., through counseling, and often it’s too late. I don’t know, I’m not a counselor, and I am keenly aware this isn’t always possible for everyone. But - for us - we took the advice to heart. We typically went to see Shannon, our counselor, about 4 sessions a year. An hour and a half appointment is long enough to talk, scowl, laugh, scowl, and laugh again. We bring the intransigent issues we have, she offers perspective and homework, we work on it, we forget about it, we go back and hash it out again the next year. It’s been helpful and an encouragement to us, a safety net.

When we moved to Bolivia, we anticipated and tried to mitigate the huge stressors by scheduling an online marriage counseling session within our first few weeks here. We have unlimited and free access to them, which I think is one of the best perks of the job. One thing we didn’t anticipate, however, was an erratic internet connection. We got the kids to bed, breathed a sigh of relief, plopped down at the kitchen table, reviewed what we wanted to talk about, and... BLAARGH. [That is the sound of the internet crapping out.]

The counselor rang us back about 10 times in 10 minutes, until we all called it quits. “We’ll ... see ... [garble garble] ... later when ... [garble]... is fixed,” we barked at the screen. I think she got the point. Well, that was 3 months ago. 

Matthew and I have been neglecting each other and this past week the strain was starting to show. We both became snippy. The word “butthead” was bandied about. I was feeling depressed and really homesick, Lev got sick, then I got sick, and my emotional margin was exhausted. All the transitions - the moving, orienting, traveling, life at 90 mph - these are all done. It’s time now to get the kids, the house, and ourselves back on track. So Say We All!

Today is Good Friday, a work holiday here, and the kids were napping simultaneously, so we decided to make it a Really Good Friday by paying attention to each other, maybe having a little fun, playing a game, and talking about important stuff.

We started things off by rating our perception of our marriage right now:

Me: What grade would you give us?

Matthew: [Sigh] Oh, maybe a B- or a C?

Me: Oh really! Wow!

Matthew: What?

Me: Oh, I’m just pleased that you think we’re doing that well.

[Some more detailed talk about the ins-and-outs of this season for us, what’s going well, what’s going badly, how the kids play into it or not.]

Me: Well, yeah, I think I’d also give us about a C. Not great, but not fundamentally broken, either.

[More detailed talk about what “fundamentally broken” means.]

Then we played Hanabi, which got interrupted by Lev crying, and we started bickering again. The equation is very simple: Kid crying = frustrated bickering. The louder the crying, the louder the bickering. I. SERIOUSLY. HATE. BICKERING. Lev went back to sleep.

Matthew: Okay, let’s try again. Reset on the game.

[Game played. Fun sort-of had. You can’t just relax at the drop of a hat.]

After the game, we set the pieces down and looked around. Matthew was gratified that neither of us was looking at our phones or the laptop. I was thrilled the house was quiet and that no marching band was rehearsing nearby.

We decided to gaze into each other’s eyes for 30 seconds, which is something we do once in a while, on the premise that maintaining our love doesn’t need to be rocket science or grand poetry, that sometimes it can be aided with some tried-and-true methods: in this case, simply staring at another’s eyes for 30 seconds increases your affection for them. At least, I’m pretty sure I read something about that once. Matthew set his watch timer.

Me: Wait, wait, let’s do a pre and post-test. Don’t start! Stop looking at me! What’s your current level of affection for me? Mine is about a 3.

Matthew: [appearing slightly miffed] Out of what?

Me: 10.

Matthew: Yeah, I’m about a 3 too.

Me: Okay! Let’s see if staring in each other’s eyes helps raise that.

So we scooted closer. We held onto each other’s shoulders. It was nice. He set the timer. We started staring.

Matthew: You’re only looking at one eye. Look at both.

Me: [adjusting]

Matthew: Now I’ve made you into a cyclops. [leaning in and out] Wooo-ooo-ooooo!

Me: Stop that!

Matthew: It’s like a Magic Eye picture.

Me: [trying it] I think I see a lion coming out!

[Both of us giggling and then settling into it, staring at both eyes]

I’ve always liked Matthew eyes. The summer we met, when my heart was still quite ragged from a hurtful season some time earlier, I remember how struck I was by his soft, kind, brown eyes. I’ve since heard that’s some kind of pop-culture cliche, probably with a snarky gif, but the debasing of it doesn’t take away from the truth of it for me. Matthew did have soft, kind eyes. He still does. I still find healing and a sense of home when I look in them. Especially when he’s not being a butthead. Because his heart is Good.

30 seconds passed. A minute passed. We didn’t know that, of course, because you can’t shift your eyes to watch the clock or the whole thing breaks down. We finally drew apart.

Me: Where are you at now?

Matthew: A 4.

Me: Me too! Wow, that’s amazing. Only a minute and we gained a whole point! We could get all the way up to a 10 with only 6 more minutes. That’s nothing!

So... it’s a start. We feel good about the prospects. Everything is calming down: the job, the potty-training, the travel. We keep repeating this, reassuring ourselves, as if a magic mantra will make it so.

But the proof is in the ordinary details: We’re eating home-cooked meals. Yes, half of them get thrown on the floor by our punk 12 month-old but that’s irregardless of geography. Thea is watercolor painting again, right now to the soothing tunes of Ladysmith Black Mambazo from a Putomayo Kids album. (Pretty happy about that.) She’s asking me to sing Hark the Herald at night again. Lev is discovering to how play by himself and often sits quietly, entranced by Fisher Price Little People, throwing them, transferring them from bus to barn to mouth.

And we are proving it too: today we finally scheduled another online counseling appointment and we booked a babysitter for next Tuesday. Hopefully she will not kill the children. We may be only at a 4, but 4 is almost a 5, and 5 is halfway there. Today is Good Friday, when Jesus decided the whole earth was worth healing. Seemed like the right day to decide that for us too.

(In any case, we already know we’re MFEO - Made For Each Other - because we both hate that scene in movies when someone needs to give someone else a necklace and - even though they’ve just been frantically running through a forest or dodging bullets in a war and the necklace has stayed on securely the whole time - somehow in the moment when they need to pass it off to someone, all they have to do is gently tug on it and the clasp comes loose and they gracefully hand it over. Eye-rolls all around from us. I’m looking at you Frodo Baggins.)

[junker-town]

Secret Base Hall of Fame: Casey Fossum

Photo by Andy Lyons /Getty Images

One day fifteen years ago, this man ruined me.

“Eephus” is a stupid-looking name for a stupid-looking pitch. Only a few players across Major League Baseball history have regularly thrown it, and Casey Fossum is one of them.

Many of the greatest pitchers of all time have found success mostly by changing speeds. If you can throw 95 miles per hour one minute and 77 the next, you make it tough for the batter to lock in and time it right. This only really works if you can make it look like either one might be coming out of your hand. You can’t tip off the batter. Your delivery needs to look the same.

If you wanted to right now, you could give yourself an oversimplified demonstration of how high of an art this is. Wad up a paper ball or something. Throw it as hard as you can, paying close attention to how your arm and your body moves when you throw it. Now mimic that same throwing motion, but only throw it half as hard. You’ll then have some iota of how difficult this is to do with a baseball from 60 feet away.

But the eephus? That only hits the mitt at 55, 50, even 45 miles per hour. Here is what Fossum’s looked like.

Some GIFs make a sound, and this one sounds like a slide whistle. It’s cartoonish in appearance, and it can work if it’s deployed smartly — in one newspaper report, teammates noted that he only threw about three eephus pitches per game. Deploy it too often, and they’ll catch on to you. You have to keep it a weird, sad surprise, like a cigarette butt in a load of laundry.

I don’t know why the 25 or so notable eephus pitchers in baseball history picked up that pitch, but greatness is not the common denominator. Casey Fossum was not at all a great pitcher by Major League Baseball standards; in fact, among pitchers to make at least 100 starts, Fossum finished with one of the worst ERAs of all time. But you will not hear me denigrate his abilities for two reasons: first, he was, of course good enough to stick around and make those 100-plus starts in the first place.

And second, the video game version of Casey Fossum inflicted upon me a great and terrible humiliation. One that made me swear off baseball video games forever. To this day, I have not returned.

It’s 2006, I’m 23 years old, and we’re in my apartment. This story is about Casey Fossum and not me, so I’ll only pull the curtain back a little.

If you look to the left of the TV, you’ll see a weight bench. I have a friend who likes to drive around and pick up random junk that people have left on the curb. One day he stopped by unannounced, back when people just did that, with the weight bench in the back of his truck. “You want this? I’ve already got one.” Sure.

We lugged it up to my place, and it wasn’t until a couple days later that I tried to use it, stood up, took a close look at it, and realized that it was a child-sized weight bench. This possibility never occurred to me because I didn’t realize such a thing existed. Was I mistaken here? Another friend stopped by. “No, yeah, dude, this thing is for kids. It’s gotta be.” I’m too lazy to try to sell, it, and I’m certainly not going to pay a junk hauler to drive it away, because I don’t have the kind of money you need to do … anything, really. So it’s sat there for a year. It doesn’t do anything and it isn’t going anywhere. Takes one to know one, pal.

If we can direct our attention back to the right, I’m firing up Major League Baseball 2K6 on my Xbox. I don’t know why! I don’t even like playing this game! I felt, and still feel, that realistic baseball video games are a bad idea. They should either be oversimplified like the R.B.I. Baseball series, or off-the-wall lunacy like Mario Superstar Baseball. The art of getting good wood on the ball can’t possibly be simulated by a single button-press, but that’s what this game has stuck you with, so batting really feels more like bet-placing than anything.

I’m in the lobby of this game I suck at and don’t enjoy, waiting for an online match. This is only gonna piss me off, because even by 2006 standards, my internet connection is terrible. I’ve lost Yahoo! Chess matches due to lag, that’s how bad it is. I get matched up, and as the loading screen appears, I hear some kid’s voice crackle through the mic. He probably isn’t older than 12.

Online gaming with kids is a pretty weird experience that we all just kind of have to get used to. You’ve been robbed of your superior social standing. You’re not any more dignified than they are. This is not a friendly game of Mario Kart with your youngest sibling, and you can’t laugh it off as a friendly match that’s all in fun. That’s not why people play online games. We play to win, not to have fun. Who took the time to upload a custom avi? Who carefully monitors their rating? Who patiently waited in the lobby for five minutes to find a ranked match? You did, dummy, just like they did. You’re taking this equally seriously and you cannot even try to pretend otherwise.

I’m beginning to think I might collect my first-ever win when I see that he’s chosen the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, one of the worst teams in baseball. The only real draw for selecting this team lies in Scott Kazmir, their young ace with a high-90s fastball and a terrific slider. I’m further amused when this kid doesn’t even start him.

He starts Casey Fossum.

At this time, I have no idea Fossum has an eephus pitch, or what an eephus even is. Unlike the real-life Fossum, the kid throws this thing so often that his fastball is actually the off-speed pitch. It goes something like eephus, fastball, eephus, eephus, fastball, eephus. When he strikes out the side in the first inning, all I can really do is laugh. I’ve never seen a pitch that looked like that. It moves like the clay pigeons in Duck Hunt. But it’s fine, I’ll figure it out.

He strikes out the side in the second as well. I just cannot figure this guy out. The eephus is such a strange pitch that even when I guess correctly that an eephus is coming, I still miss somehow. I can’t even make contact. Worst of all, I can’t even work the count, because the vast majority of his pitches are landing over the plate.

Around batter number five, I hear him over the mic:

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

This will continue throughout the rest of the game. He doesn’t stop.

Heading into the third inning, I talk myself through a strategy: listen, if he’s going to keep throwing the eephus, just assume he’s throwing one every single time. If I’m late on a fastball, I’m late. Just hit the eephus. If I time it right, I could hit that thing 500 feet.

He then strikes me out on three straight fastballs, all of which I am comically late on. I immediately abandon this strategy.

What, lil’ bitch

Lil’ stupid-ass bitch

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

I don’t have a mic, and thank God for that.

Beyond completely destroying the opponent’s sense of timing — a thing already compromised by the lag — there’s another special utility to the eephus as deployed against you in an online game. It makes you look like a total idiot. You’re finished with your swing before the ball is even halfway to the plate. If you bet the other way and guess wrong, you don’t even begin to swing until the ball’s basically in the mitt. Video Game Fossum doesn’t even have to fool you with pitch placement. Every ball goes over the plate. He’s attacking your your ability to time, sense, react. He’s directly attacking your intellect.

Nothing will tilt an online gamer quite like being obviously and repeatedly outsmarted and made to look like a dummy. Someone will find out you’re susceptible to one particular parlor trick and beat you to death with it. There’s the phase in which you recognize what’s being done, how it’s happening, and what you need to do to counteract it. What comes after is the phase in which you realize that there’s nothing you can do. Your opponent has run this playbook a hundred times against a hundred clueless marks. You’re next on this merry-go-round, and you’re here to lose.

Hey lil’ bitch

What’s up lil’ bitch

What lil’ bitch

What what lil’ bitch

It’s the fourth inning. 12 up, 12 down, all strikeouts. This is a perfectly-targeted attack on my ego.

I think I’m smart. I think I’m an excellent tactician when it comes to video games, my abilities forged in the fires of Madden ‘93, Perfect Dark, and Rainbow Six, but also informed by the dark arts of weird old DOS strategy games. Games like Warlords and Nobunaga’s Ambition that required mastery of troops and economies to conduct campaigns of great conquest. Games this kid is too young to have a clue about.

I also think I know a lot about baseball. I watch it constantly. Even in 2006, I’m poring through Baseball-Reference every day. I want to write for a living someday, and if it can ever somehow happen, it feels like baseball is my ticket in. I’m a professional baseball writer in training. I should know what an eephus pitch is.

I think I’m a pretty laid-back guy. I don’t get angry easily. I’m really easygoing. I get along well with people. At the tech-support call center I work at, my supervisor notes in my reviews that I’m very good at de-escalating, which is to say that when mad people call me, I’m good at helping them feel more understood and less mad.

All these things mean a lot to me. They’re the basis of my ego. Hey, look at that guy. You know, he doesn’t have his shit together at all and is actually kind of a doofus, but hey, he’s a smart guy who knows stuff and is good with people. That’s something.

All those pillars are shaking. I’m a shiftless bum who can’t hit a 55-MPH pitch to save my life because I don’t know anything about baseball, and on top of that, I’m being absolutely driven up the wall by a Video Game Casey Fossum and some random 12-year-old who’s outsmarting me every chance he gets.

He is way better than me at everything I thought I was good at. My self-esteem is being annihilated.

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

One thing that to this day makes me an absolute loser is that I take online gaming etiquette very seriously. I never abandon a match, no matter how badly I’m getting destroyed. Someone can say incredibly cutting things to me and I’ll say “Thanks!” and pretend I’m not mad, that this doesn’t matter to me. Kill ‘em with kindness, you know? I’m above this. I’m better than this.

When you’re 23 years old and nothing feels like it’s breaking the right way, if it’s even breaking any way at all, it’s a lot more difficult to feel that way. But I try, I really do. I refuse to abandon the match. I am determined to solve this puzzle. This can only last for so long. Even if I can’t win this game, I can at least light him up a little bit, proving to both of us that, yes, I figured him out.

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Imagine the experience of losing 50 consecutive rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and you might have a sense of what this is like. I’ve fouled off a handful of pitches, but I haven’t put a single ball into play. This kid is a genius, but it’s not really about that anymore, it’s about how fundamentally bad at this I am. Can I at least be okay at a video game? We’ve settled that I’m a stupid baby who doesn’t know anything and gets mad at things that don’t matter. Can I have this, at least? No.

I hope this kid thinks I’m someone his age. I hope it never occurs to him that he’s thoroughly embarrassing a grown man so badly that he’ll write about it a decade and a half later.

And I’d like Casey Fossum to know that for one day, on two televisions, he was a god.

Having surrendered every other claim I thought I had, my sense of honor is the last thing to go. Somewhere around the seventh inning, I disconnect. I don’t have time to navigate through the menus. I have run out of oxygen. I unplug the console from the wall. It was a tornado, for all that kid knows. I never play an online baseball game again.

[ecotone99]

[MS] Highway to Hell

Emmanuel yawned as he stuck his keys in the ignition. He put on his seatbelt, sipped his coffee, and looked off into the beautiful sunrise as he backed out of his driveway. He heads to his 9 to 5 insurance job that he ever so hates going to and drains his living soul. It was the little things like his coffee, cigarettes, and sunrises that kept him from jumping off the ledge of his apartment. Of which he would have raving fantasies of every time he got psychotically drunk.

But as he finished backing up out of his driveway he knew he was to bottle all those thoughts until he arrived at his apartment, the natural thing. He was a cog in the vast American workforce, and he was not going to disappoint. His silly, little, suicidal; blunders would make him look bad. He felt reminded of something his mother had said to him, “You’re a big boy now Manny! Being depressed and sad is for 14 year old girls. You are a 27 year old man. Get your emotions in check, your never going to go anywhere being all sad and shit.” He took that to heart.

Maybe she was right. If he kept bottling his emotions he might be happier in the end.

For he had only turned 36 last Thursday. He had begun to drive down the street, he sips his coffee, drowns himself in 90s grunge music, and of course obeys the 35 mph speed limit. He proceeds to drive the colorful route to the office that he’d become very acquainted too. As he coasted to a stop at a red light, he took a cigarette and lighter from his shirt pocket and proceeded to light up a smoke.

Everything was as normal as it ever could be. October 23rd felt the same as the 22nd, 21st, or 20th. Or it least it felt the same up until he started driving again. He noticed that the roadways were completely clear. First he felt pissed that he had to wait for nobody, but on further thought he questioned the true reasoning for this. Chills ran up and all over his body and an uneasiness swelled up inside him. Was there a holiday he wasn’t told of, martial law, a zombie apocalypse? He took a deep drag of his cigarette and turned onto the interstate.

“What the fuck!” Manny screamed as his car sped along the freeway. There was not a single car on the entire road. The road that is almost always swarming with hasty commuters was completely barren of life. He drove in the middle of the freeway and looked at the millions of white lines that are usually covered by congested traffic. He entered a trance-like state looking at all the lines whirr past him as he kicked his speed up to 90 miles per hour. And in an instant his mindless listening of Nirvana and Smashing Pumpkins was interrupted.

Not by the noise of the roadway but something else. He heard some sirens, his neurons stormed away, coming up with the stupidest possible sources of the noise. That was until, he looked through his rearview mirror and noticed that an ambulance was barreling down the road. “A deadly plague!” he shouted as if it was as normal to him as eating, drinking, and pooping. Like as normal as the oat based cereal he eats for breakfast every morning. The uneasiness grew inside of him, so much so to make him sick.

When he stubbed his cigarette in his cup holder, he noticed something even more peculiar. The tip of his cigarette was smeared in blood, it looked as if a sacrifice was performed on top of the filter. He furiously began coughing and quickly knew where that blood had came from. He hacked violently as if he were a diseased dog, getting blood all over his work attire. He struggled to keep control of the steering wheel as he continued to barrel down the road at a more reasonable 75 miles per hour. The chills radiated all over his body and made him feel even more uncomfortable.

In the meantime the ambulance driver was speeding down the roadway with the same intensity of Emmanuel. As he coughed disgustingly the driver of the ambulance was steadily gaining ground on him. He questioned if that shiny; urgent looking ambulance had anything to do with the road being clear. Was he dreaming or in a drug fueled mania? The trees, the road, the cloudless sky had been reduced to nothing but a miniscule collection of blurry colors. He rested his tired left arm on the steering wheel and grabbed his coffee with the other. There was no point of steering on road in which no other cars were present, except of course the lone ambulance in tow.

He swigged his coffee and let out another bloody cough as the coffee slid down his throat. His arm was getting increasingly weak and unsteady, was this just his time or was there just something in the air? Was this a sign he wasn’t supposed to be here? The cup of coffee slipped out of his fingers and splashed all over his car radio. Kurt Cobain’s voice had been distorted by the spill, and Heart-Shaped Box now sounded like if it was possessed by Satan himself.

His head felt glued to the back of his seat, it felt as though he’d contracted ALS just on his commute to work. He felt incredibly awful, what was it that was causing this? The ambulance was now no less than 50 feet behind Emmanuel's car. His life was messed up already when he got in the car, but he hasn’t been this sick since he was a boy. He lifted his pathetically weak arm and slapped himself in the face and began to speak to himself in the 3rd person. “Come on Emmanuel, the office is only 10 minutes away.”

Dying was not something that he feared, he had contemplated it every single day, but he never figured it would be like this. He would occasionally make sarcastic comments about wanting to die on the way to work, but that was just because he hated his job. He never thought his life would end on the way to work, dying of whatever the fuck was happening to him.

Emmanuel shakened by sickness and bewildered by the mystery of it relaxes his muscles. He spends the last few moments of his life hacking blood all over his steering wheel. Both his mind and his muscles are completely relaxed. The ambulance emotionlessly creeps up on his car. It is no less than 10 feet of Emmanuel's bumper. He whimpers with the intensity of a springtime lamb and releases his foot off the pedal.

The tires of his car screech as his car rapidly loses speed. His body moves around his uncontrolled car like a sock puppet. A piece of flesh whose motions are erroneous and uncontained by pain. In the ambulance Jamaal screams “Oh my God!” He slams on his brakes but a collision is imminent. "Brace!" he signals to his co-medic to prepare for an impact.

The ambulance jams into the back of Emmanuel's car at 50 mph. His car unnaturally crumples in ways the manufacturers never intended the car to. His body is mangled around as the impact of the ambulance forces his car to come to a stop. Sparks fly from the chassis of the ambulance as if the vehicle was his ticket to hell. After a couple hundred feet of the ambulance sliding his car down the freeway. Both vehicles come to a complete stop.

The airbags activate in both Emmanuel's car and the ambulance. They both work properly but for Emmanuel it really doesn't matter too much. The paramedics are shocked, but overall grateful to be alive. "What the hell was that!?" Gabby asks Jamaal. "I don't know? Was that man on PCP or something." "I'm not sure, uhhhhh" Gabby rubs her head, she has a grueling headache. "Well" Jamaal bellows "Let's go do our jobs I guess."

The paramedics creak open their respective doors and step haphazardly on the roadway. The front of the ambulance was totaled, smoke poured out of the ambulance like a summertime bonfire. The scene of the crash is very cloudy, but the thing most present in the air is death. Jamaal violently coughs "They don't pay me enough for this shit, Gabby stay back I've got this" He ducks down as if it does something to stop him from inhaling the smoke, and walks over to the driver side door of Emmanuel's car.

When Jamaal opens the driver side door it falls over and make a metallic thump as it hits the sidewalk. More smoke comes out of the car, he takes out a mask from his pocket and equips it like if it's an everyday occurence. The smoke subsides and he sees what he sees is typical with most car crash victims. A poor soul, a busted radio, and lots of blood. He doesn't even bother to check for a pulse and drags Emmanuel out of the car by his bloody and freezing arm.

He drags him to a part of the road that isn't crowded by smoke, a place where he can safely exercise his profession. "Gabby, please be a dear and get a clipboard and body bag from the back. "Ok!" she yells and robotically does what Jamaal asks of her. She walks around to the back of the smoking ambulance and swings open the back doors. They eerily twing as she opens them and the unsettling sight of the splattered and maimed medical supplies gives her the creeps. She shutters as she steps in the ambulance and grabs the clipboard off the ambulance counter.

Under the counter which had become partially detached during the crash is the conveniently placed bodybag. She grabs that in her free hand and scurries out of the ambulance as fast as her muscles allow her to do. Car crashes and car crash victims were not something alien to Gabby, but her getting into an accident herself was had given her the shutters. She hopes whenever she gets back to the hospital that they don't get mad at her and Jamaal for whatever the hell happened here.

She walks along the pristine tarmac over to her co-medic Jamaal to help him deal with this dead guy. As she walks over to Jamaal she becomes less startled, the headaches and crash wasn't normal, the wrapping up and processing of a dead person was. She prepares to drown herself in her profession as she is paramedic and part of that job is not only caring for the living, but also for the dead.

"Great for you to join us, Princess Gabriella. You mind helping me with this dead guy or are you just going to stand there and look." "Yeah, yeah, yeah calm yourself King Douchebag I'm gonna help." Gabby throws the clipboard over at Jamaal who catches it as if his was born purpose. He takes his pen out of his pants pocket and gets ready to write. "Before you wrap him up do you mind getting me some sort of ID."No problem" Gabby reaches into his tattered pockets and pulls out an old Naugahyde wallet that she assumed belonged to the deceased man. She flips through the wallet sifting for ID and finds what she was looking for, a driver's license.

"His name is Emmanuel Barajas, is of Latino descent, born October 17th 1983, and is an organ donor." "Thank you, though I doubt you'll be harvesting anything useful from that man." Jamaal furiously writes the information down in the clipboard while Gabby wraps the body up. As she zips the body up and the scribbling ceases there is a moment of solemn. That strange moment of calm right after somebody leaves the Earth. Jamaal looks down at the clipboard and reads the information off the clipboard to Gabby "Emmanuel Barajas, Pronounced Dead at 8:37 AM, Cause of Death: Automobile Accident."

They stare at each others faces which at this time are soaked by the morning sun. The sun highlights their features and complexions as they rationalize the best solution on what to do. Gabby breaks the silence "So the ambulance is busted, and we're stuck on a creepily desolate roadway with some dead dude. What's you plan to get out of this." "Call up another ambulance to pick us up and bring the dead guy to the morgue. I'll call up the tow company to get these crumpled metal heaps out of the roadway." He coughs violently getting blood and phlegm all over the road. "Let's make it quick though I think I'm starting to get sick."

submitted by /u/WarioYahoo [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2QY9oqf

[flauntpage]

It Would Seem to be Hittin’ Season Once Again

It was just like old times at Citizens Bank Park tonight. It really was.

Cole Hamels was on the mound, and Charlie Manuel was in the dugout watching his offense batter the opposing team’s starting pitcher into submission.

Unfortunately for Hamels, he was the opposing team’s starting pitcher.

Same spot for Charlie#Phillies pic.twitter.com/UrJWVMwFaK

— John Clark (@JClarkNBCS) August 14, 2019

That face. That look. Let Charlie’s eyes permeate your soul and instill it with hope and confidence. This look right here is like Manuel’s version of blue steel.

I can almost hear him muttering to himself, “You’re, like, well, god damn right we’re swinging the bats tonight.”

That’s my hitting coach.

As for Hamels, he failed to record an out in the third inning after surrendering eight earned runs on nine hits.

The Phillies, who had previously failed to win back-to-back games this month, jumped on Hamels early when Rhys Hoskins snapped a 2 for 32 skid with a leadoff single in his first career plate appearance at the top of the order.

Bryce Harper would follow two batters later by obliterating an 0-1 Hamels fastball 413 feet to the opposite field for his 23rd homer of the season.

Give it to me:

Bryce says bye. pic.twitter.com/kSpK2yJTvm

— MLB (@MLB) August 14, 2019

Unlike plenty of other occasions in which the Phillies scored early and then went silent, they didn’t stop scoring tonight. It’s like they couldn’t stop scoring.

With the team mired in a 19 for 96 stretch with runners in scoring position, Aaron Nola singled to extend the Phillies lead. Hoskins would follow by notching his first RBI in nine games with a sacrifice fly.

By the time J.T. Realmuto, who is now hitting .333 with nine extra-base hits in 13 games this month, doubled later in the inning, chants of “Charlie! Charlie!” began raining down from the stands.

Those same chants were heard after Realmuto’s next at-bat in which he did this:

The five seasons: summer, fall, winter, spring, hittin'#RingTheBell pic.twitter.com/IRVHwaKIvE

— Philadelphia Phillies (@Phillies) August 15, 2019

You can’t make this shit up.

Hey, Bryce. You know what? I liked that thing you did earlier – give it to me again:

This is what 111 mph off the bat looks like. 👀#RingTheBell pic.twitter.com/nB3lZqu8Qa

— Philadelphia Phillies (@Phillies) August 15, 2019

Hard to believe that overrated bust Bryce Harper is on pace for 32 homers, 111 walks, a career-best 115 RBIs, and a career-best 41 doubles.

Good Seeing You Again!

Hamels wasn’t around for very long on Wednesday night, but Phillies fans welcomed him with a lengthy standing ovation when he came to the plate during the top of the third inning:

.@ColeHamels gets a standing ovation during his first at-bat at Citizens Bank Park. #Phillies fans are the worst. pic.twitter.com/Ujm99MUp7B

— Rob Tornoe (@RobTornoe) August 15, 2019

It was a special moment, and considering Manuel’s recent unexpected return to the dugout, perhaps a reunion with the 2008 World Series MVP is possible this offseason.

Hamels will be 36 years old next season, and despite being unequivocally brutal tonight, he did enter the game with a 2.79 ERA in 31 starts with the Cubs dating back to late last season.

Count me in.

Aaron Nola, Also Good at Throwing Baseballs

‘Twas a night to reflect on the greatness of a former Phillies ace and appreciate the greatness – yeah, I said it – the greatness of the current Phillies ace.

Nola turned in a dominant seven innings in which he allowed one earned run on three hits while striking out seven and walking only one.

In his last 11 starts dating back to June 21, Nola has a 2.09 ERA with a 0.982 WHIP and 10.2 K/9.

That’s ace shit.

It Has Happened Before

Former legendary Cleveland Indians manager Lou Brown who guided greats Rick Vaughn, Jake Taylor, Rube Baker, and Pedro Cerrano to an AL pennant back in the early 90s once said, “We won a game yesterday, if we win one today, that’s two in a row. If we win one tomorrow, that’s called a winning streak. It has happened before.”

I mention this because the Phillies are a mere one victory away from a winning streak, something they haven’t had since July 21-24.

If they’re feeling really frisky and decide to sweep the Cubs, a team that has gone 0-10-2 over its last 12 road series, the Phils will have a shot at four straight wins on Friday night for the first time since their four-game sweep of the Mets back on June 24-27.

Broadcast Highlights

Where to begin? First, we have a drop in from Chris Wheeler, sans hair, who I kind of miss:

Bald Chris Wheeler is certainly a sight pic.twitter.com/rGR0smIuxL

— The Chollyball Phight (@TheGoodPhight) August 15, 2019

Speaking of Kruk, he seemed to be enjoying himself down by the dugout tonight:

Oh, @JohnKruk. For the final time, he’s ours and you can’t have him! #IWantToBeANachoMan @Phillies @TMacPhils @bendavisnbcs @GmurphNBCS pic.twitter.com/kPFpVEQc9c

— Michael Hertzler (@HertzlerMichael) August 15, 2019

And more:

@JohnKruk hates the Phanatic 😂😂😂😂 #RingTheBell pic.twitter.com/Tsdxw3zFJg

— ¢нαяℓιє ωαℓ¢нєѕкι™️ (@cwall1503) August 15, 2019

The post It Would Seem to be Hittin’ Season Once Again appeared first on Crossing Broad.

It Would Seem to be Hittin’ Season Once Again published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[smoothshift]

I traded in my Focus ST for a Challenger 392 and nearly doubled my horsepower via /r/cars

I traded in my Focus ST for a Challenger 392 and nearly doubled my horsepower

The term "mixed bag" has been rattling around in my head these past 2 weeks, ever since I traded in the first new car I ever bought for a road legal speed boat. "Mixed emotions" in that while I thoroughly enjoy my new 6.4 liter V8, an upgrade in power, I feel like I have downgraded some ways from things I had taken for granted in my little ST. Let me talk about my 2016 Focus ST in retrospect for a moment after owning it for over 3 years.

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https://i.imgur.com/G2QmPfJ.jpg

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I bought my ST with 8 miles on the odometer. I paid $28k before taxes. Prior to this, I was driving a 2004 Silverado pickup, so transitioning to a small Euro-Ford was jarring. I'm a tall boy and twisting into the small car was difficult at first, but I quickly learned how to jump in and out well enough that I didn't notice my audible groans every time I entered and exited the car. Once I was in the car, I found the Recaro bolstered seats were actually very comfortable. I liked the feel of the clutch, the (real) carbon fiber accent trim was tasteful, and the transmission was notchy. The 9 speaker Sony sound system with a sub woofer in the rear was excellent. But still, the car needed some massaging to be just right.

​

Stock, the Focus ST is quiet. At first I chopped off the mid-pipe resonator, and while that initially pleased me, I eventually upgraded to a Borla catback exhaust. That, coupled with a 50/50 blow off valve, and she sounded MEAN. Listen for yourself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Sd2MyqWLaM

​

I installed a Cobb short shift plate and reduced the throw of my stick by 40%. That was major. I had it tuned by Stratified and the ST awoke even more with power everywhere. It wasn't lacking power anywhere for the size of the car. The tune also gave me "flat foot shifting" that allowed me to clutch-in while keeping my right foot on the acceleration. I beat out cars that were legitimately faster than me just because the driver couldn't shift as fast as I could. But I knew where my Focus stood on the power poll. A similarly modified GTI was faster, a WRX could launch better with its AWD, and Mazdaspeed3's just had more displacement. The ST was a gnarly little dog that wanted to bite everyone, and it took a lot of restraint not to embarrass myself when others wanted to "play".

​

The biggest downside to the ST in the 3 years I owned it was the size. It is a compact car. And on longer drives my body would ache. The door sill where I rested my elbow was hard and would cause discomfort. The space where my legs went was cramped. The Recaro seats, while comfortable at first, became restrictive after some time on the road. The small gas tank meant that I would need to refill more often, though I would learn to enjoy those moments when I could get out and stretch. The car also had an abysmal u-turn radius, making city driving sometimes difficult. All of these discomforts aside, I loved this car. She was my first 4 wheeled investment, and I will fight for my baby.

​

Then I saw this. https://i.imgur.com/UD1flWp.jpg

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So I traded in my 2016 Ford Focus ST for a 2016 Dodge Challenger Scat Pack Shaker.

https://i.imgur.com/dv87QZc.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/dZp73UT.jpg

https://i.imgur.com/cx9h7KK.jpg

​

I wasn't even planning on trading in my Focus. Honestly, total impulse buy. I was at the dealership buying a new work van when the salesman asked me if I wanted to test drive a Scat Pack for fun. I test drove one and was amazed, so I asked what they had used. In their lot, not sitting for even 24 hours yet, was this white Scat Pack with the "Shaker" package. A 2016 with only 5,000 miles. An older gentleman had bought the car, detailed it every day, and almost never drove it before he traded it in on a new Jeep. I've talked to the previous owner, he claims to never have taken it faster than 90 mph, and I believe that. I was able to negotiate the price down to the low $30k range, which is a good deal on this car. I'm sure the salesman was having a great day, 2 car sales in a row.

​

So now I have upgraded from 252 stock horsepower from a turbo in the Ford, to 485hp naturally aspirated in the Dodge. I've seen claims that Dodge sandbags the horsepower ratings for their cars and the 392 cubic inch engine makes something closer to 500hp, but I wouldn't know. I haven't put it on a dyno and the car is completely stock. And Even stock this car is maddening. It makes me wonder how insane it's 700HP bigger brother is. This is such a disjointed experience from what the ST offered. The Challenger is not nimble. The challenger is not small. The challenger is not fuel efficient. No, what the Challenger IS, is raw.

​

This is the fastest car I've ever driven. It accelerates from 0-60 in the low 4's when using the launch control. When you aren't using launch, the back wheels are begging to cut traction and leave 2 wide black tire marks down the road behind you. Once you catch traction it throws you into the back of your seat and doesn't stop accelerating. On my ST the only option for a transmission was a 6 speed manual. My Scat Pack is an automatic. Now, I am a manual enthusiast through and through. In my opinion a standard transmission is key to any enthusiast car and I will die on that hill. But regrettably this 8 speed auto is good. Real good. Push the shifter to the left and the car goes into a mode where shifts are managed by paddles on the steering wheel. Thankfully the transmission doesn't think it is smarter than you; It will hold at redline until you shift up, it will lug the engine until you shift down. And the shifts are quick.

​

People will joke that these cars are land yachts and I have to agree. While it does corner better than I would expect a 4,000lb+ car too, she ain't no sport car. If you preach "slow car fast", you should try driving one of these because any speed cornering feels too fast. Although I have started to feel like a king of the road while driving this car. It's large and absorbs all the bumps while being mean and loud. The Shaker package adds the cold air intake in the middle of the hood, and it's cool to see it move around and "shake" with the engine.

​

The interior is a mix of good and bad. Leather A/C and heated seats are gifts from the automotive Gods, and I am grateful that the previous owner spec'd this one out to have them. It's also so wide inside I have room to spread way out while driving. I feel like I'm driving a 500hp couch. The infotainment is.. passable. I would be much happier if it had Android Auto, but apparently that was an upgrade for '17 models and newer. The real low-light for the interior is the sound system. It's a cheap 6 speaker system that rattles the doors with any amount of bass and the sound is hollow. As an audiophile this really pisses me off, my Focus sounded so much better. I'd argue that I have a 8 speaker 392-watt sound system under the hood of this car, and yeah I enjoy that roar, but not being able to rock out like I could in my ST hurts.

​

Other ways the Focus ST was better would be visibility. Looking out the rear both cars sucked equally, but sitting in the Challenger it's quickly apparent just how wide the B and C pillars are. You could lose the entire state of Wyoming behind those things. To make things worse, the mirrors on the Dodge are postage stamp sized. They look good from looking at the car on the outside, but you can't see anything in those things. Merging in between lanes is a lot more stressful than I am used to. The scat pack doesn't even get any safety features such as blind spot monitoring, so I'm on my own out there.

​

Cheap, fast, luxury; You can only pick 2. When you buy this car, you are really only buying one thing. The engine. Everything else comes second, and the Chally isn't a luxury car. The few niceties that are optioned out on this car are welcome, but they are almost completely offset by the laughably cheap parts also in here. **It is comfortable though**, so I will give it that. My Focus ST was less comfortable, but the quality was higher.

​

I'm not sure what the next few years will hold for me and the 392. I already miss my ST, but I don't regret my new purchase. With a car that can hit 180+ mph I don't think I will be bored anytime soon. I'll see you guys on the road.

[robertkstone]

2018 Porsche Panamera 4 E-Hybrid Sport Turismo First Test

By its very definition, no one wins when you compromise. This is especially true if you’re a discerning car enthusiast looking for a one-size-fits-all approach to your family car. More often than not, the cars that are most practical aren’t particularly fun to drive, but sportier options are neither roomy nor efficient. That equation gets even more complicated once you bring efficiency, fuel costs, and climate change–causing emissions into the equation. Thankfully, it seems some problems are easily solved by throwing money at them—the 2018 Porsche Panamera E-Hybrid Sport Turismo is the ultimate be-all, end-all family car for the evolved (and let’s get this out of the way early—wealthy) car enthusiast.

Practicality

You’re not going to be able to sell your significant other on a family car if it isn’t practical. Riding on the Volkswagen Group’s MSB platform, the Panamera Sport Turismo shares everything forward of (and beneath) the B-pillar with its non–Sport Turismo sibling. Behind that B-pillar is a revised roofline, ending in a tidy-looking tailgate. The already-roomy rear seat benefits from the extra airiness provided by a larger rear cargo area, and cargo volume in the trunk balloons from 14.3 to 18.3 cubic feet.

The fold-flat back seat is tilted back a bit to improve headroom for taller passengers without ruining the roofline (as was the case with the first-generation Panamera); legroom, although not limolike, is perfectly acceptable for most taller occupants.

Front occupants are well taken care of, too, with comfortable seats, near-SUV levels of visibility, and a large, easy-to-use Porsche Connect infotainment display. Its sole miss—not enough cupholders or storage cubbies for family considerations.

Sportiness

Just like a Jeep has got to live up to the badge on its hood, a Porsche does, too. This family-friendly hybrid station wagon delivers in spades there. Developed using technology and know-how from Porsche’s 918 Spyder hypercar and Le Mans–winning 919 Hybrid, the Panamera Sport Turismo pairs a 330-hp 2.9-liter twin-turbo V-6 with a 136-hp electric motor wedged between the six-cylinder and Porsche’s latest PDK eight-speed twin-clutch automatic. Its total system output is a not-insignificant 464 hp and 516 lb-ft of torque. That’s more power and more torque than the twin-turbo V-8-powered Panamera GTS.

Paired with Porsche’s standard torque-vectoring all-wheel-drive system, our electrified Panamera station wagon was shockingly (sorry) fast at the track. With its 14.1-kW-hr battery topped off and launch control enabled, the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid Sport Turismo accelerated from 0 to 60 mph in 3.7 seconds and on through the quarter mile in 12.3 seconds at 112.7 mph.

Our 60–0 brake tests revealed the brakes to be softer and more prone to fade than we’ve typically seen from Porsches. Its best stop of 109 feet was followed by increasingly longer stop distances. We suspect the Panamera E-Hybrid’s regenerative brakes trying to scavenge for electricity is the culprit. At any rate, Porsche offers carbon-ceramic brakes on the E-Hybrid, which ought to improve performance considerably.

Despite its 5,016-pound curb weight, this Panamera has no trouble dancing through a corner or two. Aided by the optional rear-axle steering system (at a fairly reasonable—for a Porsche—$1,620), this Sport Turismo lapped our figure-eight course in 24.4 seconds at 0.79 g, and it averaged 0.96 g on the skidpad.

On the road, the Panamera E-Hybrid is, in a word, fascinating. Given the complicated dance going on between the Porsche’s gas engine, electric motor, eight-speed transmission, regenerative brakes, and torque-vectoring all-wheel-drive system, you’d think the car would be constantly fighting itself. Instead, the systems are all in sync.

The stark differences between each of the Panamera’s four drive modes were probably the most interesting to me. With its battery full, E-Power mode is the default setting. Despite its modest 16 miles of electric range in this mode, this plug-in hybrid does a remarkable job at mimicking the experience of a traditional full-size electric vehicle, like a Tesla Model S. Aided by the PDK, the Panamera’s electric motor makes the most of its 136 hp and 295 lb-ft of torque. On electrons the Sport Turismo feels decently quick, accelerating from 0 to 60 mph in 5-ish seconds. The gas engine only fires up in E-Power if you press the throttle past its kick-down point or once you deplete the battery, when the Panamera will change into Hybrid Auto mode.

Hybrid Auto seems to be the best of both worlds between full-electric E-Power and performance-optimized Sport and Sport Plus modes. In Hybrid Auto, the Panamera still prioritizes efficient electric driving, but it’ll quickly fire up its V-6 when power is needed or to charge the battery. You can also manually fire up the engine to either save the battery’s state of charge or to charge the battery using the gas engine. Again, the most remarkable thing here is how unremarkable it all is. Save for the tach swinging up and down as the gas engine unobtrusively turns on and off, the drive experience is pure Porsche.

That’s especially true in Sport and Sport Plus modes. The most amazing thing to me is how linear this car accelerates considering all the variables in the powertrain—you get a punch in the gut from the electric motor and all-wheel-drive system off the line, and then the Porsche’s V-6 picks up as the motor begins to lose steam. The result is a car that pulls strongly up near its 6,800-rpm redline before the transmission slingshots you into the next highest gear.

As we saw at the track, the long-roof Panamera hybrid is happy to dance, too. Like the last Panamera, the Sport Turismo drives far smaller than it is on twisty roads, thanks in part to its optional rear-wheel steering system. It’s easy to overdrive the car at first because of how quickly it turns in, but once you’re used to the car, it settles into a corner beautifully. If we’re nitpicking (and to be clear, I am), the Panamera’s sole weakness is that its steering feel borders on gummy in fast, back-to-back bends.

Efficiency

And now we come to the reason why the Panamera E-Hybrid Sport Turismo is the ultimate family car for the moneyed among us—simply put, no other vehicle (save for maybe a Tesla Model S P100D) is as fast, fun to drive, practical, and efficient as the electrified Panamera wagon.

The 16 miles of range the EPA rates the Panamera E-Hybrid’s battery at is accurate, and provided you have access to a Level 2 charger, it only takes about three hours for the Porsche’s battery to charge back up. Even with its small 14.1-kW-hr battery (and while only charging every other day), I managed to drive 122 miles on the battery pack and electric motor alone, according to the Panamera’s trip computer. Driven as a hybrid with the battery pack depleted, I averaged a hair over 23 mpg, 1 mpg better than the Sport Turismo’s 22-mpg EPA combined rating.

At 22 mpg, the Panamera E-Hybrid Sport Turismo ain’t exactly a Prius—but that’s just the point. No vehicle in its peer class, including heavyweights like the Mercedes-AMG CLS 53 4Matic or BMW 740e xDrive, so capably balances performance with efficiency. Yeah, at $118,150 it’s expensive, but considering it’s a capable sports car, family hauler, and relative efficiency, shouldn’t it be?

Ultimately the importance of cars like the Panamera E-Hybrid goes beyond how fast and efficient it is—performance hybrids like this Porsche help change the public perception of electrified vehicles. As the world slowly shifts to battery electric vehicles, cars like the Panamera Sport Turismo E-Hybrid will act as the stepping stone by showing the world that you really can have your cake—and eat it, too.

2018 Porsche Panamera 4 E-Hybrid Sport Turismo BASE PRICE $105,050 PRICE AS TESTED $118,150 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, AWD, 5-pass, 4-door wagon ENGINE 2.9L/330-hp/331-lb-ft twin-turbo DOHC 24-valve V-6 plus 136-hp/295-lb-ft electric motor; 464 hp/516 lb-ft combined TRANSMISSION 8-speed twin-clutch auto CURB WEIGHT (F/R DIST) 5,016 lb (48/52%) WHEELBASE 116.1 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 198.8 x 76.3 x 56.0 in TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 1.2 sec 0-40 1.9 0-50 2.8 0-60 3.7 0-70 4.9 0-80 6.3 0-90 7.8 0-100 9.7 0-100-0 13.9 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 2.0 QUARTER MILE 12.3 sec @ 112.7 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 109 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.96 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 24.4 sec @ 0.79 g (avg) TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,200 rpm EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON 20/25/22 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 169/135 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.88 lb/mile

IFTTT

[thegloober]

Mailbag: Wild Card Game, Chapman, Realmuto, Goldschmidt

Yankeemetrics: Smackdown at Tropicana Field (Sept. 24-27)

We’ve got 12 questions in this week’s mailbag, the final mailbag of the 2018 regular season. As always, RABmailbag (at) gmail (dot) com is where you can send your mailbag questions each week.

Tanaka. (Mike Stobe/Getty)

Robert asks: Starting pitcher for the Wild Card? How about the one least likely to implode in early on. Any stats on who most often throws a scoreless 1st and 2nd inning? Probably no Didi to bail us out again this year.

The other day Aaron Boone mentioned the Yankees might only let their starting pitcher go through the lineup one time in the Wild Card Game, even if he’s effective. I’m not sure that’ll happen — if the starter goes nine up, nine down with five strikeouts, are they really taking him out? — but the Yankees have made it pretty clear they’ll be ready to go to their bullpen at the first sign of trouble. Anyway, here are the numbers (ERA/FIP/opponent’s OPS+):

Happ Severino Tanaka 1st inning 3.90/4.49/76 4.22/3.31/104 4.00/3.75/103 2nd inning 2.40/3.22/76 2.25/2.37/50 2.67/3.12/75 1st & 2nd innings 3.15/3.86/76 3.23/2.85/78 3.33/3.44/90 1st time thru lineup 3.03/4.29/92 2.60/2.74/79 2.70/3.12/87

Reminder that the first inning is the highest scoring inning, historically. That’s the only inning in which each team’s best hitters are guaranteed to hit. If the Yankees are only looking for someone to get through the lineup one time, it has to be Severino. And not just because of the numbers in the table. Tell him to air it out for nine batters and you’re getting a 100 mph heater and a razor blade slider. Severino can dominate anyone. The Yankees have to piece together 27 outs in the Wild Card Game. My guess is the bullpen get the majority of those 27 outs.

Joe asks: This might be a little extreme, any chance if Yanks make it to the ALDS, they leave Chapman off the roster and ready him for the ALCS? Don’t remember a time he looked good against the Red Sox. Maybe if they keep him on the roster, he doesn’t pitch at Fenway even in a save opportunity?

There’s no chance the Yankees will leave Aroldis Chapman off the postseason roster, in any round against any opponent. Chapman has really struggled against the Red Sox — he’s allowed 16 runs in 16 innings against the BoSox while with the Yankees — but he has the ability to dominate any lineup. You roll with your best players in the postseason and trust them to do what’s needed to win. What’s the alternative here? Tommy Kahnle? Sonny Gray? Yeah, no. Chapman’s recent history against the Red Sox is ugly and I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable with him on the mound in a close game against the Red Sox, but he is far too good and far too talented to avoid in the postseason because of 16 bad innings spread across two and a half years.

Joe asks: Do you think that the presence of Yankees scouts with the Marlins could make an offseason swap of Sanchez for Realmuto a possibility? How would a trade look?

The Marlins would have to kick in more. I’ve gotten a lot of “why not trade Gary Sanchez for J.T. Realmuto?” questions this year and most suggest a package headlined by Sanchez for Realmuto. That is completely backwards to me. The Marlins would have to give up a package headlined by Realmuto for Sanchez. Consider …

Sanchez is two years younger.

Sanchez is under team control through 2022. Realmuto is under control through 2020.

Realmuto’s breakout season at age 27 in 2018 (.278/.342/.487/128 wRC+/+4.8 WAR) is no better than Gary’s age 24 season in 2017 (.278/.345/.531/129 wRC+/+4.4 WAR).

Aside from his caught stealing rate, the defensive numbers on Realmuto aren’t good at all.

I have no interest in selling low on Sanchez to buy high on Realmuto. Realmuto’s really good and I don’t have any reason to believe he won’t continue to be really good the next few years. But Sanchez is younger, is under control longer, and every bit as talented (if not more). If Gary were on some other team right now, I’d get a zillion questions asking whether the Yankees should buy low, and I’d say absolutely yes. Keep Sanchez. Don’t trade him for the flavor of the week. You’re never going to win anything if you cut bait the first time young players struggle.

Matt asks: Is it worth it to dismiss Josh Bard after this season and hire a former manager to be a bench coach? With bullpen management being a clear weakness for Boone perhaps an experienced manager can offer some help.

From what I understand, Josh Bard is very highly regarded within baseball. He’s considered a rising star in the coaching and managerial ranks. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if we hear him connected to some managerial openings this winter and see him possibly go for interviews. Some of Aaron Boone’s bullpen management is dumb. The A.J. Cole thing is ridiculous. But, generally speaking, Boone uses guys in the right spots, in my opinion. David Robertson is the fireman. Dellin Betances faces the other team’s best hitters. That sorta stuff. It’s up to Boone to improve his improve his bullpen management. It’s not on the bench coach. Boone has to learn and gain experience. Besides, I suspect the front office has a lot of input — let’s call it “providing guidance” — into bullpen moves. I’m not sure a veteran bench coach would change much, if at all.

Goldy. (Ralph Freso/Getty)

Craig asks: Paul Goldschmidt. Some speculation that the D-backs could deal him over the winter – do you think the Yankees would/should make a play for him? What would it take?

Next season is the last season on Goldschmidt’s contract (it’s a no-brainer $14.5M club option year) and he’ll hit free agency at 32, which makes things dicey. He’s obviously great — Goldschmidt is hitting .291/.390/.538 (146 wRC+) with 33 homers and Gold Glove caliber defense this year — but paying big dollars for a first baseman’s age 32+ seasons isn’t something teams are eager to do these days. That has led to speculation about a trade his offseason.

If the Diamondbacks are open to trading Goldschmidt, the Yankees absolutely should make a play for him. He’s a dominant player who is a big upgrade at first base. I like Luke Voit, he’s been awesome, but I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to replace him with Goldschmidt. The Yankees have a lot of players in the prime of their careers or entering the prime of their careers. Anything they can do to increase their odds of winning the World Series in the short-term is worthwhile. The time to go all-in is right now. If not now, then when?

In a perfect world the Yankees would build a trade package around Greg Bird and Chance Adams, but I’m not sure that’s realistic. I’d want Justus Sheffield as part of a package if I were the D’Backs. I don’t think that’s unreasonable for a player as good as Goldschmidt, even one year of him. I’m not convinced Arizona will trade him. I think they’re more likely to keep him and try to win in 2019. If they’re open to trading Goldschmidt, the Yankees have to at least check in. Elite players are always worth acquiring.

Luke asks: All this talk about 10+ HRs out of the ’18 Yanks, and the next closest is Tyler Austin at 8 – womp. What about how many HRs have we gotten out of each position – has to be 20 per position, right? Any records close to being broken there?

I don’t know how to look this up historically, so I don’t know whether the Yankees are approaching (or setting) any records here, but it is pretty insane how much the home run production is spread out. The Yankees have not only gotten 20+ homers from every position except one (left field), they’ve gotten 20+ homers from every lineup spot except one (ninth). The numbers:

Homers by Position Catcher: 29 First Base: 32 Second Base: 24 Shortstop: 33 Third Base: 26 Left Field: 19 Center Field: 29 Right Field: 37 Designated Hitter: 30

Homers by Lineup Spot 1. 27 2. 38 3. 26 4. 43 5. 33 6. 26 7. 23 8. 25 9. 19

That is pretty crazy. Can Gleyber Torres (or whoever ends up playing second base) hit three home runs this weekend? Can the ninth place hitter sock one? I can’t imagine many teams throughout baseball history have received 20+ homers from each position and/or each lineup spot.

Zeke asks: What’s your opinion on bad contract swap for Ellsbury and Samardzija? Maybe Yankees can throw in one low level prospect to make it work?

I think we’re heading into the third straight offseason with “Ellsbury for Samardzija?” questions. Jacoby Ellsbury was hurt all season and a non-factor. Didn’t play a single game. Jeff Samardzija pitched to a 6.25 ERA (5.44 FIP) in 44.2 innings around injuries. They both have two years left on their contracts and the money is similar enough ($43M vs. $36M) that it shouldn’t be a significant obstacle in a trade.

It boils down to this: What reclamation project do you want, the 34-year-old starter or the 35-year-old outfielder? I honestly don’t know. I feel like Ellsbury is more likely to help you as a fourth outfielder than Samardzija is as a starter or even as a reliever at this point. Plus Ellsbury just had hip surgery. If his rehab carries over into early next season, the Yankees collect insurance money to offset his salary, and the savings might be worth more than whatever Ellsbury or Samardzija gives you on the field. I dunno. Two bad options here.

Frank asks: Do you have any interest in a Robbie Cano reunion for the first base job? If so, how much of Cano’s contract would Seattle have to eat to make the deal plausible?

Nah. Robinson Cano is forever cool with me, but he’s going to turn 36 years old in October, and there’s still five (!) years and $120M remaining on his contract. It’s all downside too. Cano’s best years are behind him and you’d be acquiring his heavy decline years, the years the Yankees wanted to avoid when they reportedly capped their offer at seven years. The Mariners would have to turn him into what, a $5M a year player for the Yankees to even consider it? Even then, do you want to pay $5M a year for his age 36-40 seasons? Nah. stay away from the declining dudes on the wrong side of 35, especially when there are multiple years remaining on their contract.

Miller. (Jason Miller/Getty)

Andrew asks: Looking at your recent bullpen post. Why not bring back Andrew Miller as a FA? Let Britton walk and sign Miller who should be a cheaper? We already know he can handle NY and would give us insurance if/when Betances leaves after next year.

I suspect we’re going to hear a lot about a potential Miller reunion this winter. It’s worth a longer discussion outside a mailbag setting (and after the postseason). Miller turns 34 next May and he went into last night’s game with a 3.38 ERA (3.10 FIP) and a 31.2% strikeout rate in 32 innings this season. That is obviously very good. It also qualifies as his worst season as a full-time reliever. He’s also missed time with a shoulder impingement and ongoing knee problems that date back to last season. The Indians even sent him to see the Cleveland Cavaliers doctors to figure out the knee issue. Miller is awesome. I don’t know anyone who didn’t love him when he was with the Yankees. The question is who do you want the next three years, Miller during his age 34-36 seasons or Zach Britton during his age 31-33 seasons? As good as Miller is, I don’t think it would be unreasonable to consider Britton the better investment going forward.

John asks: Assuming a RH starter in the Wild Card game, shouldn’t Walker start over Voit?

Nah. Voit’s been hitting righties pretty hard these last few weeks. He went into yesterday’s game hitting .291/.384/.570 (158 wRC+) against right-handers this season, and that was before his 3-for-3 with a double and a homer game. Neil Walker’s had some big moments with the Yankees — what are the odds he comes up with a random huge hit in the postseason? pretty darn good, I’d say — but he is hitting .234/.326/.390 (94 wRC+) against righties. Voit will swing-and-miss a bunch against big velocity from righties. That’s not unusual though. Everyone does that. Otherwise he’s hit righties very hard and I’d go with him over Walker against a righty in the postseason. (The fact Greg Bird is not even part of this conversation tells you how terrible he’s been.)

Keane asks: Do you think the Yankees might experiment with more bullpen games or an opener next year?

I could see it, yeah. I don’t think the Yankees or any non-Rays teams would do it as often as the Rays have this year, but it’s worth considering. Inevitably there will be injuries and the Yankees will have to turn to young kids to fill out the rotation next year. That’s just part of baseball. And when you have someone like that, like Domingo German or the Chance Adams spot start this season, it’s definitely worth considering using an opener more often. It’s not something I would look to do regularly. There will be some times when it makes sense though, and I hope the Yankees embrace it.

George asks: I had one question after reading your article about re-signing Andrew McCutchen. You mention a three-man (Judge, Stanton, McCutchen) rotation in the corner outfield and DH spots, but who is the backup for center field? If Hicks gets hurt, or needs a day off?

That’s a good question and that’s something the Yankees would have to figure out. Is Ellsbury on the bench? If yes, he’d be the obvious backup center fielder. Judge played center field in a game earlier this year, so the Yankees are comfortable running him out there. Comfortable enough to let him do it fairly often? Or on an everyday basis should Aaron Hicks get hurt? I dunno. The same question applies to Clint Frazier. I wouldn’t want to play McCutchen in center field in anything more than an emergency. He’s been pretty terrible out there the last few seasons. This is definitely something the Yankees would have to figure out should they re-sign McCutchen. You need quality backup options at this up-the-middle positions. They can be awfully hard to fill.

Yankeemetrics: Smackdown at Tropicana Field (Sept. 24-27)

Source: https://bloghyped.com/mailbag-wild-card-game-chapman-realmuto-goldschmidt/

[racketnews]

Why are 2/3rds of US children ‘not proficient’ in math? Leading teacher demonstrates: texts LIE about ‘real-world math problems’, stupefy children to tune-out from counting what’s most important (like US .01% admitting they ‘lost’ $21 TRILLION of taxes)

*hyperlinks/videos live at source* hat tip: David Icke The US Department of Education reports that two-thirds of American school children are not proficient in mathematics (here, here). In 2016 I wrote an article series about public education that includes a section on math that documents: 1. Math texts lie about “real world math problems” with ridiculous and contrived word problems. 2. Math texts don’t even care to define mathematics or algebra. 3. Algebra 1 fail rates are up to 50% of students, and is connected to the above two points along with less than 1% of adults using algebraic formulas in work. The outcomes of such “education” include: 1. Americans concluding “math” is difficult and something to tune-out from; stupefying us from counting what’s most important in Life like US .01% “leaders” admitting they “lost” $21 trillion of our taxes (~$200,000 per average US household). Please pause to let that fact penetrate. 2. Training Americans as work animals to blindly obey a rogue state empire. 3. Americans blaming themselves as being “bad” at math, and too stupid to seriously engage in the numbers associated with competent citizenship. Math-hole Ph.D text author LIARS Those of us who apply mathematics to quantify reality, understand as comprehensively as possible what exists, and use math as a scorecard to upgrade real-world conditions abhor liars. Fraudulent data makes it impossible to understand the real world, misdirects our attention and work, and wastes valuable time. As you know, professionals quickly dismiss proven liars, and remove them from serious work. Again, look here for three examples of typical lying math word problems, that cannot be excused as anything but intentional lying with rejection to consult with anyone doing real-world work. Here are three more from the 1,200 page Algebra 1 text provided to my students. These are typical: From Module 14 Rational exponents and radicals, consider this claimed “real-world problem” on page 660: “The balls used in soccer, baseball, basketball, and golf are spheres. How much material is needed to make each of the balls in the table? The formula for the surface area of a sphere is 4????r2 and the formula for the volume of a sphere is V = 4/3????r3 . Use algebra to find the formula for the surface area of a sphere given its volume.” (table provided for the four balls’ volumes) Paraphrasing usual student observations: Oh my balls! Are these things empty of “material” and only have surface area?! This says the balls have nothing inside. Maybe the math-hole authors have the same problem of nothing inside their heads. Maybe so because they didn’t ask anyone who actually makes those balls. Golf balls are not spheres. It’s some other fucking shape with all those dimples. Not that this matters because I think the shit inside the ball is just as important as the outside cover for the ball to be any good for that sport. Yeah, we should just judge those balls by the cover and not look inside, just like we should ignore what’s inside our math book. People who use balls want to be good in those sports. Nobody good at those sports ever ever ever ever ever even thought of such a dumb-ass problem to waste their time. From Module 22 Using square roots to solve quadratic equations, consider this claimed “real-world problem” on page 894: “A contractor is building a fenced-in playground at a daycare. The playground will be rectangular with its width equal to half its length. The total area will be 5000 square feet. Determine how many feet of fencing the contractor will use.” Paraphrasing usual student observations: WTF (what the fence)? Just fence and no gates? Real contractors charge extra for gates ‘cuz they take more time. Are they going to throw the kids over the fence, dig a tunnel, or put slides over it for kids to get in and out? Where is the building where kids are inside??? The daycare isn’t connecting the fence to the building?! Nobody would do that. The kiddie cage the math-hole authors say is real isn’t at an existing daycare ‘cuz they’d already have a fence to keep the kids safe. Maybe a replacement fence would be real, but not this shit with a convenient 5,000 exact square feet that just happens to be a number that works evenly for a word problem about square roots. And anyway, if they know the area is 5,000, then they already know the width and length and don’t need to ask anyone. From Module 19 Graphing quadratic functions, consider this claimed “real-world problem” on page 1037 (with picture of a parabola): “Describe what the vertex, y-intercept, and endpoint(s) represent in the situation, and then determine the equation of the function. This graph models the depth in yards below the water’s surface (y-axis) of a dolphin before and after it rises to take a breath and descends again. The depth (d) is relative to time (t, in seconds as the x-axis), and t=0 when the dolphin reaches a depth of 0 yards at the surface.” Paraphrasing usual student observations: Wait. The math-holes say a dolphin swims up to zero to “take a breath.” The graph shows air as the positive numbers, and water in negative numbers. This means these dumb-x authors violate the definition of zero and don’t even notice :) No animal moves at perfectly constant speed in a perfect parabola. This is bullshit. So these authors find nothing in reality to show us other than these fake puzzles. Nice. The graph the math-holes give us show a speed of about 50 mph at 4 seconds before and after the fake “breath” where there’s no air. Is this a magic rainbow dolphin that’s the fastest in the universe? Will the magic dolphin be going 5,000 mph or so 10 seconds from the fake air? What’s an educated person to do? Call bullshit for what it is to expose liars, remove the liars, and rebuild with truth. Again, I wrote a series on the problem of bullshit public education. Next: see the bigger pattern of lies and empire, and remove those liars through lawful arrests: When Americans are told an election is defined by touching a computer screen without a countable receipt that can be verified, they are being told a criminal lie to allow election fraud. This is self-evident, but Princeton, Stanford, and the President of the American Statistical Association are among the leaders pointing to the obvious (and here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here). Again, no professional would/can argue an election is legitimate when there is nothing for anyone to count. The facts show Bernie Sanders won the Democratic Primary election, and claims by Democratic “leadership” of Russian election “meddling” are without factual documentation. US military now illegally occupy eight bases in Syria (and here), with escalating bombing of Syria and Iraq of over 4,000 bombs/month and over 84,000 since 2014. The US acknowledges ~500 civilian deaths from these bombs, with independent count of ~750 in just in June 2017. Among dozens of independent writers, I’ve documented that all “reasons” for wars on Iran, Syria, and Russia are easily proved lies (recently, here, here, here, and going back to 2005), with US Department of illegal Wars of Aggression (so-called “Defense”) claiming to have “lost” $65,000 for every US household. The US is a literal rogue state empire led by neocolonial looting liars. The history is uncontested and taught to anyone taking comprehensive courses. If anyone has any refutations of this professional academic factual claim for any of this easy-to-read and documented content, please provide it. Rogue state empire is the most accurate term to describe the US for the following reasons: People around the world view the US as the greatest threat to peace; voted three times more dangerous than any other country. The data confirm this conclusion: Since WW2, Earth has had 248 armed conflicts. The US started 201 of them. These US-started armed attacks have killed ~30 million and counting; 90% of these deaths are innocent children, the elderly and ordinary working civilian women and men. The US has war-murdered more than Hitler’s Nazis. The total deaths caused by rogue state empire for resource control (natural and human) in the last 20 years is ~400 million, more than all total wars and violence in all recorded Earth history. US ongoing lie-started and Orwellian-illegal Wars of Aggression require all US military and government to refuse all war orders because there are no lawful orders for obviously unlawful wars. Officers are required to arrest those who issue obviously unlawful orders. And again, those of us working for this area of justice are aware of zero attempts to refute this with, “War law states (a, b, c), so the wars are legal because (d, e, f).” All we receive is easy-to-reveal bullshit. The destruction of nearly all rights lawfully guaranteed in the US Bill of Rights within the US Constitution, and in Orwellian inversion of limited government. Corporate media are criminally complicit through constant lies of omission and commission to “cover” all these crimes. Historic tragic-comic empire is only possible through such straight-face lying, making our Emperor’s New Clothes analogy perfectly chosen. The top three benefits each of monetary reform and public banking total ~$1,000,000 for the average American household, and would be received nearly instantly. Please read that twice and imagine the connection between having a rogue state empire to enrich an oligarchy combined with internal financial manipulation to maximize those parasitical riches. Now look to verify for yourself. Iran has never threatened to “wipe Israel off the map” and only has IAEA-verified legal energy and medicine programs with nuclear materials. Trump and corporate media continues and escalates easily-verified lies to threaten more illegal war on Iran. Israel engages in lie-started and illegal War of Aggression on Gaza; ironically the largest concentration camp in world history. This is also easy to verify. Categories of crime include: Wars of Aggression (the worst crime a nation can commit). Likely treason for lying to US military, ordering unlawful attack and invasions of foreign lands, and causing thousands of US military deaths. Crimes Against Humanity for ongoing intentional policy of poverty that’s killed over 400 million human beings just since 1995 (~75% children; more deaths than from all wars in Earth’s recorded history). US military, law enforcement, and all with Oaths to support and defend the US Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, face an endgame choice: Demand arrests, with those with lawful authority to enact it. An arrest is the lawful action to stop apparent crimes, with the most serious crimes documented here meaning the most serious need for arrests. Watch the US escalate its rogue state crimes that annually kill millions, harm billions, and loot trillions. In just 90 seconds, former US Marine Ken O’Keefe powerfully states how you may choose to voice “very obvious solutions”: arrest the criminal leaders (video starts at 20:51, then finishes this episode of Cross Talk): 3-minute video: Police, Military – Was your Oath sincere? I make all factual assertions as a National Board Certified Teacher of US Government, Economics, and History (also credentialed in Mathematics), with all economic factual claims receiving zero refutation since I began writing in 2008 among Advanced Placement Macroeconomics teachers on our discussion board, public audiences of these articles, and international conferences (and here). I invite readers to empower their civic voices with the strongest comprehensive facts most important to building a brighter future. I challenge professionals, academics, and citizens to add their voices for the benefit of all Earth’s inhabitants. ** Carl Herman worked with both US political parties over 18 years and two UN Summits with the citizen’s lobby, RESULTS, for US domestic and foreign policy to end poverty. He can be reached at Carl_Herman@post.harvard.edu Note: My work from 2012 to October, 2017 is on Washington’s Blog. Work back to 2009 is blocked by Examiner.com (and from other whistleblowers), so some links to those essays are blocked. If you’d like to search for those articles other sites may have republished, use words from the article title within the blocked link. Or, go to http://archive.org/web/, paste the expired link into the box, click “Browse history,” then click onto the screenshots of that page for each time it was screen-shot and uploaded to webarchive (blocked author pages: here, here). http://dlvr.it/QSlmDC

[bestautochicago]

2018 BMW M5 First Drive: The King is Dead, Long Live the King

There was a time when the alpha-numeric “M5” held transcendental place in our automotive consciousness and struck fear in the hearts of AMG drivers. Unfortunately, this car’s immediate predecessor, the F10 M5 (2011-2016), was roundly criticized for being a luxury car with a big motor—a rather large, distant-feeling speed instrument and not much else. In a comparison test against the last-generation Mercedes-Benz E63 S AMG, of the fortified, overboosted 2014 M5 Competition Pack, senior features editor Jonny Lieberman wrote: “…the M5 feels like a bank vault with the speedometer always reading 100 mph.” That car, and others since, linger as reminders that the M Division, perhaps only temporarily, had lost its way. Even Cadillac has driven a supercharged V-8 wedge into the super sedan battlefield with its underappreciated and highly capable CTS-V. BMW had to react in a big way. They did.

Of course, some will argue the V10-powered E60 M5 (2005-2010) was a technical marvel, sprung from the last time BMW was participating in Formula 1 racing. Yet, that high-strung low-torque engine operated within too narrow a window to be an effective all-around super sedan. It was a car that was alternatively at five-tenths or 10/10ths with little between. Arguably, it’s not been since the first V-8-powered E39-generation M5 (1998-2003) was on the prowl that BMW held a winning hand in this uber-sedan war. We were reminded of just how special the E39 remains when BMW supplied one to drive during this program in Portugal. In fact, they brought an M5 from each era—and even a 1981 M535i progenitor—for us to drive on the road when it wasn’t our turn on track in the 2018 M5. This fact made us ponder if BMW and, more specifically, the M division were, in fact, reminding themselves of the unique magic that the M5 should contain and supply. It should be more than a fast 5 Series. It should, like that E39 did, have us asking, “Wait. BMW are actually going to sell this car? To anybody who can afford it? This thing is completely bonkers. No way.”

Hair-on-Fire Great

Well, guess what? The BMW M5 is once again, completely bonkers, hair-on-fire great in its current F90 form. Not only does it once again sound like a proper ne plus ultra sedan, but it is also scary fast yet has the poise and feedback it so lacked in the F10 era. It’s once again the proverbial ballerina body builder able to balance on one toe while holding a two-ton weight over its head with one hand behind its back. Technical director Frank Markus wrote a terrific deep-dive into all the nuts and bolts of what makes the 2018 BMW M5 work when he drove a prototype earlier this year. Suffice to say that one lap of the Estoril circuit in the new M5 thrashed and dashed any misplaced preconceptions about the first use of all-wheel drive in an M5 and the shift from a dual-clutch automated manual (or a honest DIY manual) in favor of a well-tuned ZF eight-speed automatic. This M5 is alive, eager, and ready for a fight. A highly revised and more powerful version of the previous 4.4-liter twin-turbo V-8 now makes 592 horsepower (officially 441 kW) and 553 lb-ft (750 Nm) of torque. By Frank’s count there are 270 combinations available with driver-selectable options for engine responsiveness, transmission, chassis, M xDrive (4WD/Sport 4WD/2WD, so, yes, a “drift” mode), stability control (DSC), etc. That’s still too many. Luckily, there are two prominent red steering wheel “preset” buttons (M1/M2) where you can store your favorite configurations for easy retrieval. Seated in the car on the track, we were asked to start with M1 that BMW reps had programmed.

Out Lap

The M1 was conservatively set with the engine/exhaust at full song but with the transmission in the second-most aggressive mode, non-Sport AWD setting, and full DSC for introductory laps. BMW claims a 0-62-mph (100 kph) time of just 3.4 seconds. That seems about right because the car was insanely fast out of the paddock and down to the first corner. What’s more, unlike the muted F10, this car sounded stupendously good—like that old E39! Besides having control flaps in the exhaust system, we’re told that a “Helmholtz” resonator fitted between the two branches contributes to it. Some of that glorious sound is, of course, “enhanced” with the car’s audio system, as well. BMW horses have always felt bigger than their numbers suggest, but the way the M5 lifts its nose and puts the power to the ground on throttle hints at the all-wheel drive working effectively. At that there’s a deep reserve of torque (553 lb-ft) from a mere 1,800 up to 5,600 rpm.

Arriving at the first several corners, the turn-in was crisp and accurate like a rear-drive car, but the eager, aggressive M5 suddenly went lazy and stubborn midturn. Despite the driveline defaulting to 2WD until the computer-controlled transfer case deems it necessary to allot power to the front wheels, the heavy hand of DSC was obvious. In this mode, the first corners were agonizingly, artificially slowed. Any attempt to alter the car’s conservative line and speed by frantically (or gently) manipulating the throttle to shift the car’s prodigious weight (estimated to be about 4,250 pounds) or yaw rate was met with a dead go-pedal until the front wheels were pointed straight. About half way around the 2.6-mile lap, I pressed the M2 button (ushering Sport 4WD and M Dynamic DSC) and ensured the shift protocol was the most aggressive available. As if I had loosened the car’s bridle and let the reins go, the M5 came alive beneath me; it began to shrink around me. With more power being directed to the rear wheels, the tail of the car was easily coaxed into gentle, measured oversteer. The steering (which I had switched to Comfort to get rid of unnecessary weight) began offering me genuine information about the front tires’ impending lack of grip. The car was so predictable that when I’d lift off the throttle, weight would transfer to the front, and I’d quickly flick the steering the other way to catch the slide and meter it with the throttle and/or the laser-precise steering. Despite its wheelbase growing an inch, overall length by 2, and width by 0.5 inch, weight is down by 50-90 pounds compared to the rear-drive F10 M5—and this is how an M5 should behave on a track.

The first time down the half-mile straight, the M5 piled on the speed as if it were in a vacuum without wind resistance. In what felt like a never-ending surge, and with each seamless, belching upshift, it just never stopped accelerating. All I could say to myself on that first lap and throughout that first sessions was: “Whoa. What. A. Motor!” For me, it defined the car in the morning, making the M5 feel like a uncaged beast that was ready to pick up asphalt and throw it at the cars following—which it did, and BMW reportedly replaced 10 windshields during the event.

On the Road

I was just getting comfortable. My hands had stopped sweating, and I had learned the track and just how much tail-out was allowed or discouraged by the car. I hadn’t yet dared look at the speedometer at the end of the straight. Too soon, however, the out lap, three hot laps, and one cool down were now behind us. We were assured that because it had rained on a previous group’s track day that there were plenty of M5-bespoke Pirelli P Zeros in the garage and that there would be afternoon hot-lapping. As we had planned, my co-driver for the afternoon road drive was none other than Jonny’s new Head2Head co-host, Jethro Bovington. And waiting for us in the parking lot was an identically equipped 2018 M5: Optional carbon-ceramic brakes (reducing corner weights by 50 pounds collectively), the M Driver’s Pack (raising the speed limiter from 155 to 189 mph), and 20-inch wheels with 275/35R20 and 285/35R20 tires.

The first order of business was to get out of town by negotiating a single roundabout then charging down an onramp onto the A16 headed north. Jethro wasted no time pressing the M2 button, and we blasted down the highway with the sat-nav system gently giving us guidance. It wasn’t long before we had arrived at the first toll station, and I asked Jethro, “If we were to arrive at the next one ‘too soon,’ would you expect to be fined for speeding?”

“I think that’s an urban myth meant to keep people from speeding,” he replied. “I’ve never heard of anybody getting nicked like that in all these years on European A roads. The speed cameras are real, but I don’t believe they time you between toll gates.”

At the first highway transition, Jethro really leaned on the car, and it just stuck to the line. “It’s really good at hiding its weight, isn’t it?” he asked. “The grip is tremendous, and it truly does feel rear drive. And this motor! Gawd.”

After a time we’d gotten off the A-routes and switched seats for the country road portion. At the first corner, I dabbed the brake and only the seat belts kept us from slamming into the dashboard. “Wow, these brakes take some getting used to, right?” I said.

We were going a good clip between towns, and interestingly, the nav system lagged behind so often that we missed several turns by the time we reached junctures. Besides that, the M5 that felt all-conquering on track and on the highway it suddenly felt all knees and elbows; the proverbial bull in a china shop. “Boy is this car big,” I said. “It takes up the entire width of this little road, and I don’t like those game-over drainage troughs one bit.”

The ride quality, too, suffered a great deal on broken pavement and even a short stretch of Belgian blocks through a small Portuguese hamlet. “Yeah, you really, really have to want this M5 to put up with the ride out here in the real world—even on the softest settings, it’s sports-car firm,” Jethro added. “Pretty punishing.” We both wondered why BMW hadn’t ventured into magnetorheological dampers yet. This would seem the perfect candidate for them. Licensing? Hmm.

The conversation continued. “I think most people will be more satisfied with a less-mental M550i xDrive,” Jethro added.

“Agree, but I’m glad they went all in with the M5,” I said. “Let’s get back to the track and queue up.”

Session Two

With the morning’s wisdom, new-found confidence in, and respect for the new M5, we took our place in line for a second opportunity to really probe the car’s limits on fresh tires behind two pro drivers, a DTM champ and Blancpain GT competitor/rising star. No sooner were we belted in our cars, M2 button pressed, than the pros leading the group of three chase M5s at a time wooded the throttle and did a glorious burnout in pit lane. Oh, it was go-fast time alright. The lead M5s were the liveried version of the Moto GP pace car that was curiously shod with Michelin Pilot Sport 4 S tires—not Pirellis. At any rate we were off and hell bent for leather.

If the morning session was all about appreciating the motor, then the afternoon was devoted to the chassis and driveline and finding the perfect line. The pro drivers were goading us to go faster and faster, and finally, we were at the limit of the car. I finally caught a glimpse of the speedo right before I got on the brakes into Turn One. It read, “270 kph” or 168 mph, to us yanks. No wonder the cars’ top speeds were raised for the event. We would’ve been on the 155-mph limiter well before the first turn. With all three lights indicating the most aggressive transmission mapping, it ripped matched-rev downshifts like a twin-clutch. It’s utterly indistinguishable in shift speed and intelligence. Turn after turn, I grew more confident in adding throttle sooner and sooner coming out of the corner. I found the less-strict limits of MDM mode (still not enough yaw to be truly fun) and switched it off completely. I didn’t delve into 2WD drift mode, but the incongruous thing, however, was that even with DSC shut off, it was so easy to dance the car around the track—clipping curbs, drifting wide on the exits, positioning the car inch-perfect, finding the ABS threshold, and backing off slightly to modulate the brakes into corners. The M5 simply does everything you want it to do and nothing you don’t. The M xDrive system is so fluid that a driver can scarcely detect its carbon-clutch pack shifting power to the front, and the Active M Dynamic differential out back effectively shifts torque side to side without using brakes. The harmony of all of this is astounding and what makes the new M5 deserving of the old, highly revered badge. What a car. What a supremely entertaining and capable super sedan it is.

OK, it’s great and all. So what’s the tariff?

How much would you expect to pay for all of this? At this point, only base pricing has been announced at $103,595, or precisely $1,800 below a comparable 2018 Mercedes-AMG E63 S 4Matic. Tantalizing, isn’t it? Adding the historical cost of the M5’s carbon-ceramic brakes ($9,250) and the Competition package (now M Driver’s pack) that includes the 20-inch forged aluminum wheels and specific tuning ($7,300) would indicate we were driving M5s that would easily exceed $120,000 before interior options. And it’s worth it. The last E63 S 4Matic we tested cost $145,160. Rest assured, however, that we will line up the next Head2Head with these two cross town rivals in a few months. Their on-paper credentials are startlingly close, and it’ll be a cage match for the ages. Watch this space.

2018 BMW M5 BASE PRICE $103,595 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD/AWD, 5-pass, 4-door sedan ENGINE 4.4L/592-hp/553-lb-ft twin-turbo DOHC 32-valve V-8 TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic CURB WEIGHT 4,250 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 117.7 in LENGTH X WIDTH X HEIGHT 195.5 x 74.9 x 56.8 in 0-60 MPH 3.2 sec (MT est) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON 15/21/17 mpg (MT est) ENERGY CONSUMPTION, CITY/HWY 225-160 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 1.13 lb/mile ON SALE IN U.S. Spring 2018

Source: http://chicagoautohaus.com/2018-bmw-m5-first-drive-the-king-is-dead-long-live-the-king/

from Chicago Today https://chicagocarspot.wordpress.com/2017/12/19/2018-bmw-m5-first-drive-the-king-is-dead-long-live-the-king/

[junker-town]

A day in the life of an inveterate MLB gambler in 2038

What will happen when betting on baseball isn’t just legal, but incredibly easy?

Before the game

The security lines are long because President Grohl is attending the game, but the slow line gives me time to finalize everything. The Reds to win, of course. They aren’t going to pay off that big because they’re such heavy favorites, but they’ve been playing .700 ball for almost two full months. The Nationals ... not so much.

It’s everything else that takes some more thought.

The over-under on Kumar Rocker is five innings, and I go with the over. The second-time-through-the-order nerds wouldn’t approve, but Jay Bruce is something of a throwback manager, and he lets his veterans go deeper into games than most. It’s one of the reasons Rocker threw 150 innings last year, and he shouldn’t have a problem with this Nationals’ lineup.

Over-under on runs scored for both teams is 8.5, which is low, but I still take the under. Rocker has been one of the best pitchers in baseball for almost two decades now, and he’s actually getting stronger with age. The Nationals’ lineup is, like, eight guys they found at the bus terminal, but Hunter Hunter can pitch a little, so it should be a low-scoring game.

Over-under on strikeouts for both teams is 25.5, and I go over. Might be the easiest bet of the game. Rocker’s averaged 16 strikeouts per nine just on his own for the last two years, which is better than the league average, and Hunter’s no slouch there, either.

Over-under on home runs is 2.5, and I take the under. It’s been a while since I’ve watched a game with fewer than two homers, but I’m all in on Rocker. And Hunter, too, I guess.

By the time I’m in my seat with a hot dog, I’m feeling pretty good. Maybe I won’t need to pick up extra shifts after all.

First inning

This is a fucking disaster.

Rocker has nothing. It’s like someone showed him the painting in the attic, and now he’s pitching to his age. He’s throwing weak-ass 97-mph meatballs, and the Nats can’t miss.

After the third homer of the inning, I delete the slip with the homer prop bet. When Bruce trudges out to the mound before the inning is even over, I delete the other slip. I’d be willing to bet the Nationals haven’t scored six runs in the first inning in any game over the last 20 years, and now they’re pummelling a Hall of Famer? The exact asshole I put my faith in?

I scream at Rocker as he leaves the mound. Something about his wife, I don’t know, but it sure makes some heads turn. Not my proudest moment.

Counterpoint: Screw that guy.

Finn Raloit comes in, and you can smell the smoke coming from his shoulder. He throws one pitch — one — and it’s a 99-percent hit probability off the bat. Here comes the seventh run, and this stupid, stupid crowd is going nuts. They haven’t seen a game like this all season.

The next batter breaks his bat, and the crowd groans because the two-percent hit probability comes up on their screen at the same time. Except it falls. It falls right in front of that fat tub of Trout in left. The guy’s, like, 50, and I get that he’s still a draw because of the chase, but why can’t they just park him at DH? Why does Bruce keep playing him in the field? After the last out, I let Trout know about my opinions. More heads turn, and I get a warning notification. Looks like we got ourselves a narc.

In the bottom of the first, the Reds hit two dingers, screwing up the other bet, and I consider literally printing out the slips so that I can eat them. Just om nom nom nom, right down into my stomach, where the acid and bile will turn the bets into literal shit.

There’s still a chance that the Reds could win, I guess. The Nationals’ bullpen is just that bad.

Second inning

Not as bad as the Reds’ bullpen, apparently. The idiots. The absolute idiots. It’s 12-2 with two outs, and I want to throw up.

Let’s see ... $5,000 on the Reds to win, with $4,000 on all of the side bets. That’s $21,000. Two months’ rent, give or take. I message my boss about those extra shifts, and he responds in about five seconds to tell me they’re all filled. Even if you want more than the standard 80, you can’t get it. This is bullshit.

Third inning

Printing out the slips is harder than it should be. Just one kiosk in the stadium? When I was younger, there was one in every other section.

But I get it done, and I start taking bites. The chewing is pissed off and deliberate, and I don’t care who’s staring at me. Get down in my belly. Become the literal shit that you are.

Fourth inning

Drinkin’.

Fifth inning

The itch starts again. I can’t scratch it, I absolutely can’t. I know how this ends. The voices in my head aren’t as persuasive as they used to be, which is a good thing.

Then I start running through the different scenarios.

If I can’t get more shifts, there’s no way I’m making rent until the middle of next month. A three-day notice will expire on the ninth, and I know those assholes will file on me the next day.

I’m not calling my parents again. It’s humiliating enough when they actually give me the money, but they haven’t done that in years.

Everything I could sell is gone. The Playstation IX, the multipass, the embots, the microwave tower, the creepy-ass dog robot from Boston Scientific that used to keep me company and rummage through my drawers while I slept. I’m not sure if I could liquidate everything I own and come up with $10,000, which is depressing.

The only thing standing between me and a shelter is a hot streak. It’s the only way.

So I turn on the notifications for the Official MLB Wager app.

God help me.

Sixth inning

The trick is not getting overwhelmed. The only problem is that I’ve never managed this trick successfully.

PROP BET: WILL VLADIMIR GUERRERO III REACH BASE SAFELY (+150)

He’s just a child, but screw it, he’s hot. I look to the right of the screen, and the bet is on.

PROP BET: 1ST PITCH BALL? (+95)

He’ll get ahead in the count. I look to the bottom and adjust the bet to $1000, then look to the left and confirm.

PROP BET: RUN SCORES THIS INNING? (+160)

If you’re going to bet on a runner, you might as well bet on the run. And, shit, this makes me remember that all of the inning prop bets need to be in before the inning starts. Lightning round.

PROP BET: NUMBER OF STRIKEOUTS THIS INNING, MORE THAN ONE? (+110)

Yes.

PROP BET: NUMBER OF STRIKEOUTS THIS INNING, MORE THAN THREE? (+2000)

Ha, ha. Sure, screw it, swing for the fences.

MLB.COM WARNING: YOU HAVE PLACED FIVE BETS WITHIN ONE MINUTE. PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YOU ARE AWARE OF THE RISKS OF GAMBLING, AND CALL 1-800-STOP-BET IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.

Shut up, nerd. I scroll through the waiver and acknowledge.

PROP BET: ERROR COMMITTED IN INNING? (+200)

This is exactly the kind of bet a player can swing in a blowout without drawing any attention at all, especially the minimum-salary scrubs playing the garbage innings. Hell yes, I want to bet on an error.

PROP BET: WALK ALLOWED IN INNING? (+110)

Green-ass rookie on the mound. Yep.

PROP BET: OVER-UNDER ON GROUND-BALLS in play, TWO (+110)

Uh, crap, is Perez a sinker guy, or is he ... uh, fine, fine, yes, over.

Damn, too slow for more bets. The inning starts. The first pitch is a fastball right down the middle, and Guerrero doesn’t even pretend to be interested. Idiot.

PROP BET: 2ND PITCH BALL? (+95)

Yeah.

Guerrero swings at a pitch that bounces. Idiot.

PROP BET: 3RD PITCH BALL? (+90)

Sure.

It’s a ball. Finally. This is where it turns around.

PROP BET: BALL IN PLAY? (+120)

Yes.

Guerrero pops it up. So that bet hits, but the earlier one about reaching base is a miss, and they cancel each other out.

I’ve never even heard of this guy coming up to the plate.

PROP BET: 1ST PITCH BALL? (+95)

Sure ...

Seventh inning

PROP BET: 1ST PITCH BALL? (+95)

Yes. It’s a ball.

PROP BET: 2ND PITCH STRIKE? (+95)

Nailed it.

PROP BET: 3RD PITCH BALL? (+95)

Yes, and the hitter waves through a lazy breaking ball like an absolute asshole.

PROP BET: 4TH PITCH BALL? (+95)

Yes. Missed, dammit.

PROP BET: 5TH PITCH BALL? (+95)

Yes. It hits.

PROP BET: WALK ON NEXT PITCH? (+110)

Yes. But it’s fouled back. Idiot ...

Eighth inning

Cut off. Account empty. I use the cash in my wallet to buy a final beer. The strongest they have is 6.1 percent, which is about a third of the strength I’m looking for.

This is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad.

Ninth inning

A miracle.

Every day for the last two seasons, I’ll spend a few bucks on the MLB Powerball 10-Team Parlay, just for laughs. I pick the same teams to win, every time, unless they’re playing each other: Cubs, Royals, Astros, Pirates, Rays, Angels, Braves, Brewers, Indians, and Tigers.

It spells out “CRAP RABBIT.”

Which makes me laugh.

The odds are roughly .09 percent to hit on all 10 teams, which means a jackpot on a 10-dollar bet would be something like a 1,000 bucks. But today I put $100 on it. No reason, either. Was just feeling it.

All of those teams won today. Every single one of them. I’ve never hit on one of these.

I just need to find the slip.

The state lottery is literally the only place in the world that still prints shit out.

Why do they still print shit out? Idiots.

It’s not in my pockets. I check six times before I check another six times.

I know I bought one today. I always do.

I know I bought one today.

When I find it, hey, look at that, there’s another game tomorrow. And the day after that. And, well, there are like 1,000 games every year, and they can’t all be this shitty.

They can’t all be this shitty.

I just need to find the slip.