#i want cold and i want rain. i hate wearing shorts and vests yet that is what I'm having to wear. i sweat too much so I'm hot and drenched.

[umbracirrus]

Who the hell decided that 24⁰C was 'nice and warm' - it's fucking sweltering, I'm drinking so much yet I'm still dehydrated, my skin keeps breaking out, and it's just completely unpleasant.

[poptod]

rantipole (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: rantipole (v.) - to be wild and reckless

Word Count: 2.9k

You know him well – too well, maybe. Your mother said that about two years into your friendship, claiming you 'needed other friends,' which you never actually got despite her insistence. Watching him grow with you and never counting the days, wasting away your youth in all the best ways possible, it was hard to want more than that. Him and his long eyelashes, the dusting of the freckles across his cheekbones. That was special. That was yours. He was special. You were his; sometimes you wondered if he in his entirety belonged to you. Would you even deserve it if you did?

Unlike you, he had lots of friends. Not that he was very close with any of them; according to you, there were two very distinctive sides of him, and a third that was false. The third was the way you met him, acting a polite little Christian boy in front of his parents – you'd thought him so sweet and innocent. Then he opened his mouth and the bitter scent of alcohol scented filthy words that would taint Lucifer himself. That was the second side of him, the one he used in front of his classmates, the one the general world knew, the one that every girl fell for, the one every boy yearned to both hate and love. It took a long while before you discovered his first side, though, and it was one you were happy to never share. Thoughtful, with every remembered fact and logged memory that made up the image of you that he knew. He remembered the way you took your coffee, not that he put it to use very often, and he remembered your siblings and your pets, your favorite color and each joke you couldn't help but laugh at. It was sweet. He was sweet, but you'd never tell him that.

For the longest time you had no idea as to why he bothered to spend time with you. He had other people much more interesting, and your mother wondered the same thing – she knew of his reputation around school. The question dissipated after a few years, vanishing as fast as it had come. Some things simply were that way, and it just so happened he was built for you as you were built for him, matching for the sake of matching. Nothing else seemed important, certainly not your massive crush on him that started around the age of 15.

The two of you were rather different. It was probably why your mother was ever so dubious about your friendship, which, in hindsight looking back at your childhood, was a valid query. You were silent. You never raised your hand in class and your comments to the general populace consisted mainly of 'excuse me,' 'thank you,' and 'sorry.' He was sultry, outspoken at the worst of times and coy at the best, which you adored about him. Like a show only you two could ever know, you pretended around others, put up false personalities and never minded the comments on your stark friendship.

It was sometime in later high school years that he started drinking heavily. This fact isn't worth mentioning for any horrible reason; he did not become violent, he did not use harsh words, he did not change as a person. He did, however, most definitely become a frequent user, and while this fact by itself means very little it marks the point where, from your point of view, your relationship pulled a whole 180.

You could clearly remember the first time he got drunk in front of you, for better or worse (though, with your mental health in question, probably for worse). A school dance where some freshman laced the juice bowl with cheap, strong alcohol they'd gotten from their parents. The teachers never found out who it was, only that it had to be a freshman, which you and Merriel found hilarious. At the time, however, he fully indulged himself, swinging haphazardly from the metal drain pipes while you watched in unaltered silence. He'd sung, something you couldn't understand or bother yourself with attempting to recognize, and continued to do so for the next ten minutes. The second you tried to help him, reach your hand out to stop his dizzying swinging, your touch shocked him into some sick form of sobriety.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, tighter than he'd ever held you and pulled you far away from the drainpipes out back of the school. Trampling muddy feet through the hallways he led you to the janitors closet – a place the two of you frequented when up to mischief – pushed you inside, followed you, locked the door behind the two of you, and with that the light went out. You felt your back hit the wall behind you with little grace, a firm hand on your shoulder pushing you into it and forcing you to stay. Then his breath, hot and harsh against your skin, brushed up your neck, stopping right below your ear where he proceeded to bite at you, drawing the slightest amount of blood as you yelped quietly. His lips met yours and in an instant your heart burnt to ash, your mind running with a million thoughts and your body forcing a thousand actions out of you. You'd never done that before, never been touched like that, certainly not in such a passionate fashion as his. Desperate to feel your heat his hands ran up your shirt, grasping tight around your bare waist and pulling you closer.

That was six years ago. From that night onwards he never stopped, and the situation mutated into something you never saw happening at any point in your life. At least twice a week he would invite you to a night out (you always said yes), and usually in one of those evenings he would drink to blackout, pull you into a closet, and kiss you fiercer than any of your partners ever would.

Tonight is one of those nights. It hasn't happened yet but you can already see it on the horizon, growing closer with each shot he took, competing against a heavy-set man wearing a leather biker's vest. You sat at the bar, watching them sit across from each other and down their drinks. Fortunately for the both of you, the biker-man's friend decided to fund the expedition, which made Merriel lose what little self restraint he had.

After the tenth-or-so shot they're fully inebriated (it didn't really help that he'd had two beers before this), swaying in their seats as you just laugh, watching as they attempt to force down another. Five more and the biker passes out, Merriel shouting out his victory in a slurred voice. Around him the audience cheers, patting him on the back as he tries to stand, making the short way back to you.

"Impressed?" He asks, his tongue heavy in his mouth. You chuckle, shaking your head – he's taken more and been fine, not that he should've.

"Yes. Terribly impressed," is what you say instead. He grins wide, the expression melting as his gaze lingers on you, on your lips, as he bites at his lower lip and his eyes glaze over.

Reaching towards you his fingers wrap around your wrist, something you've grown to know as familiar, something that makes you both sick and excited. He pulls you off your stool, dragging you through the disordered crowd towards the back door of the bar. In an instant the cold air hits you, distant jazz music echoing in the empty alley filled with trash and mysterious fluids. Curling his fingers tighter around you he pushes you up against the brick wall, pressing his chest right against yours till the scent of his intoxication fills your head, dizzying your thoughts till his lips meld with yours. He's soft, he's always been soft but his actions say otherwise. He grips at your hair, tugging and biting at your lip, practically grinding into you as soft pants fall between you.

"God, I love you," he mutters, the words kissing themselves into you, shocking you into stillness.

"What?" You breath out, trying to stop his frantic hands searching your body. It's the first time he's said that.

"I want you to be mine, entirely," he admits, just barely leaving your space to say the words before he attempts to lean in again, which you respond to with pushing him away. Your mind is melting, and now not just at his touch – he's never said anything even remotely like that, not in any drunken make-out session he's initiated or in any holy, quiet space. He's not that kind of person, he doesn't say things like that.

"You're drunk," you say at last as he stares into your eyes. You should've said that sooner, six years sooner, but you were wrapped up in the secrecy, the pleasure. You should've said something sooner.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he mumbles, his accent growing thicker as he pulls you closer by the waist. You acquiesce, letting gentle kisses patter against your jawline and neck, against your lips and your temple. As your eyelids flutter shut from his touch, the evening dissipates into nothing as it always does.

In the morning, you wake up first, your hair a mess when you rise from your untidy bed. A glance to the side and half the sheets are off the bed, Merriel snoring on the floor with his limbs splayed out. Trying to keep your laugh quiet, you leave the room on tip toe, shutting the door behind you as you go to make breakfast. When he wakes up he sits at the table and you say nothing. He doesn't need to know what you heard last night, and you don't need confusion and chaos in your life.

Four days later he invites you to a party that his coworker is hosting at some sort of bar, a much nicer one than the last time he promises. Unfortunately, he alerts you of this occasion about an hour before it's supposed to start, making you rush through your clothing choices and styling. Halfway through finishing your hair he grabs your hand, tugging you out of the bathroom and rushing you outside where you grab a taxi in the rain.

"You can't just tell me when things are happening an hour before they're happening," you say in the car, fidgeting in your clothes and anxiously checking your hair in the rear view mirror.

"T' be fair, I didn't know it was happening. I jus' got a call from him," he explains with a shrug, feeling a whole lot more nonchalant than you felt, your hand clutched on your wallet.

Blue lights shine onto the wet pavement, bright lines striking against the rain as you open the car door, stepping outside. Merriel puts his hand on the small of your back, rushing you inside to avoid the rain. Once inside the touch ceases, not that you really notice – that's something he often does. The bar sat in the left corner of the large room, the blue tiles of the counter spanning a good amount of space, sitting opposite of the raised platform where a jazz band plays. In the hazy smoke from the many lit cigarettes you could see the dim blue lights, shadowing your skin and obscuring the specifics of everyone's faces.

"How could Pat afford a band?" You ask in a whisper, leaning in so only Merriel could hear you.

"I dunno, I don't think this is his joint, if y' know what I mean," he says, not turning to you, his eye caught on some girl ordering a Shirley temple at the bar.

"Go have fun," you say with a small chuckle, pushing him forward. He stumbles slightly but takes the steps toward her, and from there you look away, trying to interest yourself in the bass line of the melody swirling in the smoke.

For the most part you don't drink alcohol. If you ever got drunk with Merriel around you knew how it would turn out – you knew you'd wake up with regret, probably with him naked in your bed because for some reason when he's drunk he can't get enough of you. There was only one time you got drunk, and that was alone at home in high school, and the entire time you couldn't stop thinking about him. His mannerisms, the short and quick movements of his fingers when he's anxious, the way he sucks in a breath whenever he's in awe. At the time you couldn't get it out of your head, and now watching him flirt with the Shirley temple girl you find yourself so much like you were in high school. When his fingers drag over her face, pushing her black hair out of her face you almost break the coaster you'd been fiddling with. You promptly look away again.

Over the course of the night several people ask you to dance, the music picking up as the lights grow into a dizzying intensity, but you decline each time. Instead you just watch, you watch Merriel drift from girl to girl. His belt is tight around his hips, showing off his thin waist with the button down that bundles around his chest and arms, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. What started as neat, trimmed hair becomes messy and unkempt throughout his avid dancing. You're content to watch, or that's what you tell yourself – either way you remain unmoved from your seat, the pop in your hands fizzing away as it looses its cold. You don't bother to keep track of how many drinks Merriel has had either, since you can already tell from the way he sways on his feet and the slur in his accent.

Somewhere around midnight he approaches you, sitting in the chair beside yours. Resting his chin on his palm, he stares at you, absorbing your entirety, or something like that; it's a little hard to tell when his stare is discomforting. He's got wide eyes that look like he's gone into shell shock sometimes, an intensity you can very rarely stand. You certainly can't stand it this time, so you look back out into the crowd, pretending you can't feel him burning holes into your face.

"(Y/N)," he says, and you turn to him. After that he says nothing, just reaching for you, fingers brushing against your cheek just like how he brushed the hair away from the Shirley temple girl.

"You alright?" You ask in full awareness that no, he's not alright.

In full view of the crowd he leans in, kissing you before you could even process that he'd grown closer, moving soft and tender against you, yearning for your touch against his. You want to pull away, you feel sick when you think about how anyone could see, but your body thinks otherwise. Reaching for him you can feel your fingers wrapping around his wrist, feeling his pulse rushing against yours. He pulls you closer. You don't know how to say no when all you can do is love him better.

"People can see us," you finally say in a quiet voice, barely able to say the words before his lips meet yours once more.

"Why the hell do you care?"

"I dunno, I just thought..." he pulls away, never breaking eye contact as he leans back in his seat. "I thought you'd mind."

Usually when he drunk-kisses you he does it in private.

"I don't care if the world knows I love you," he says, the second time he's said that, and you're still in shock from the first time he said it so your stupor only grows worse. As you try to process his words he leans in again, his hand coming to the back of your head and forcing you closer, closer still, like you give him purpose, like a moment without you is a moment unworthy of living remembrance.

"You're drunk," you say in a stumble, unsure of what else to say.

"Then remind me in the mornin'," he replies in a murmur. It's exactly what he said last time, and just like last time his hand moves to your waist and pulls you into his world of electrifying touch.

You say nothing in the morning.

This becomes the new routine – get drunk, confess your love, get 'rejected,' and forget in the morning. It repeats over and over again till you almost grow sick of it. He can't say anything when he's sober, and you don't trust that, so you never remind him and he never brings it up. You don't even know if he remembers. He probably doesn't, considering he never acts as though anything has changed, but you know he's smart. He bides his time, he's witty, and he's cunning – if he has something planned he's made sure you know nothing. It's a trait you admire and abhor.

Maybe one day you'll tell him. You'll tell him how you love his voice, the way he mumbles his words and the intensity he carries constantly, how he dresses and the way he walks. He'll know you adore him for everything he is, and yeah – he probably won't believe you. He'll probably say 'I don't deserve this.' He'll treat you like you're precious, like you're fragile and any false move will break your trust and ruin your relationship.

Maybe one day, you keep telling yourself, watching him dance with other people. Maybe one day he'll know you're his, that you've been his the entire time, that he never needed to lie or try so hard, that you simply liked him for who he is.

Who knows.

[szopenhauer]

if you have any pets, were they adopted from the humane society? my (now ex) friend had a stray give birth on her yard and she gave away all the puppies besides the one she kept, I chose the most scared and fat one lol

what kind of cheese is your favorite, or no cheese at all? Gouda

do you like home design, like picking out paint colors and furniture? love it <3

have you seen any of the old james bond movies? I hate James Bond movies, tried few and they were so lame

have you ever been in a hot air balloon? and if not, would you ever want to go in one? I’d like to try, maybe someday

do your parents buy you something on a daily basis? food 

is anyone else in the room with you right now? not rn

do you collect anything? shitload of stuff

do you have a pool in your back yard? no and don’t want to own one

do you watch youtube videos often? how often is often?

do you wear mascara? no, I don’t see the point of mascara tbh

do your parents fight?  sigh...

have you ever watched a movie that’s in a completely different language, so you had to read sub-titles? plenty

do people with yellow teeth disgust you? mine are yellow, it’s hard to keep them well having GERD :(

do you wear rings? at times

would you like to have a universal remote, like in the movie, click? hmm...

do you get any magazines in the mail? my mom does

what was the last picture you uploaded to your facebook? snapchat one with peach filter

what’s something that you do that you know hurts people close to you? live?...

what was the last board game that you played? either Scrabble or Hollywood

do you get bloated at all after you eat? I have cascade stomach, GERD and IBS so...

when is your birthday - in winter, spring, summer, or fall? winter :(

you must pick (no, “neither” bullshit please): dying by being run over by a train or being thrown from the top of the eiffel tower? tower

who’s the most overrated celebrity of them all (yes, i know they’re all overrated - but pick one)? Beyonce

what do you wear the most - sneakers, flats, heels, boots, or do you just go barefoot? slippers XD

what’s better - short sleeve tops or tanks? short sleeve

black, blue, or red ink? blue

do you sometimes splurge on expensive, sexy lingerie? my most expensive lingerie (which is sporty) costed less than 20 PLN

what’s your favorite food group? grains?

don’t you just love sushi? never tried and don’t wanna, gross

if you walked in on your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/important significant other cheating on you - how would you react? I have several scenarios in my head 

how old were you when you lost your virginity? what even is virginity? you can have sex without losing it anyway

what annoys you the most about modern technology? hard to tell

do you prefer your chicks with long hair, short hair, or somewhere in between? I always went for girls with no longer than shoulder length yet not shorter than mine but now I date someone with very long hair

do you turn around when someone yells “hey!!!” even if you’re not sure if they’re referring to you or someone else? might

have you ever had that oh-so-embarrassing moment when you think some hot guy/girl is waving at you and/or flirting with you, so you wave back, only to realize they were directing it at the person behind you? they weren’t hot

who was the last person to come back into your life? my gf

is there anyone at your house outside of your family? in the garden

who was the last person you had a conversation with in person? my dad

what was the last piece of jewelry that you purchased? for myself or someone else?

how old are each of your siblings? 30+

how many different conversations do you have going right now? 0

do you think it’s weird to wear socks to sleep? it’s not, unless you sleep naked

have you ever gone swimming in a lake? yup

do you usually buy a new bathing suit every summer? I didn’t buy any swimsuit for ages, don’t own even one

what sucks most about the computer you end up using the most? what doesn’t suck about it, ugh!

what’s something you want to say to someone at the moment? I’m not sure

will you have sexual intercourse within the next two weeks? I won’t

has a boyfriend/​​girlfriend ever put alcohol/drugs before you? nah

do you like when people call you things like “baby”, “sweetie”, “hun”, etc? certain pet names are fine

will this friday be a good one? it’s not...

what’s wrong with you right now? everything?

have you been a happy, angry, or sad person lately? angry and sad

are you wasting your time on someone? hope not 

when’s the last time you cried yourself to sleep? days ago

have you ever been in a perfect relationship? relationships aren’t perfect because no one is perfect and that’s ok

when was the last time you completely broke down? last week

honestly, have you ever kissed anyone with a name that starts with j? nope

are you nice to the people you dislike? if I have to, I prefer to avoid them 

are you and the last person you kissed in a relationship? we are

your ex shows up randomly at your house, what do you say? no comment

would you rather date someone who is extremely protective or not protective at all? why do we have to choose extremes?

does sex mean love? to me

have you ever fallen asleep on someone? as a baby

have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? more than once

plans for tomorrow? nothing have you ever ridden a skateboard? tried the main thing you can’t leave your house without? clothes, I won’t leave naked does anyone know your password besides you? just me what are you listening to? Melanie Martinez when was the last time you changed in front of someone? this month what’s the closest black thing to you? what I’m wearing, computer mouse and keyboard too, my cellphone next to me is also black what were you doing at 8:00 am? fallen asleep again are you happier single or in a relationship? we’ll see if you had to get a piercing, what do you get? normal earrings in lobes you can get a puppy or a new car. which do you choose? car, I have a dog and don’t want another at least soon have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? my father is my bestie did you get a full 8 hours of sleep last night? it seems like it have you ever been arrested? noooo

what is a difference between the last two people you hugged? one is a female and one is a male  where is the next place you will go? for a walk - forest probably why did you kiss the last person you kissed? we’re dating

do you say sexy a lot? I don’t recall using that word  when did you last throw up? years ago? do you like to have long hair or short hair? short what is your favorite place you have traveled? Ełk? where do you keep your money? that’s personal what was the weather like today? warm do you want to cut your hair? meh what is your favorite place to shop? thrift? are you over the age of 25? I am are you going to have a good night? hopefully when was the last time you did the dishes? I just washed the knife

do you and your friends trade/borrow clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc.? no way

is your birthday ever on a holiday? which one? it was always on free from school time (ferie zimowe) and my friends been basically always sick so they couldn’t come 

are you friends with your neighbors? I say “goodmorning” to part of them and that’s all

do you think its weird when people talk to their pets like they’re people? not that I have whole conversations with mine but I happen to speak to them when I want to

do you like uggs? they’re great for winter slippers :3

describe what you typically wear on a hot summer day: T-shirt, sweatpants/leggings/pajama pants, panties/undies, socks, slippers or slip on shoes

what about a cold winter day? underwear, tights (when it’s very cold - under leggings), leggings (unless I’m home then sweatpants/pajama pants), socks, boots (if not slippers of course), long sleeves shirt, tunic or oversized t-shirt, sweater, vest, jacket, scarf, hat, fingerless gloves

do you like coffee? ewww, disgusting

do you like flip flops? same

do you like rain? especially it’s sound at night

do you like horses? they’re fine

what is the deepest pool you have jumped into? where? I don’t jump into pools or lakes/rivers

does it annoy you when people open your mail or text messages? people don’t do that :o

what magazine do you buy the new issue of each month? Moje mieszkanie

what is your favorite farm animal? chicken

have you ever driven a golf cart? I’m against golf so...

if a genie gave you 1 wish, what would it be? health, for all, forever

what is something that you shouldn’t like but do anyways? ask God

is there something you love dearly but knew you’d be made fun of for it? I guess

who is someone you always want to be happy, even if you aren’t happy alongside them? those close to me

does it take you a long time to get over someone you liked? it’s complicated

have you ever gone a week or more not thinking of your boyfriend/girlfriend that much? does it sadden you, or make you happy you don’t completely depend on a person? I didn’t go whole week without thinking about them at least once wtf 

is there someone who ruined your life? do you forgive this person? most of those ppl didn’t apologise, most of them don’t know or care, most of them are not part of my life

have you ever questioned your sexuality? when was this? how did it end? I thought I must call myself bi because I dated a guy even tho I wasn’t really into them but I realized that even having sex doesn’t mean I’m not asexual - trying things make you more sure of smth instead of changing who you are       

have you ever felt suicidal? constantly

do you know anyone who has had a miscarriage? or someone who can’t have kids at all? both are more common than you think

what is something you wish would have ended differently (ex. friendship or relationship)? what if I wanted some things to never end? does that count?

type the alphabet and stop at the letter of the last person you kissed: ABCDEFGHIJKLM eventually ABCDEFG (short version of the first name) eventually ABCD (surname) how was your day overall? it’s going so fast because I can’t sit down for long, parents call me every single minute to help them have you kissed someone more than 20 times? I didn’t count but who knows

if you married the last person you texted, what would your last name be? won’t tell you :P how often do you hold back what you want to say? sigh, it’s complicated it’s 2 in the morning and you get a text message, who is it most likely? my gf ever cried while you were on the phone with someone? not many times but still how do you know the last male you texted? he’s my parent do you think the last person you kissed cares for you? they say and try to show that they do  do you laugh a lot? as for such broken person it’s A LOT  are you good at giving directions? I’m pretty bad at that what does your mom call you? by one of the versions of my name duh are you afraid of roller coasters? I’m afraid I’d puke  where do you sing the most, in the car, the shower or everywhere? in front of the computer and when I’m home alone which happens very rarely are you wearing any make up right now? I don’t even own any makeup are you nice to everyone? pfft is it hard for you to be happy for someone else? oh well...

do you like bread crust or do you prefer it cut off? depends, usually eat it tho

what is the worst/hardest drug you’ve been offered, but declined to partake in? nothing hard 

do you think you could ever have an abortion if you unexpectedly turned up pregnant? I don’t want to think about it

is there a color shirt you’d never wear? tie dye or some tiny pattern that makes my head spin 

is there a situation where you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? what I don’t regret?...

would you ever bleach your hair platinum blonde? for a movie role

do you like the band mgmt?  I know couple of songs by them

do you like vanilla candles? I’m not into candles 

[shadowess]

Vent

I am drunk now. I think I am.. am I? it’s hard to tell. I think I am. I thought drinking some good old Woodstock Bourbon would take care of my anxiety. Apparently, it doesn’t work like that. I sit at the bar, breathing slowly, hood up. I am Shadow. Creator. Writer. Fantasist. I’ve been hear many times. Many years. Long before you walked and will continue to be long after you cease to be. The oversized light bulbs that illuminate the room make me smile. They’re both comedic, yet somehow classic. A giant lightbulb hung from the ceiling, twisted robe it’s only anchor. No band tonight. Which is unusual, normally The Last Drop had a good old Irish Band playing every Friday. It was what they were famous for. Afterall, it’s what one could expect from a good old Irish Pub in Australia. Looking up slightly from my slouched position is look out the window, it’s dark out there. Rain pittering down flicking the glass of the windows. I don’t look forward to going home. But then again. Where is home? No one knows. I don’t know. Well.. I do.. sort of. My home is with my babies. My cats. The only things that make me not give up. Because I love them. Not much else to live for though. Well. There are my stories but those are going nowhere. I start to rock back and forth as I close my eyes, feeling sleepy. I can’t feel my anxiety. Well.. that’s a lie. I can feel it. But I can numb it down to nothing almost. If I can block it. Yawning I continue my rocking. Winter is coming. No doubt. Unlike most places, instead of snow, we get rain. Lighting and thunder. And green. Flowers bursting into life. The bell rings, I pretend not to notice as the figure shakes off his umbrella and hangs it up. I pull my cloak tighter, hood lower as I hear his footsteps approaching. He’s a lightweight. Well. Not entirely. His footsteps are heavy so I can tell he’s a man. But light. He’s not buff. I try not to notice as he sits down on the stool beside me. He chuckles. A warm, velvety voice. Sabbathian. I sigh. The Serpentine demon orders a pie. Odd. He never struck me as a Glutton. More of the Prideful kind.

“And I didn’t take you for a moping kind.” He chuckles, eyeing me. I shift slightly and smile, turning my head to see him. His green scales glisten in the light of the open fire. His reptilian eyes fixed on my hunched form. I relax a little. No point acting like he doesn’t know my mind. He’s one of my story characters after all. And a demon to boot. He was probably reading my soul like a book. I chew the inside of my cheek. Trying to steady my rising anxiety again. Starting to rock back and forth once more. His delicate hand touches my back, I try not to stiffen. “Oh hush. Your acting like I’m offering you a deal you can’t refuse.” His smiles and strokes up and down my back. I sigh. “What do you want?” I asked, a toothy smile spreading over my face before fading. “I dunno. You called me, love. What do you want?” he counters. Cleverly. My cheeks flush. That’s the thing, isn’t it. I should know. And I shouldn’t be conjuring up my own story characters just because I can’t express myself verbally about these things. Only through the stories. I want to lean on him, because I know he wouldn’t shove me away. “Someone.” I answer. Breathing deeply. Yawning again. Letting the hood fall back, revealing my face and hair, I reach up, scratching my cheek a bit, relieving a itch. “Someone for what?” he blinks, smile growing. Despite the gentleness in his features, his smile equally so, his eyes caring even as the second reptilian eyelid close sideways under his normal ones. His tone reveals all. He’s not acting. Not playing the smooth gentleman like he would on a heist or in business. He’s gonna rip me apart with his words and put me together again. Truly a demon. Despite the Gentlemanly Gangster persona he portrays. I don’t answer him, so he speaks again. “Someone to.. talk with? Or someone to indulge you?” He stretches the word. I swallow. “I hate myself...” I whisper. “aah~. This is about that. Yes?” his smile shows his sharp teeth. A little sinister. I feel one of my eyes wetten. Just a little. Not enough to be noticeable. I take a breath. “I hate myself. It hurts. Everything hurts. My chest hurts, my life hurts. And I want it to stop.” His claws gently run along my skin, stroking my hair, I shiver. I avoid his eyes. Putting on a resting bitch face. “Now don’t give me that.” He tuts almost patronizingly, taking my chin and making me look at him, talons pinching my cheeks. I wince and shove his hand off. “Fuck off.” The amused kind expression drains off his face. He looks like he does right before he shoot someone in the head.

“If you wanted a backhand for that it’d be Ridwan hear. Not me.” He says, I can’t help but shrink a bit. “Well we both know your not real. None of you are. You do what I want you to do.” I shoot back. He giggles, the friendliness returning. “Exactly. So shut your mouth.” He says, too sweetly. The waitress comes and puts the pie down in front of Sabbathian before walking away. It’s bigger than your average meat pie. The Last Drop is known for big pies. And the butt of the joke is. They’re meant for one person. The demon slides the bowel over infront of me. “I’m meant to be watching my weight.” I say. He shrugs. “You need to sober up.” And hands me a fork. I sigh. “You’ve been more hungry than usual lately havn’t you.” He says, blinking his slow reptilian eyes. I shrug. “It’s odd. I don’t normally get hungry. Or tummy grumbles.” “That’s good. Means your not eating between meals.” “But then it’s like… it’s not enough, I get so hungry during the night I have to get up and grab something cause my stomach is hurting like it wants to throw up.” “Self-discipline honey.” I blush again. Beginning to eat the imaginary pie. Feelings of negativity flowing back in. “Aye. Stop that.” He flicks my head. “I’m not doing nothing!” I exclaim in a whining voice. “Your overthinking again.” “No I’m not.” “Don’t lie. I’m in your head darling.” “Sonovabitch..” I grumble through a mouthful of meat. “No I think that’s Thomas.” He smiles toothily again, propping his chin on his hand. I smile a little and give a short chuckle. I yawn, feelings of tiredness once more going through me.

I almost jump in surprise when his long coat is laid over me. I blink, surprised. “Sabbathian?” He looks different without his coat. Wearing a long-sleaved button up shirt. A blue buttoned up vest and a blue tucked in tie. He encourages me to put on the coat. I begin to button it up. “It’s cold outside. And raining.” He says. And cups my cheek, I lean into his hand, closing my eyes. “Come on.” He says softly and offers his arm, I take it as he leaves a tip for the waitress and walks me to the door, picking up his umbrella he put sit up, sheltering both of us as we step outside, into the rain. “Lets go home.” He says.

[jakewriteshere-blog]

Terminal

Terminal

 Walking into the Franklin airport felt like walking into a prison cell. My trip hadn’t gone as planned, and now all I wanted to do was escape. I was leaving completely empty handed. Worse, I had less than what I brought with me. When I arrived, I had hope, and now I had nothing but a cold, powerless need to get back home and sleep for as long as I could.

I could tell it was a small airport before I walked in, but once inside, the grey building pummeled me with cramped inadequacy. It reminded me more of a dusty photo of a post office and I was having trouble believing planes flew from this place. The walls were pulped, yellowed newspaper. The carpet a miasma of dark, unknowable patches rolling between stains, decades of wear, and layers of dirt. The ceiling was too low for comfort, and gave off just enough pallid waiting room light to showcase the front desk. Confusion crept into me as I wondered how I didn’t notice any of this when I got here two days ago. But I decided that must mean my mood was to blame. It was just an old airport.

I got my boarding pass using the fewest words possible, and moved through the lonely security checkpoint like a ghost. Maybe I was too out of it to register the inconvenience, or maybe they saw my slack, gritty face and decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. I can’t remember exactly. I do remember walking down a gloomy hallway to one of only two gates, and slumping myself onto the cushion of a black chair. I sighed through every hole in my head, and all the breath I’d been holding for two days poured out of me until my bones and muscles were nothing but old Chinese leftovers. I waited.

 The first sign I had that something was wrong was the clock on the empty slate wall on the north side of the gate. The row of chairs I was sitting in faced the blank wall from twenty feet away. As I sat, I was gazing to my left out the window, watching for my plane to show up. But all I could see was a watery blur of rain, fog, tarmac, and black trees in the distance. After a few long minutes of this I glanced up to the analog clock on the wall, which read 5:00. I was too early, but I had nothing left in Franklin, so waiting here all night seemed like the only option. But as I stared at the clock, I noticed that the minute hand wasn’t moving. I looked around me. There was no one at the boarding counter, and none of the other passengers had come as early as I did. I heard what I thought was a vacuum in the distance, but couldn’t see anyone. I felt alone enough to stand up, walk to the wall, and get a better look at the clock.

It wasn’t my imagination or impatience. This thing wasn’t a watched pot. I could see the red second hand tick steadily around the face. I counted. It ticked. And after what I was sure was sixty ticks, it made a circle around the face. But the minute hand hadn’t budged from its place between the twelve’s one and two. I rubbed my eyes hard with both hands, holding my breath, until colors swam behind the lids, the way I do when I’m exhausted. When I opened them again and vision made its way back, I took my phone from my pocket, pressing the side button to turn on its screen. Nothing. It was dead.

 I sat back down. My flight didn’t leave for another two hours, so I had a long wait ahead of me, and it would feel that much longer without at least the incremental reward of seeing the minutes fall away. I looked to my right, to see another blank stone wall. But it wasn’t blank exactly. In middle of the wall, about three feet up from the carpet, was a crime scene of three layers.

The top layer was a wide “X” made of yellow caution tape. Underneath that was a black stain, dried now, and I could only guess it was tar. The deepest layer was a cracked puncture into the wall itself. I thought maybe some large equipment crashed and left a stain of whatever it was handling. God, this place was a shit hole.

I wasn’t hungry, and the smell of the place – like ash trays and pigeon feathers – wasn’t changing that. But I was bored, and I thought I could wander to the little shop between gates to find some trail mix. I was acutely aware that this failed trip had cost me the last of my savings, but when you had almost nothing left to lose, that last little scrap just got in the way. Maybe I’d see another clock on the way. As I walked back down the dimly lit hallway to shop, I could hear the vacuum sound getting louder.

The walk down there felt longer now, so I must have been getting restless. I reached the end, and the vacuum that I still didn’t see anywhere was so loud at that point that I couldn’t hear myself think. It wasn’t moving or oscillating; just an abrasive, steady flat line. The shop clerk was a short, round woman with a long black braid who didn’t look up from a magazine when I approached with a dust-covered bag of raisins and peanuts. The vacuum felt like it was riding behind my eyes now, and I couldn’t hear what she said. But I paid, I think, and bolted away from the sound. The third trip down that hallway was the longest yet. The hairs on my neck were yelling that the vacuum was following me, but the sound was becoming blessedly quieter again. When I felt ready, I looked back, and saw nothing. I forgot to look for a working clock.

 There was another passenger waiting at my gate when I got back, and I was embarrassed about how relieved I felt to be alone with another stranger. He was a very old white man wearing a blue parka and a black baseball cap. His head was down and I suspected he was napping with the ease that can only come after so many decades. I took my same seat in front of the clock, and opened the bag of nuts. They smelled and tasted like stale air, so I set them down on the seat to my right. I sighed again, and closed my eyes dejectedly. I wouldn’t say that I nodded off, but I was carried away on an unpleasant train of thought that held my attention for what seemed like several minutes.

 “Can I have some?” The voice was mild and female, and in normal circumstances my heart wouldn’t’ve had any reason to clench itself into a fistful of needles. I just wasn’t expecting it. I opened my eyes hoping my half-asleep panic hadn’t been noticeable. She had tan skin caked with make-up, her bony face framed by curly brown hair. She was probably average looking, but she wore a pair of those big black glasses they make you wear after eye surgery, and they covered too much to be able to tell. I think I was still dazed and groggy, because she smiled and pointed at the bag of nuts to remind me of what was happening.

“Sorry, of course.” I tried to sound natural, and handed her the bag. I noticed then that she was wearing a white collared shirt and navy blue vest. Her gold name tag said “Heather”, and I hoped her arrival meant that I’d killed more time than I thought, and the plane would be here soon.

“Can you tell me what time it is?”

           She was chewing so she didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t remember her actually taking out and eating any peanuts. She just stared down at me, smiling and chewing, until I got so uncomfortable I had to turn and glance out the window. Finally, she swallowed so loud that I looked back. “Sorry. No watch”. She set the bag back on the seat, and walked very slowly over to her podium near the exit door. Heather’s unsteady march must have been due to her impaired vision, but it made me shiver.

 I stood and walked over to the window. It was darker now at least, so I felt a little better. A little closer. All I could see now was a black cascade, with glittering orange lights drowning on the runway. And then something occurred to me, and I knew how paranoid it sounded but I couldn’t make it go away.

I hadn’t seen anyone’s eyes since I walked into this airport.  

           The man at the ticket counter had thick black eye brows, and he kept his attention aimed down at the tiny computer screen, never looking up from the green glow. The shop clerk had her face buried in her magazine, eyes hidden behind blue shadowed lids. I looked back out at the old passenger, and his face was still hidden underneath the brim of his cap. And Heather had those black glasses. I understood this was a dumb coincidence, a result of the quiet, casual atmosphere of a rainy night in the middle of nowhere. But I was too exhausted to listen to that. My forehead sunk onto the cold glass, and I pleaded silently with the rain to wash my plane to shore. “Please”, I thought. “I hate it here. Let me leave.”  

            And then I heard the vacuum coming.

I walked back along the row of seats and peered down the hallway. There was no one coming. But it was getting louder. I glanced to the man in the blue parka, and he was still somehow dozing, despite that tearing drone. I considered, in my frantic pawing for an explanation, that a jet was passing over the building. I was sure it was in here with me though. It sounded so close. If it was a jet engine, then it wasn’t above me. It was all around me. Blue Parka must be dead. I glanced to Heather and she was staring at me from her podium, teeth bared. I blinked and convinced myself weakly that it was a smile.  But I couldn’t fight this panic. The rain. The sleepy, dead company. Those snarling teeth. The noise. I thought I could hear the red second hand of the broken clock behind me tick away in laughter that pierced even the rushing torrential vacuum.

            All at once, the room fell silent, Heather dropped her vicious expression, and reached for something under the podium. She held it to her mouth, and without seeing her lips move, I heard her voice in my head. “Flight 111 will be arriving shortly at Gate Two.” And then, “Can I have some?” She put the little microphone back, but I thought I could still hear her, chewing stale peanuts. It could have been the rain. Still breathing heavy, I shuffled to the window, and almost wept when I saw the little white lights in the distance. My approaching escape. After an eternity they began to descend.

           I turned back to the room with watery eyes and a stronger heart. Nothing here could hurt me anymore. The clock still said 5:00, but it was time to leave. The black, sticky fracture in the wall was wet and dripping now from behind the yellow tape, but I didn’t care, because I was getting out. I walked confidently through the rows of seats. Blue Parka had risen miraculously, and was already heading out the door. I took my boarding pass from my jacket pocket, and offered it shakily but defiantly to Heather. She drew an “X” with yellow highlighter, and handed it back. I snatched it, carefully avoiding contact with her skin, threw open the door, and strode into the rain.

           The plane was easily the smallest I’d ever flown on. There was no flight attendant, and nineteen empty seats. Blue Parka had taken the very last seat on the right, and was once again sleeping with his head hanging down. I took a seat on the left in the third row. I sighed again, so content and beaten at the same time that I almost blacked out. The boarding ramp raised itself and sealed shut. The plane lurched forward, engines buzzing. We rose. And as the nose climbed up, and the storm shook me back and forth, I began to relax an inch at a time. Wherever I had been, it was over. The problem was I had never been good at sales, even though it was the only job I'd ever had. I couldn't sell used cars, as I'd learned in my twenties. I couldn't sell vitamins, as I'd learned in my thirties. I couldn't sell a glass of water to the purchasing manager of Franklin Steel Works if he'd been on fire. And I wasn't selling myself on the idea that everything would be ok when I landed. Nothing would be ok. I blew my last shot. My last dollar. As soon as my phone was charged, the collectors and the landlord would continue to call. Until they cut off my service. There was a comical stack of bills and notices piled on the kitchen counter. If my key still worked. And deep down I knew that I didn't have enough blood to pay the rent.

I'd been happy to leave Franklin, but I didn't want to land. And those were my only choices.

I shut my eyes tight.

            When I woke up, I was surprised to find we were already landing. The flight was almost three hours, and it must have been the longest, deepest sleep I’d ever had sitting up. The plane touched down, and I saw out the tiny round window beside me that it was raining at home too. It made the whole trip seem like just a bad dream. The cabin door was shut, and the ramp lowered to let me off. Blue Parka was still napping, but I left his wake up call to the pilots. I was leaving now. I raised my jacket over my head to shield myself from the rain and ran inside.

            Inside.

Inside this airport, my airport, was a room just like the one I’d left. Rows of black seats to my left. An empty podium to my right. My chest was pounding, and I felt blood and air play tug-of-war in my neck. I ran past the chairs to the far wall. Behind an “X” made of yellow tape, was a black stain and a shattered crack in the slate. The clock on the adjoining wall said it was 5:00. The second hand wasn’t even bothering to tick now. I spun around and saw my bag of trail mix sitting on the seat where Heather left it. It was empty now.

           The door to the tarmac opened and Blue Parka walked in. He ambled over to the seat he was resting in before, and sat back down. I had do something. I had to break this. To wake up. To get out. But I didn’t know how. I took a step toward the old man, thinking he might know something. Maybe the weather forced the flight to turn around. Maybe he’d spoken to the pilot before he got off. But halfway to his seat, I heard the vacuum coming. After a few more paces, it was loud enough that I’d have to shout now. “Hey!” I called. “Excuse me!” He gave no response, just a steady rise and fall of his blue parka, chin resting on his chest. I tried to call again but the roar was so pervasive I couldn’t hear myself. It stopped suddenly when the door opened again, and “Heather” walked in, taking up her post at the podium. She wasn’t wet.

           I hated being within arm’s reach of her. But I had to do something, so I trudged what was the longest, hardest ten feet I’ve ever faced to stand in front of her, and I asked, “Where are we?”

           “Franklin”, she replied, smiling from below her pitch black glasses.

           “Why did we come back?” My voice cracked a little, and I knew she noticed, because her ears pricked up.

           “I’m sorry, sir. We apologize for the inconvenience. There will be a slight delay due to the weather. Flight 111 will be departing shortly, I promise.”

           “You’re sure? It will actually depart this time? We won’t just keep going in circles?” I didn’t crack that time, thank the angels.

           “Yes sir, very soon now.”

            I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I went to sit in my seat in front of the clock, and wait. I couldn’t get my head around any of this, so I just clung to my desperate need to leave, and hoped that horrible thing in the black glasses wasn’t lying to me. I was about to get on Flight 111 for the second time, and I was also very close to going crazy. Some strange impulse took me, and reached into a pocket for a pen. I thought, just to be safe, I’d put a mark on my hand. If this happened again, if they landed me in Franklin, in hell, again, I’d put another mark on my hand. I had to have something to mark the passage of time. I uncapped the pen and raised the back of my left hand.

           There was a row of dashes in blue ink running from my middle knuckle to my watch. Eight of them.

The pen fell. I scrambled into my other pocket for my boarding pass. It was covered in yellow “X” marks, red circles, and green checks. I couldn’t even make out the words anymore. I shut my eyes and pushed my palms into the sockets until I could hear soft squishing, trying to think, to remember. I tried to think about how long I’d been in Franklin. What day it was. But I was so tired. I needed to sleep so badly.

           “Flight 111 now boarding at Gate Two” I heard Heather say into the microphone. I showed her my blotched, unreadable ticket, and felt warm tears running down my cheeks. But I wasn’t crying. I had a leak, and I was taking on water. She held it, cocked her head at an angle, and stood there staring at me.

           “How many,” I choked, and pressed on. “How many times have I boarded this plane?” It was an insane question.

           “Not to worry sir. There’s no more delay. The weather is clear for take-off now.” But that wasn’t true. I could hear the rain trying to bury us.

           “Where?” I couldn’t control my volume, and I knew this sort of thing got you placed on the no-fly list, but it had been a long trip, and I wanted it to end. “Tell me where this fucking flight is taking me!”

           “Flight 111 will land in Franklin at 10:00 PM eastern standard time, sir.” She wasn’t smiling now but I was sure she was enjoying this.

           “Show me your eyes!” I grabbed wildly at her glasses and knocked them off. We were both caught off guard by it, and I stepped back slowly, trying to blink my disbelief away. Heather bent down to pick them up. As soon as she put them back on, I’d forgotten what she looked like. I kept backing away though, knowing only that I was terrified. I knew that I wasn’t safe in here, and that I’d never be safe again. I couldn’t remember what exactly I had seen on Heather’s face behind those glasses.

But I knew that they weren’t eyes.

“Please. Please just let me leave here”.

           She pointed behind me. I turned toward the far wall, and the yellow “X” was gone. I walked over to it. Where the tape and stain and crack had been, there was only a faded white spot on the wall about waist high, as if something had been hanging there for years and then disappeared. I knelt down.

           “You made such a mess.” Heather spoke into the microphone. “They brought in an industrial carpet cleaner the size of a riding lawnmower. It took days to get the stain out.” My cheeks were dry now, because I was empty. “You can’t leave on the plane.” I felt her hot breath on my neck and heard her crunching in my ear. But her voice still came from over the speaker. “If you want out, you have to leave the same way you came.”

           My grief settled in my shoulders. My heart spasmed and my lungs heaved under a mountain of bills I wouldn’t pay, phone calls I’d never return, days I’d never live. Inside my head was a key. Behind the wall was door. And I had to unlock it. There was another exit. I took all the pressure, all the need, and drove my head into the wall as hard as I could. I heard something break, but I couldn’t quite tell which one cracked first. I didn’t care. I crashed my head into the wall again and again. I felt blood running hot and free down my face. Finally. 

I found a way out. 

[thebleuroseproject]

Homestuck Fantroll: Haozni Quiriz

Name: Haozni Quiriz

No name significance that I can remember - I’m sure there might have been or maybe I just liked how it sounded

Nicknames: ‘Sugar Glow’, ‘Baubles’ - and many other stupid ones that she hates from Sugrav.

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Female

Sex: Female

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Age: 7.38 sweeps /16 Earth Years

Class/Status: Purple Blood

Physical Description:

Haozni is not atypical of a purple blood troll in appearance, being tall, lanky and muscular - especially around the legs which spend most of their time throwing out some sweet moves. Her badly trimmed hedge of hair is tangled from frequent movement,yet her horns elegantly curl out of the unruly black mess, ending in ridiculously jingly purple baubles tied to their ends.

Despite looking like she was stretched out on a rack, Haozni manages to have areas of softness over the muscularity, mostly due to her sugary diet. The only proper food she gets is from Sugrav, who will bring a casserole or another homely dish - it’s honestly a wonder why she isn’t gaunt and waif-like, or at least mutated a little from all the chemicals she most likely consumes. She’s too lazy to make anything healthy for herself.

Her arms are littered with chemical burns, with a few on her legs. Surprisingly, the rest of her remains relatively unscathed from her experiments. There are a few bumps and bruises from her dancing as well as from the occasional fight- but with age comes a more robust build...and more skill in dancing.

No matter how cold it gets, Haozni will always dress like the environment is a little too warm for her. Alternian nights are not unpleasant per se , but they do not warrant the constant wearing of black shorts and neon vests that seem to be the only thing Haozni wears. In fact, the only long sleeved thing she owns is her lab coat - and even those sleeves are usually rolled up to the elbow while Haozni feverishly works on a new fish, goggles glued to her face at all times, even in slumber. If you look closely, there is sometimes a little sopor slime crusted on the edges.

(Art by Shikubii)

Zodiac Sign: Caprius, Sign of the Climber

Ancestor: THE MAVERICK

Trollian Tag: chemicalCarrasius

Links to her chemistry hobby, combined with the latin name for clownfish

Quirk

‘E,e’ replaced with: -

‘I,i,L,l’ replaced with: |

All to represent her glow sticks

Lusus: Angler/clownfish hybrid. Named Lophius (Lophi for short)

Morality: Doesn’t make a habit of slaughtering lowbloods, but does live and largely embraces the culture of Alternia - so...

Personality

Strengths/Weaknesses:

Strengths: Focused, Creative, Energetic

Haozni is an energetic soul, always living her life to the fullest and trying to dance to a new song everyday. She’s the person to go to for Alternian dance music, and is always on top of new releases, finding the sick beats before they become cool. Not that she shares this knowledge with anyone, she’s too ‘busy’ to run a blog, and any filmed footage of her endeavours comes from Sugrav. Haozni wouldn’t get her kicks from running a hipster blog anyway, she’s far too focused on DOING the actual activity, carrying out as many of her new dance ideas as possible.

Her energy can be infectious, but this is not purposeful - seeing someone so overjoyed and filled to the brim with sugar often puts a smile on anyone's face. They often don’t know the joy they bring to people, often too engrossed in their own little world. Sometimes they reach out to grab people, literally or metaphorically, and whisk them into this inner world, but they never last for long. Haozni barely understands the concept of a good rest and unfortunately, other trolls do.

Weaknesses: Naive, Aimless, Neglectful

Haozni has next to no concept of self care, and it shows in her unruly, tangled hair as well as her often very messy and unkempt clothes covered in chemicals and sopor slime from when she does manage to drag herself into her recuperacoon, preferring instead to mostly pass out where she stands.

She has no sense of routine, and goes with the flow to a worrying degree just because she's in their own little bubble so often. She will follow where you lead, if you can catch and hold her for long enough.

This results in Haozni often having very one sided relationships, because she likes to do her own thing. Sugrav is fine with this behaviour mostly, everything he learned to get her attention or to calm her down was gathered from much observation - most of which was done while Haozni had forgotten he was there. Luckily (?) she doesn’t have many other friends to bother with her neglectful friendship.

Another consequence of Haozni’s bubble life is that she is largely shielded from the rest of Alternia, and the politics throughout - that is, until she encountered it directly.

Skills:

Knowledge of genetic engineering in regards to fish.

Can dance extremely well.

Very, very strong

Good fishertroll

Education: No formal education

Likes / Dislikes:

There is nothing more that Haozni loves than a good dance. It was a hobby that first began out of duty but then evolved into a genuine, unfettered passion.

It’s often raining near Haozni’s hive, but on a nice clear day, if whims compel her - Haozni will go fishing to replenish her stock of fish for her neon fish light experiments. They only last for so long on the account of being horrifically experimented on and barely cared for.

She hates HAVING to do anything necessary, especially being forcefully told to do it. Often this results in nothing in the fridge, and purposeful self neglect on top of the accidental. Sugrav has learned to be very gentle when persuading her to do things, her Lusus on the other hand, has not learned the same tact.

Due to events in her past, and her desire to be left to do her own thing without interruption - Haozni is not a huge fan of the sporadic,unwelcome visits she receives. Seadwellers, and members of the Church will occasionally come by to mock or bully her for being a disgrace to her bloodline, or to mock the state of her hive. This often results in violence, and a free meal for Lophi.

Childhood/Backstory:

Haozni began life as most trolls do, as a wiggler hatched in the brooding caverns, mercifully not crushed by drones or wandering lusii. Left to spin her cocoon, emerge and complete her trials, Lophius sensed the young troll and called her to the ocean to meet her new custodian. Near this meeting place, Haozni built her hive...badly.

Despite her hive being poorly built, Haozni rarely left it. In fact, the only reason she met Sugrav was because he came down to the shore to film the ocean - and Haozni happened to be fishing at the time.Talking to someone was a rare novelty for Haozni, and so she enjoyed it when she could. Luckily for her - Sugrav found her charming, and useful for filming. With time and careful observation of her ways, they became moirails.

For a long time, Sugrav was the only other troll in Haozni’s life - which she was fine with. She only met her other friends through Sugrav’s film projects, and occasionally throws dance parties at her hive - which they have offered to help fix but Haozni refuses. She likes her space just the way it is.

Tale of the Maverick

The Maverick was a regular subjugglator, used to subdue petty riots in hive neighborhoods. She took her work seriously, although she never worked off duty, instead choosing to dance at raves amongst juggalos and lowbloods alike. Her dance moves were legendary, her use of the glowsticks unparalleled.

Her weapon, in fact, was a modified glowstick, but quarterstaff size, and it was known as The Piscatoria. Spiked on either end, surrounded with a claw, attached to a mechanism to shoot out and reel enemies into. The Maverick was known to be powerful enough to lift enemies on the end of her line and flail them into things, eventually bludgeoning them to death if she didn't think the spike would be enough or if she didn’t want them too close to her

She was seen as kind, (for a highblood) and was therefore ostracised from her fellow subjugglators as a result. She didn’t relish in the church activities like the rest of them, seeming to go out of duty more than love for the faith. Fortunately, she was good at what she did - and most who argued otherwise didn’t live very long.

Arguably, it came as no surprise that when she was called to the revolt caused by the Signless, she heard his teachings on the mouths of the lowbloods over time - and then joined their side. She fought with them for a better world, the symbol of the Signless around her neck, and she died publically for him - an example to other highbloods who would follow. Her body was displayed near the hive cluster she had been based at, the empty sockets of her skull witnessing the suffering of those she once protected.

Fetch Modus: DANCE

Strife Specibi: glowstickkind

God Tier: Rogue of Breath

Land: UNKNOWN

Profession: Aspiring DANCEXECUTIONER

Quadrants:

Matesprite: -

Moirail: Sugrav Optera

Auspistice: -

Kismesis: -

Other Relationships:

Location: Alternia, Oceanside

Religious Beliefs: None - outsider from caste because of it

Goals: Survive until exile,

Take Sugrav with her when she IS exiled.

Trivia:

Her quirk USED to be this:

<0> - at the beginning of sentences, it’s a candy!

Ae= #

Ee= x - it’s e because it represents her eye

Uu = =

Oo = ~

Ii= II <0> S~ ||t L~~kxd S~mxthIng lIkx thIs!

All of her fast text was meant to represent glowsticks and how she talked so fast she was barely understandable to anyone who wasn’t close to her.

She used to have a Kismesis named Heebee Juvent, owned by a ‘pooka prince’

Back before the extended Zodiac, her sign used to be something I made up randomly, while her blood colour was Grape #39005c. Her jam was that she was between purple and violet - and therefore a lot more unstable than most purple bloods which led to their caste not being able to obtain any real positions of power. I used to have her as a 'Knight of Rage' in the 'Land of Whirlpools and Candy' (LOWAC)

Dance Dance Revolution @ The Maverick

I suspect the Maverick is a Witch of Breath.

[shielddrake]

Rebel of Sky City Ch. 10

Chapter Ten

 Two weeks and five missed opportunities to tell Lukas the truth later, Jesse found herself escaping from the palace on a rather gloomy day. Sky City was normally sunny, even on the colder autumn or winter times, but today dark, grim clouds covered the sun, obscuring much of the light of day. Jesse could have sworn she felt a few tiny drops of rain on her cheeks once she got past the barracks and arrived at the back alley away from the rest of town.

 Haven’t had rain in a while, she thought as she weaved through the alleys to the town square. Just in time for the Fall Moon Faire.

 Unlike the Spring Festival, the Fall Moon Faire took place at night, as a celebration for a successful summer and to prepare for the coming of winter. There was more feasting than festivities and games, but beyond that Jesse actually knew very little about it. It was no surprise that Isa didn’t allow her to partake in that celebration either, so she always slept through it.

 It should be easier to sneak out at night, if Mother thinks I’m already asleep. I’d be able to spend time at the faire with Lukas.

 The rain started to pour a bit harder, and Jesse took shelter underneath an awning to stay as dry as she could. She shook her head, causing her damp hair to flail droplets around. Glancing up and down the alley, she could see that she was alone, meaning no one saw that undignified action.

 Of course she didn’t really care. Out here, she was just Jesse, citizen of Sky City and ordinary person. She didn’t have to display certain manners or use certain language. She could be as relaxed and casual as she wanted. Best of all, no one went around calling her “Young Miss.”

 When I’m leader, people are going to just call me Jesse, she decided, nodding to herself. Founder, Captain, Young Miss…All these stupid titles. Who needs them?

She looked down the alley towards her destination. She was supposed to meet Lukas at the inn, as they decided to always do whenever she was able to make it out. Lukas was usually there, either as the innkeeper’s son or in Build Club, unless he was hanging out with Petra. She wasn’t around as often since she had shifts in the Guard to do, and when she was off duty she was usually either in Build Club or hanging out with Axel. Jesse had yet to see Axel outside of her “Founder’s daughter” persona.

 Better just run for it, she thought with a mental sigh, gearing herself up for a sprint. I hate getting wet.

 “Fancy meeting you here, Jesse.”

She jumped out of her stance and turned around. Aiden learned against the wall, barely underneath the awning so he wouldn’t get wet. He stood with his thumbs in his pockets, giving her a small grin. Jesse let out a sigh.

 “Oh, Aiden, you scared me,” she said, pulling her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

 “Maybe you were distracted by the rain.” He flipped his brown hair out of his eyes and ran a hand down his vest.

 “A little.” Jesse chuckled a bit. “Are you heading to Lukas’ too?”

 “I was actually hoping to run into you,” Aiden replied. “I haven’t seen you around.”

 “I’ve been at Build Club a lot,” she answered, smiling kindly at him.

“But we haven’t hung out lately, just you and me.” Aiden stepped forward, moving into her line of sight to block her view of the inn. “You wouldn’t be avoiding me, are you?”

 Jesse gulped. “No. I just…”

“What?”

 “I’ve just been busy with the others, you know?”

 “Surely you can make some time for me though?”

Oh boy, how do I get out of this one? “Um, Aiden, listen…”

 “I can guess. You don’t agree with what I think or the way I do things.” Jesse watched as he struck his hand out against the wall. “That I think the best stuff should be saved for the ones who deserve it.”

 “I just don’t think you – or anyone really – is in a position to decide who deserves what,” she answered. She did not like the way he was starting to lean into her, and she glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming out of the inn. There was no one. “It’s like what The Founder thinks, and I don’t agree with her either.”

 “It’s interesting you have that opinion.” Jesse felt the iron blocks of the building press against her back as he said this. “You’re pretty familiar with The Founder’s beliefs, aren’t you, Princess?”

 It felt as if the blood in Jesse’s veins had turned to ice, and the back of her head banged against the building behind her as she jumped. She stared at him with wide eyes as Aiden’s smirk widened.

 Oh crud. Crud, crud, crud!

“I think you deserve the best, Jesse,” he whispered, leaning ever more closely. “We both deserve the best. Let me show you.”

 “But that’s—”

She was instantly cut off as his lips pressed against hers. She tried to push him off by shoving his chest, but Aiden simply grabbed her wrist and held it against the wall.

Jesse squeezed her eyes tight and refused to open her mouth, despite Aiden biting her bottom lip to try and coax her to relax. Even her attempts to shake her head didn’t make a difference, as Aiden moved to resume the kiss. She could feel her body shaking, and not because of the cold rain.

 She let out a gasp as Aiden’s mouth was suddenly ripped away from hers, along with the rest of his body. Jesse slid down the wall of the building, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She took many deep breaths and she tried not to focus on how her voice shook as she did so.

There was a thud and a crash and a yell from Aiden. Jesse finally looked up to see Aiden holding his hands up to his left eye, which was beginning to swell up with a large bruise. Petra stood between the two of them, her back ramrod straight, the way Jesse had only seen Petra stand when she was on duty in the palace. Her right hand was fisted, with a few small flecks of blood on her knuckles.

Aiden hissed, glaring at Petra with narrowed slits for eyes. Her expression matched his.

 “I warned you.” Petra took a step forward and snapped her teeth. “I warned you. Get out of here, creep.”

 “You don’t get to tell me—”

 “I am telling you. Go.” Aiden brought himself to his feet and glared. “Are you deaf?”

Jesse heard the splashing footsteps of boots leaving the area, and she watched Aiden’s back as he sprinted out of sight. Petra immediately turned and bent down to her. Jesse’s breathing was fast and shallow, and she gulped in an attempt to moisten her mouth.

 “Jesse.” Petra put her hands on Jesse’s shoulders and gently squeezed them. “Jesse, can you hear me?”

 Petra squeaked a tiny bit (though she would later deny this) when Jesse leapt into her chest, throwing arms around Petra and hugging her tightly. Petra’s eyes widened and she looked around. Once she was sure no one had seen them, she slowly lowered her arms around Jesse, returning the hug and patting her on the back, albeit a tad awkwardly.

 Jesse couldn’t stop shaking, and she stammered as she tried to voice anything at all. “I couldn’t…why…”

 “It’s okay, Jesse.” Petra looked towards Milo’s Inn, debating her next move. “Build Club’s going to be packed. We need someplace quieter.”

Jesse’s body continued to tremble, but Petra slowly lifted her to her feet, not releasing her hold. Jesse must have felt her friend pull away a little, because she yelped and pulled her closer, causing Petra to let out a gasp of air from the force.

 “I’m noting going to let anything happen to you. I promise,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Aiden’s gone, and I’m going to get you somewhere safe, okay?”

 Jesse could only nod in response, and this seemed to pacify her enough for her to loosen her grip. She took anther shaky breath.

 “Petra, Aiden, he, he knows,” she stuttered. “About my…my secret…”

She heard Petra curse under her breath, her bright brown eyes showed she understood her friend’s concern, and she nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

 Petra led Jesse away from the inn, taking a detour down one of the smaller alleys that led to the eastern side of the city, away from the town square. It was a smaller but nicer part of town, in an area that Jesse had not yet explored. There were more flowers and banners in this area, although many of the plants were weighted down with the raindrops falling from the sky.

Petra led her to a small apartment building, opening a door that led to a hallway. Inside were several more doors, each with a corresponding number. Petra dragged Jesse to the one labeled five and she knocked. Jesse was still trembling.

“This is Olivia’s place,” Petra explained. “It’ll be quiet and safe here.”

 “…Okay.”

 It wasn’t a moment later that the door was opened and Olivia appeared. She only had to take one glance at Jesse before opening the door completely and ushering them in. The goggle-wearing girl led them to her couch where she placed Jesse down.

 Petra let out a relieved sigh. “I was worried you might be at Build Club.”

 Olivia shrugged. “If I was, you know where I keep my spare key. What happened?”

Jesse gulped and closed her eyes, her feet tapping the floor from her quivering. “I was…it…he…”

 “Aiden happened,” Petra answered for her, snarling with bared teeth. “Little creep forced himself on her.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide and she blinked. “No way!”

 “Yes way.”

“Are you all right?” Olivia directed the question to Jesse this time. She sat on the couch next to her and wrapped her arms around her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

 “No, but…” Jesse shook her head, trying to banish the memories from her eyes.

 “Oh, that little…” Olivia’s wide nose flared at the thought. “I would’ve given him one good if I’d been there!”

 “I did it for you,” Petra said. “Think he’ll have a black eye by tomorrow.”

“Good. Serves him right!”

Their friend was still quiet during their short conversation. Petra cleared her throat.

 “I’ll be right back,” she announced, heading for the door again. “I’m going to go get Lukas.”

 Jesse’s gaze snapped up to her at this. “No! You can’t tell him that—”

 “That his so-called friend just forced himself on his girlfriend? Yeah, he has to know.” Petra’s gaze softened at Jesse’s worried expression. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. Lukas’ isn’t going to blame you.”

 “Absolutely not!” Olivia agreed. Petra was out the door a second later. “You know he won’t.”

“Yeah. I just…” Jesse kept her eyes closed. “I just can’t believe that happened.”

Olivia licked her lips and stood up. “Wait here a minute.”

 Jesse did as she was instructed. As Olivia left to go into another room, Jesse tried to control her breathing. It was not exactly calming to think of Lukas seeing her like this, but at the moment Jesse wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in his warm embrace.

 She then realized what Petra had called her. Lukas’ girlfriend? I think I like that.

 Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of clanking tableware, signaling that Olivia must be in the kitchen. The sound of pouring drinks distracted her from her shaky breaths. She looked down at her hands, seeing that they were still shaking, although not as badly as they first had been. Jesse tried taking a few deep breaths to calm her quickly beating heart. For the first time, her eyes started to water, and she fisted the tears away.

 The last thing I want is for Lukas to see me crying, she thought. He’s going to think I’m such a wimp!

Jesse could feel her pulse slow as Olivia returned to the couch and placed a mug of steaming brown liquid in front of her. Olivia sat on the floor across from the coffee table, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her own drink. Jesse flexed and relaxed her fingers.

 No, he won’t think that. Lukas is more sensitive than that. The thought brought a very small smile to her lips, although it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Why…can’t I stop shaking?”

 “Because you had a jerkwad harass you in the worst way possible. That’s why,” Olivia stated, as if it were obvious. “It’s okay. Anyone would have that kind of reaction.”

Jesse very carefully grabbed the mug from the table and took a small drink. The warmth of chocolate flowed over her tongue and down her throat, not so hot that it would burn her, but it did take the chill from the rain off.

“Olivia! This is hot chocolate!”

 The other girl chuckled. “I know that. I prepared it after all.”

 “This is really hard to get,” Jesse reminded her. “The Founder hardly ever lets anyone have cocoa.”

 “I know. I was saving it for a special occasion.” Olivia paused and took another sip. “Or an emergency, which this definitely qualifies as.”

Jesse gave her a grateful smile, and this time it was more sincere. “I owe you one.”

 She was thankful that Olivia didn’t try to force her to talk about what had occurred to her …was it really only fifteen minutes ago? The clock on the wall above the door seemed to think so. But Olivia was quiet, only speaking to offer Jesse a blanket or another cup of hot chocolate. Jesse knew she wanted her to talk about what happened, but also didn’t want to push her more than she was comfortable. Olivia clearly knew when silence was the better companion.

That silence was broken when Lukas came barreling into the small apartment, slamming the door against the opposite wall. He was panting, showing that he had run the whole way from his father’s inn to Olivia’s apartment. The moment he spotted Jesse sitting on the couch, he rushed and put his arms around her. Jesse happily leaned into the grasp.

 “Petra told me what happened,” he said, running his hands over her hair. “Are you okay?”

 “I am now.” With the help of a safe spot and chocolate, Jesse was feeling much calmer. “Sorry for taking you from Build Club.”

“Forget it. You’re more important.” Lukas tightened his grip for a second before releasing her. “How can I help? What do you need? Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Is there anything any of us can do?” Olivia corrected him.

Before she could even answer, Jesse found herself being hugged by Olivia from the other side, while Lukas remained at her front. Petra wedged herself between the coffee table and the couch so she could envelope all three of them in a huge. With the widest arm span of the group, she was able to pull this off.

 “Don’t get used to this,” she whispered. “I’m not doing this hugging stuff all the time.”

 Jesse shook her head as she was released, this time keeping her smile. “Thanks, guys. For just…being here. That’s more than enough.”

 “I want to say I can’t believe Aiden would do this, but I can’t. Not in good conscience.” Lukas’ face twisted into a deep scowl. “I want to go punch his lights out!”

 “Petra already beat you to it,” Jesse laughed. “And you’re not the only one. If Aiden ever tries that again, I’m going to kick him square in the—”

“I think Jesse’s feeling better,” Petra teased.

 “I’m still going to talk to him,” Lukas declared. He then turned his eyes to his best friend. “I’m sorry, Petra. You tried to warn me about Aiden and I didn’t listen. Now look what’s happened.”

“If you’re going to start blaming yourself, stop it.” Jesse pressed her face against Lukas’ shoulder. “There’s no one to blame but Aiden himself.”

 “This coming from the person who thought you would blame her for it,” Olivia mentioned.

Lukas chuckled. “Not who’s being pointlessly guilty?”

 “We could argue blame back and forth all night long—”

 Jesse was cut off when Petra sniffed loudly. “Hey, is something burning?”

 Olivia paused for a brief moment before jumping up and rushing to the kitchen. She let out a groan of clear disappointment that echoed from the stove to the living room. She brought in a smoking pot and slammed it onto the coffee table. Everyone stared at it, taking in the pungent smell of burnt chocolate.

 “Well.” Olivia paused for effect. “That worked out well, didn’t it?”

“That looks more like something other than hot chocolate, Olivia,” Petra teased. Olivia gave her a punch in the shoulder, which Petra didn’t flinch at in the slightest.

 “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” Lukas held his nose, stifling his voice. “Man, that stinks.”

 “I’m pretty sure that’s chocolate abuse,” Jesse joined in.

 “I guess I better turn myself in?” Olivia turned to Petra and held out her wrists.

Petra face palmed. “You guys are never going to stop doing that, are you?”

 The room was filled with mirth at the joke, although Petra was a little more subdued than the others. As they continued their conversation, Petra kept given Jesse very distinct looks, her eyes darting to Lukas in a not-so-subtle way. Jesse didn’t have to guess what she was trying to tell her.

I know Petra. I need to tell him. Jesse looked at Lukas with a small smile, which he returned eagerly, showing his flawless teeth. Especially if Aiden knows about it like he suggested. “Princess?” Bah.

 Jesse scooted closer to Lukas so she could snuggle into his chest and his slightly pudgy belly.

 I will tell him, but not tonight. I want to enjoy this while I can.

[abovesarah]

Because @the-wandering-grunt is a turd: 1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? Hey, did you know there's this thing called a vest? It's like a jacket without sleeves. 2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed? I don't know 🎉 3. If your significant other was into drugs, would you care? Yes. Not a fan. 4. Is your last name longer than six letters? Yeah, it's 9. 5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober? Sober. Ish. 6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up? Yes. 7. What does your last received text say? "I panicked. Not gonna lie." 8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? Lost count reeeeally quick 9. Where was your last kiss at? His bed 💁🏼 10. When is the last time you saw your sister? At least 2 weeks ago. 11. What do you drink in the morning? Caffeineeeeee 12. Where did you sleep last night? My bed. 13. Do you think relationships are hard? Sometimes, yes. 14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? Yes. 15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems? The opposite of problems, actually. 16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? Rainy 17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? No. It's Amelia, FYI. 18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants? Sweatpants. 19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now? I kinda hope so. 20. Does anyone like you? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I mean.... 21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S? Nope. 22. Is the last person you kissed gay? Nope. 23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand? Nah. I'm pretty patient. 24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo? Yes! But I'm too scared and indecisive. 25. In the past week have you cried? Yes. 26. What breed was the last dog you saw? My puppy is a miniature pinscher/pug mix 27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower? In. 28. Have you ever kissed a football player? Haha yeah. A couple. 29. Do you think you’re old? I feel old all the god damn time and I'm only 23. 30. Do you like text messaging? Yeah! 31. What type of day are you having? It's been alright. Slowly gotten better. 32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? No. 33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather? Cold 34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you? Most definitely. 35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling? A relationship with the fun of a fling. Where you're both still super flirty with each other. Does that count? 36. Are you a simple or complicated person? Complicated. 37. What song are you listening to? Nothing. 38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it? Always. 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you? Rileigh. 40. What made you start liking the person you like now? He's really sweet. He makes me feel safe, he makes me feel cared for. He's also super cute. 41. When did you last receive a text message? Like .5 secs ago. 42. What is wrong with you right now? I have a massive headache 43. How well do you know the last female you texted? Like the back of my hand. 44. Does anyone disgust you? Donald Trump hahaha but for real 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked? I'd like to think so. 46. Are you in a good mood right now? I'm okay. 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person? The teacher I'm working under all semester. 48. What color shirt are you wearing? Grey. 49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? I don't think so. 50. Anyone you’re giving up on? I'm not sure yet. 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? No. But he's married and we don't talk. We're indifferent I think. 52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t? I'm fucking hopeless. Of course I have. 53. Do you like rain? Love it. 54. Do you care if your significant other drinks? No. Well, I guess I'll say it's okay as long as their priorities are straight. 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them? No. I'm ridiculous and fall for people entirely too easily. 56. Do you like to cuddle? LOVE IT. 57. Are you shy? Very much so. 58. Do you get along with girls? Yeah. 59. Have you dated the person you texted last? No. 60. What do you carry with you at all times? Money, my phone, and some kind of gum usually. 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you? I'm a pussy when it comes to haunted shit. So probably not. 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months? Easily. 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship? Yes. 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute? I love it. 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week? YEAH 66. How old are the last three people you kissed? 24, 24, 20. 67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself? Get them done. My hands are not steady enough to make them look nice. 68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print? Leopard. 69. Do you have any stickers on your car? An obligatory ISU one, courtesy of my momma. 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne? Luke Bryan honestly. Lil Wayne is annoying as hell. 71. Blackberry, Android, or iPhone? iPhone. 72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut? It's been a while. 73. Do you like diet soda? No. 74. What color are the walls in your room? White. 75. Are you 16 or older? Yes. 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars? No. 77. Do you have a job? Yes! 78. What are your initials? SAB 79. Did you ever have braces? Nope. 80. Are you from the south? Midwest gal for life. 81. What does your last status on facebook say? Let's go Giants! ❤️💙 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed? Not very often. Only when I run into him around town. Perks of living in one spot your whole life! 83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad? Mom. Definitely. 84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics? I'm so unathletic it's not even funny. 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters? Hidden Figures. It was fucking awesome. 86. Do you smoke? When I'm drunk, occasionally. 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? Flip flops. 88. Is your phone touch screen? Yep! 89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly? Straight. 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house? Haha.... no, never 😇 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool? Any! 92. Have you ever made out in a car? Yes. 93. …Had sex in a car? Yes. 94. Are you single or in a relationship? Single 95. What were you doing last night at midnight? Sleepin. 96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks? 4th of July. 97. Do you like the camera on your phone? Sure 98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits? Yeah. 99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? No. 100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate? Lmao you mean everyone from high school? 101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? No. 102. Name your favorite Kesha song: Come On. It's my god damn JAM 103. Do you have any tan lines right now? No 104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? No.

[kaischickennugget-blog]

KAISOO - Dear lonely hearts Chapter 1 PT 1

This fanfic is based on a trailer I saw on YouTube! Plz give me some feedback, I'm really insecure about my writing and would love to improve ^^ Hope you'll enjoy!!

(This will contain ChanBaek/Kaisoo/Kaistal/HunHan/Etc)

When Kyungsoo sat that morning in the cafe waiting in line to order his daily morning latte, he couldn't ever have guessed what a turn his life was about to take.

-Welcome, the barista smiled at Kyungsoo with eyes as small as crescents . Kyungsoo gave him a little half smile back.

-Do you want the usual? The barista who clearly recognized him from all the other times he had visited the shop the past year winked playfully. His hair was bleached but you could see dark roots growing from his scalp. Kyungsoo nodded a bit hesitant and took out his card to pay. He had to admit that the man was cute.

That's probably why he got the job, he's clearly attractive.

-Okey, one latte will be ready soon. Meanwhile you can have a seat Sir.

Before Kyungsoo walked away to sit beside the window he saw the silver name tag on the baristas chest.

Byun Baekhyun huh. What a strange name.

The rain was still pouring when he got his latte served by the man, Byun Baekhyun. While sipping his coffee he took out his homework and started to look over it.

Ugh it's impossible to work so early… The brown haired male thought while checking his phone for any messages, to his disappointment, there weren’t any. Kyungsoo knew that he needed to be patient when he auditioned for the role of teenage Hwang Mingyu in the movie The Killer, he just didn’t know how irritating and frustrating it was to be patient, he had done a few minor auditions in the past, this was the biggest one by far. Dad had always been against him being an actor but mom was cheering on him saying that he could be whatever he wished for but that he still needed to have a good education if things didn't go as planned. Kyungsoo was still figuring out how the heck he would tell his dad that he auditioned for the role of a serial killer in a movie the week before. The thought of him knowing scared him a little since he didn’t ever want to be the cause of his father’s disappointment. Chanyeol, his best friend, was the first and only he had told and being the reaction king he was, he hugged Kyungsoo and spun him around yelling things like “you will become the next Leonardo Dicaprio, or should i say Kyungsardo Docaprio?” or even “my best friend will be rich and then we’re gonna live together forever and ever.” Kyungsoo got an headache just thinking about living together with Chanyeol… Nope, not gonna happen, ever.

He quickly took another sip of his latte before he continued with his work.

One hour passed since his arrival at the shop and he had had enough of studying. He quickly gathered his things and put them back into his bag before standing up preparing for his leave. Just as he were to open the door, it flew up right in his face and the familiar sound of a bell indicating that someone had entered the shop could be heard. He put his hands over his now aching nose. In front of him stood a man he had never seen before in his entire life and he had seen all of the people in the coffee shop. Maybe he just moved here?

The man had a bit darker skin than himself and dark brown hair that was dripping from the rain, the color made Kyungsoo's hair look light in competition.

-Oh my god, are you okey? I'm so sorry, I hit you while opening the door didn't I? His L-formed jawline moved up and down as he spoke. He put his hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder making sure he was okey. The man widened his eyes and tried having eye contact which Kyungsoo avoided. The now bleeding student's eyes traveld to his slightly raised and furrowed his eyebrows, showing that he was concerned. The man's cheekbones had an amazing structure which made him look twice as good. Top that off with the dark blue suit and the same colored tie he was wearing and you could've basically called him a god.

Shit he is attractive… Kyungsoo tried to regain focus and remembered that school would start in less than an hour and that he needed to get going now or else he would be late. Whispering a quick “I’m okay” he shaked of the man's hand from his shoulder leaving him in a half-shocked state while slipping past him and sprinted out of the shop still covering the hurt area. Ugh, great, now I’ll have to hide the fact that my nose is crushed. Luckily Chanyeol wasn't the smartest person on earth so he would probably not notice if Kyungsoo covered it up. Still it doesn't help the fact that it hurts like hell.

While making his way to school he slowly turned around to get a last glimpse of the man that had slammed the door in his face and caused his nosebleed a minute ago. He had taken a seat on the other side of what he had sat himself. He then pulled out a laptop out of a black briefcase that matched his outfit and started writing something

Fantastic, just my luck, first my nose and now this.

The brown haired student watched as the last bus leave him and the terminal behind. This is seriously Chanyeol’s fault. If he could’ve just done his goddamn homework in time I wouldn't have to help him and therefore miss my flipping bus. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo had know each other since third class. Their first meeting was what you could have called weird. Chanyeol, being the giant, idiotic, dork he was, wanted to befriend everyone on the first day he transferred to Kyungsoo’s school. Kyungsoo on the other hand prefered to be alone without other human beings annoying him, so when the giant approached him because Kyungsoo according to himself “didn’t have any friends and looked like a lonely puppy that needed love,” he basically gave his now best friend a death stare that the giant wouldn’t ever be able to forget and til this day he still get chills down his spine whenever he thinks of it. But Chanyeol never gave up on befriending the shorter and after several times of disturbing Kyungsoo, breaking his things by accident and following him home saying that Kyungsoo needed love and protection, both of them gradually became the good friends they were now. Not that Kyungsoo would ever admit it in front of Chanyeol’s face, but he secretly loved Chanyeol as his brother and couldn’t be happier that Chan never really gave up on trying to be his friend. Kyungsoo’s mother also adored Chanyeol and always made sure to tell him that he was like another son to her when he came over for dinner.

Without a bus he slowly started making his way back home in the good old way, by foot. I swear to god Chan will pay tomorrow. Kyungsoo swore to himself as he walked down the street. Since when was autumn this cold? He knew he should’ve listened to his mother when she told him to buy a winter jacket, yet he didn’t, he knew that he needed to save his money if he somehow got the role in the movie he is also in debt because his tuition, he would have to pay some of the founding. Shit, it's really cold. The wind made the short boy shudder. When Kyungsoo looked behind him he could see a silver Mercedes drive with full speed on the road beside him. That person must be rich… He's probably one of those really spoiled guys who got his job from his father or something. Before he knew it Kyungsoo was completely soaked with water that had splashed on him when the car drove by with full speed. He could feel the now dirty clothes stick to him like glue.

-Fuck you! He yelled at the car that was probably completely gone by now. Could this day become worse? I hate Thursdays…

He quietly opened the door while stepping into the hallway to avoid any sort of conversation regarding why he looked like a homeless man.

-Honey, you’re home?

Fuck, he was done for life.

-Uhm, yeah I’m home, Kyungsoo quickly stepped out of his wet shoes and put them in the corner of the room so no one would notice the state they were in before walking into the kitchen where his mother was cooking.

-How was your day love, why are you so late? She looked at him while cutting carrots, her eyes widened as she saw his clothes and his now purple nose.

-Oh my god, Do Kyungsoo what has happened to you? Don’t tell me you were in a fight.

Oh god she never calls me by my full name.

-No mom, it’s fine really… He started to explain about the day he had gone through and his mother looked at him with a sympathetic look before hugging him in the end.

-Oh my poor boy, today wasn’t your day.

-Except all that I’m healthy and fine, that’s the important thing right?

-Yes, by the way, she made her way to the cutting board again.

-Why did you miss the last bus ?

-Chanyeol forgot to do his homework that is due tomorrow so I stayed and helped him, the short male sighed.

-That boy will never learn, what did he do instead? Kyungsoo’s mother shaked her head as she spoke clearly not surprised.

-I think he was in the studio again. Writing some lyrics for our music project.

-Well at least he does the thing he likes. But tell him that he need to focus on education as well and not just sit in the studio all day. Oh and I baked some cookies today, give the poor boy some as well. Kyungsoo only mumbled for an answer and started walking up the stairs that lead to his room. He finally could have a shower and change the stinky clothes that could make anyone faint.

It was a new day, finally. Kyungsoo never thought that yesterday would end. He woke up around 5 pm and got dressed in his school uniform that consisted of camel-colored pants, a short sleeved white shirt with a blue vest over that had Do Kyungsoo written over his chest on the left side he also had to wear a tie that matched the color of the vest. Kyungsoo looked himself in the mirror to check on his nose but noticed that the blue color was similar to the one the man that had opened the coffee door in his face the other day was wearing. Curiosity made him once again wonder who he was. Kyungsoo was sure that he either just had moved into the neighbourhood or that he was there because of work. They lived in a small village outside the city that didn’t have anything interesting nor fun in it which made the possibility of the man visiting because a vacation minimal. Anyway, whoever he is, he should still be careful when opening the door, I could’ve gotten killed Kyungsoo thought while fixing his tie.

-Welcome, you can just have a seat I think I know what you’ll take by now, the short barista smiled just like he had the previous day before turning his back on Kyungsoo and start working on his daily latte.

-But I need to pay. The brown haired boy walked to the counter while pulling up his card but stopped midways when he was meet with a strange expression from the barista.

-Oh no, that’s already done. What?

-What? Wait did someone pay for me? He added when to the question when he saw that the man nodded.

-Yesterday a tall handsome man walked in here and asked if you’re a regular customer, the bleached haired boy tilted his head sideways with a smile on his pink small lips and Kyungsoo understood that he thought about the “handsome man from yesterday”.

-Of course, being the good barista I am I said that I couldn't give out that sort of information. He said while putting the warm latte on the counter laughing which made Kyungsoo smile.

-Thank you.

-No problem, he winked and started wiping some empty tables on the other side of the room. The brown haired boy walked over to his usual seat by the window. Unlike yesterday, the sun shone bright over the village which made the red and yellow colored leaves more visible. Kyungsoo’s thoughts started to drift away again. Who was the handsome man? Could it really be him? I mean, he was handsome and attractive, but why would he… Okey to be fair he almost broke my nose, this is the least that bastard can do.

-By the way, what’s your name? Kyungsoo turned his face to the barista interrupted him in his thoughts.

-Do Kyungsoo. Yours?

-You know, I have a nametag for a reason, and believe it or not it’s not because it’s a fashion trend or something. But I’ll save you the effort of looking, it’s Byun Baekhyun, unique right?

I know I saw your nametag yesterday for the first time in years.

-Yeah.

-Do you live nearby or something? Like not to act creepy, but you wear a school uniform and come here before the usual school hours, so I guess that this shop is close to either your school or your house since you literally come here everyday.

Kyungsoo wasn’t all about revealing where he lived to strangers since it can lead to bad things but somehow the barista who seemed to be younger than himself felt trustworthy.

-It’s actually both, I live pretty close to here and I attend Guanlin university I’m in the fourth year. Baekhyun nicked showing that he listened to what Kyungsoo said carefully.

-How about you? You don’t go to school? Baekhyun started laughing at the question which made Kyungsoo unsure if he had said something unordinary or out of place.

-What, why the laugh?

-I finished school three years ago.

Shit, Kyungsoo you screwed up, he’s older than you, you idiot. Here you were acting all grown up, thinking that he was your dongsaeng.

The brown haired apologized for his mistake while mentally punching himself in the gut

-It’s fine, not many believe that I’m even an adult yet…

Kyungsoo once again apologized and sipped on his latte then remembered that he wanted to ask Baekhyun something.

-Uhm, I don’t mind if you won’t tell me but…but was the man paying for my drink tall?

-Tall? Ehm yeah, in fact, he was huge, he told me that if you come by tomorrow he wanted to say “I’m sorry” and “thank you,” you’re lucky, I wish I had a boyfriend like that. He pouted.

-Uhn no no, I don’t know the gu… The bell that was connected to the door went of and interrupted Kyungsoo mid-sentence.

-Oh, Welcome, Baekhyun smiled twice as big as usual. He couldn't see the face of the man man walking in since there was a plant in the way but the brown haired boy guessed that the customer was “handsome”.

-Thanks, did he come by? There was something familiar with the man’s voice.

-Awe, you’re such a cute couple, I wish I had a boyfriend that worried about me like you worry about him. I also wouldn’t mind him being as handsome as you.

[attritio]

                                 . CHRIS DRAVEN .

TYPE: Drabble. LENGTH: Short-ish. TW: None. FEAT: Eric & Chris Draven.

           Guitar in permanently injured hands, Eric sat by the broken window of 1929. The cold breeze sipping through, and the scent of rain impregnating the evening. An improvisation of stringed melancholy flowed from the man’s instrument, eyes lightly closed, listening and feeling the chill nip at the exposed skin of his face, neck and hands. There was a gentleness that remained with him, despite everything that had happen. It could be heard in the sound of his guitar. Different from that of the face he showed to those vile souls he’d come back for.

          Depending on the company, or perhaps solitude (as presently), he could allow himself to simply be Eric. His former self. That young man who’d died a violent death. And in the wait for the night’s dark mantle to cover the monster the city had become, he spent his time in company of memories of Shelly, of his life. Of the remnants scattered in the apartment they once shared.

            The bird cawed from the window frame. Causing a distraction. Eric’s hands didn’t stop their synchronicity, despite his attention being suddenly brought to the crow. That small, feathery creature that sometimes seemed to be an extension of himself. Other times it seemed to channel the darkest part of him— allowing him to execute the most terrible, visceral acts.

          Eric watched it for a little longer, still embellishing the air with cohesive sound. It wasn’t until his gaze vested itself downward, and away from the black bird, that he caught sight of a particular item. A comic book. It was irreparably damaged. By time, neglect and the elements (rain, the cold, smoke exposure, dirt) slipping through the windows and doors. Yet he could nevertheless make out the illustration on its cover, its title reading SPIRIT. Eric recognized it immediately. 

            It hadn’t been his, or Shelly’s, but his brother’s.

          The dead musician’s hands stopped at the newfound memory. But it hadn’t been as old as the chapter with Mrs. McCaus, the woman who’d been the two Draven boys’ foster caretaker (a temporary mother, some would say), and the incident that had him sent to Juvenile Hall. No, this was not as old. In fact, it was as fresh as the memory of Shelly, though not as pleasant.

          He could remember arriving home, and Shelly being nervous. Quiet. Anxious. Not acting like herself. Eric had to work the confession out of her…

         Chris had been in what they reserved as their living room, at the center of the loft, feet away from where Eric now stood with his guitar. His brother had been sitting in a recline-able armchair, foot stool out, feet up. Music blaring from the couple’s stereo, he sat there reading comic books. A stack to his side, the SPIRIT in hand, the Batman and Green Hornet at wait.

          “My father?” Chris couldn’t help but snort. “Eric, I never had a father. You of all people should know that. See, a father is someone who is there for you. A father is someone who helps you with your homework, someone who plays baseball with you— who teaches you how to wear a tie. Do you know how I learned how to wear a tie, Eric? I watched someone on TV do it, that’s how. So, please, spare me the your-father sermon. It’s not something I’d identify with.”

            “Oh– so you think that justifies everything, right?” Eric snapped.

            “No… but it certainly doesn’t teach me any better, does it?”

           “Hate to break it to you, brother, but broken homes are the norm.”

           “No wonder I fit-in so well.” Chris’ gaze fell back upon the illustrations.

            “You just don’t change, do you?”

           “Yes, well, neither do you… and if we’re done here, I’ve business to attend to.”

            “I bet you do.” Eric saw his brother rise to his feet.

            “Yes, Eric. Believe it or not, I have more important things to do than to listen to your all-knowing, brotherly advise. So, if you excuse me…”

            “Where’s Shelly’s camera?”

            “Where’s— what? How am I supposed to know. Why don’t you ask her?”

            “I did. She wouldn’t tell me because you’re my brother, but I know you Chris.”

            “Not enough, apparently. If you knew me, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

          “She saw you, Chris. You thought she was asleep, and she saw you put it in your pack.”

          “Look, Eric. She’s confused. Probably jealous, man… I mean, of how close we are, you and I. You gotta understand, it’s gotta be tough. You two being engaged and all…”

          “Get out.” A decisive tone hid the injury in Eric’s voice.

          “— what? Why?”

          “Get your things, you’re leaving.”

          “Oh, so this is how…”

          “I should have known better than to let you stay here— Shelly, she cleaned after you, she cooked for you… you screwed up again, Chris. You have to go.”

           “What— what do you want? You want me to thank you? Huh? Is that what this is about? Is that what you need to hear? Okay, then. THANK YOU.”

           “No, Chris. This isn’t about her. It’s about us. We’re done. And you’re going.”

            “Fine.” 

             The younger Draven walked toward their door. Offended. Irritated. His hand held nothing but his jacket & backpack. Shelly hid in the kitchen, away from the scene. Only hearing the final door slam as Chris left the apartment. Perhaps, to Chris, Eric might have seen cold. Turning away from his only brother, the last remaining family member he had. Throwing him out suddenly. But Shelly, who knew Eric better than anyone, could see things as they were. Though her fiancee would never say it (unless she asked him to), she knew Chris’ actions, and his own, hurt him. 

               A rush of guilt sat at the pit of her stomach. Eric did not walk into the kitchen until moments after the incident. It was clear, to him at least, he wouldn’t hear from his brother again. 

             Repeated were the times where Eric asked Shelly to not feel responsible for their estrangement. It’d been a long-time coming. Chris never learned from his mistakes and Eric was exhausted from helping him out of them. In time, as he came across the comics again, he asked Shelly to throw them out. The young photographer did not do it. When Eric saw them again, he did not speak of them. They remained in the loft, lost among the couple’s belongings ever since. Something in Eric, perhaps that loyalty that held siblings together, refused to give up hope. 

                This despite never seeing Chris again. It was now, posthumously, with guitar in hand, that he wondered if he even knew his older brother was dead. Eric could guess, probably not.

[bikechatter]

Survive winter riding with these 30 pearls of wisdom

The weather outside is frightful, but with the right gear and wisdom it can be delightful. This treasure trove of winter weather riding advice was inspired by an email thread from the hardy folks of “Unpaved” — a Google Group and Ride With GPS club that share and ride adventurous routes. It was originally posted in this form by Our Mother The Mountain and has been reprinted here with their permission. (Keep in mind, this advice is mostly tailored toward for big adventure rides, as opposed to commuting a short distance to work.) ___

Winter riding in the Pacific Northwest can be a uniquely challenging affair. Whether exploring deep National Forest gravel roads, churning out paved base mileage, pounding grimy singletrack, or simply commuting — there are a few universal truths that will hopefully take a bit of the adversity out of the season. Initially compiled by Ryan Francesconi, the following list reflects the cumulative wisdom of the Unpaved community.

Don’t bother with trying to look like a Rapha model in the winter.

1. Buy the top level shit. Don’t bother with any fabric that isn’t elite 3 layer quality. The good stuff is going to outlast the crap thus paying for itself over time.

2. Showers Pass. Local and quality. But only the elite stuff. Except the rogue hoodie. That thing is great.

3. Rain pants. Don’t bother with trying to look like a Rapha model in the winter. Once it really gets wet and cold, it’s all about staving off the semi-inevitable soak-through. I have two pairs of Showers Pass pants – the more loose clubby pants and the skinny jeans style Skyline pants, which are fitted and ideal though for putting over full length bib tights.

4. Rain pants pro tip. Showers pass makes suspenders for a good reason. Those lycra tights are slippery. Hold up those pants, otherwise they tend to slip down. All their pants come with suspender velcro loops. Bonus: you are wearing suspenders!

5. Winter boots*. Shoe covers are pointless. They will keep your feet dry for maximum of two hours and any significant walking will destroy most of them. Dumb idea. I have and love a pair of the Shimano winter boots – great, but water can ingress through the top of the cuff. If wearing rain pants, I’ve had great luck tucking the bottom of the rain pant into the top Velcro strap, so it creates a waterfall effect. Also – wearing tall socks that stick above the cuff allows water to be “wicked” into the boot. Wear short socks to extend the time your feet stay dry. *45NRTH’s Japanther and the Lake MX145 have been mentioned as worthwhile options.

6. Winter boot gaiters: You have to keep water from running down your shins. That is the death of any winter boot system. Waterproof footwear will keep water IN as well as OUT. The Giro Alpenduro rain gaiters seem like a good option if you’re not using rain pants.

A few of the products recommended by the experts.

7. Waterproof socks: A possible cheaper option if you MAKE SURE that water isn’t going to run down your leg. Otherwise, you end up with a water balloon on each foot. An absolute nightmare. Many people swear by the Showers Pass waterproof socks, but they should fit tightly around your calves. On the cheap, Subway bags plus rubber bands can be a make-do solution if you’re touring and need something to work. They don’t breathe, but will keep your feet warm.

8. Thick wool socks: My preference in combo with winter boots/pants/gaiters/etc.

9. Wool base layers: Insulate fantastically when wet, wear for weeks on end. What’s not to love? They don’t have the clammy feeling of synthetics. Wool neck gaiters can also be a lifesaver.

9B. Cold-specific spandex: We assume you already know about thermal winter bibs + winter tights. Rapha and Castelli have several solid options (and both companies have local roots). Common sense stuff. Don’t wear summerweight bib shorts at the top of the Coast Range in January.

10. Rain jackets: Most people know about rain jackets already. Buy the expensive ones. Hoods are nice but helmets often slip around on them.

10B. Shorter bit on rain jackets: Focus on good trims (quality YKK zippers, cinches at the waist, hood/neck and quality closures at the wrist), good venting and good fit. You can have the most expensive GORE Pro fabric ever made, but with a crap center front zipper you’ll hate every day you spend in it.

Longer bit on rain jackets:

-Gore products are reliable not because they’re superior membranes, but because they have a strict process for approving quality of design and construction for a brand to use their label.

-New technology is focused on ultralite face fabrics achieved by a minimalist, or non-existent outer face fabric. Don’t go this route unless you clean your jacket religiously and only ride the road. The membrane will clog up with filth, fail to ever breath and break down much faster.

-I’m a firm believer in focusing on venting over “breathability”. If you reach and pass the threshold of water vapor-to-liquid sweat very quickly, breathability of the membrane basically does nothing to help your comfort. Same goes for when the face fabric wets out (the DWR stops beading water), once the face wets out, it no longer breathes. Venting is the only way to manage the inner climate once you’ve slightly overheated.

-Larger zippers and zipper pulls might be heavier and less flexible, but they’re also much easier to use with cold hands and gloves.

-Mesh pocket bags allow you to use an opened pocket to help vent.

-Avoid elastic or any sort of knit wrist cuff. The elastic will absorb water and be super slow to dry (nothing worse than sliding on a dry jacket only to have cold wet wrists that haven’t dried out yet).

In short, get something that fits, uses reputable fabrics and pay close attention to the details. Most riders don’t need something over-engineered with the tech of the future, they need safety and comfort.

11. Get a cheap puffy vest and stick it in a small dry sack. I bought an REI outlet $38 down vest for emergencies. It’s very small and packs down. Uniqlo also has a lightweight version for $39.

12. Real food. I find a mixture of dates, walnuts, salted almonds and dehydrated banana works well. Also consider pre-baked, buttered, salted whole sweet potatoes, peanut butter sandwiches, hoagies, slices of pumpkin pie, ziplocks of beef jerky and Olympia Provisions Nola chubs. Yes. I said ‘chubs’. You may notice most of these skew savory because the last thing you want to eat at saddle-hour 7 is another sickly sweet chocolatey dried fruit and oat puck.

12B. Keep ride food somewhere easy to access, e.g. a top tube pouch or handlebar bag. Futzing with jersey pockets beneath a rain jacket while you’re wearing winter gloves is an exercise in futility.

13. The Glove Dilemma. Gloves don’t stay dry. If you want to stay warm, you need some kind of mitten system, like a lobster mitt. The best gloves I’ve tried are the Pearl Izumi WxB style and the Gore Xenons. Sealskin are soso. I’ve also had pretty good luck sidestepping the cycling world altogether for lightweight ski/snowboard gloves like the POW Zero, which have been the go-to on colder, drier days.

*Also consider few pair of nitrile gloves which can keep you a little warmer under a fresh dry pair of gloves, and keep your hands clean when that untimely mechanical happens. The ziplock bag with a spare baselayer and gloves is clutch too when you’re just about soaked through. A fresh baselayer before turning for home/the car is the best feeling.

14. The Glove Dilemma part 2: Bring THREE pair of gloves on a long ride or two on a 2-4 hour ride. Swap them out when one is saturated. DeFeet ET merino as one of the layers is a no-brainer. Consider carrying backup pairs in ziploc bags so they don’t get soaked through from sweat or rain before you get a chance to wear them.

15. HI VIS EVERYTHING. Don’t get a black rain jacket!

16. REFLECTIVE EVERYTHING. Once it’s dark your hi-vis is now black. I like to put reflective tape on my commuting bikes on fenders, cranks, and rims. The motion adds a bit of attention. Also – there are multiple models of tires with reflective sidewalls.

17. Always bring lights. ALWAYS. Consider running two lights on both ends of the bike – one set up on steady (so drivers can actually gauge where you are) and one set up on a least-annoying blink mode. The blinking one should be the lower-powered one. (A 1,000 lumen light blinking at 60 Hz provides gives absolutely zero indication of proximity or speed to others around you.)

18. Take care of your rain gear. Wash it often. Wash it with those stupidly expensive NIKI WAX products.

Take care of your rain gear. Wash it often.

19. Fenders: If you aren’t riding single track you should have fenders. FENDERS. Plastic fenders suck. You want a front fender that goes to the ground almost. Most of the reason people get water in their shoes and have wet feet is because their front fender isn’t long enough. Velo Orange fenders are solid. Portland Design Works fenders are also solid. Again, local and quality. You need to have 20mm of clearance between your tire and fender. If you don’t – you will clog up the minute things get fun.

19B. Why aren’t you riding single track?

20. Have means to carry all this stuff. There are plenty of bikepacking bag options now. Bring dry sacks for things you don’t want to get wet.

21. Med kit + e-blanket. Water filter, backcountry preparedness things if you’re going there…spare derailleur hanger, tire boot, floss/thread + needle, chain tool, multi-tool, lighter, hand/foot warmers. Everyone’s got a different idea of what is essential…these are merely some suggested ideas. Oh…and this pro-tip: Backcountry fire starter: small airtight container of cottonballs dipped in petroleum jelly. Expense: 20 cents. Weight: nothing.

22. Cycling cap (I like the waterproof showers pass one). This keeps the rain spray out of your eyes. Skull cap to cover ears for emergency. Possibly consider running two helmets, summer and winter. The summer one can handle a cycling cap underneath it, or can be worn with no cap at all. The winter one is sized a bit larger, but can be run with either a standard cycling cap, a wool skull cap….or both for maximum coverage and warmth.

23. Tires: as big as possible given your bike and fenders.

24. Getting a new bike? Design it around what tires you want to run.

25. 650B? YES.

26. A winter setup is heavy. It make you strong like bull.

27. POST Ride gear: Don’t forget a dry change of clothes, towel, warm socks and that wool lumberjack beanie. Being wet and muddy, driving back home in the dark for an hour sucks. I wear insulated rubber Tretorn ankle boots for driving, pre and post ride. Are there less expensive options? Yes. But I’m fancy and like luxurious things. Consider a pack of wet wipes in your dop kit for post-ride facial mud removal.

28. Put the bike back on/in the car while you’re still covered in wet, muddy gear. Don’t be that guy that gets changed, then gets the dry, clean clothes covered in mud.

29. POST ride eats! Possibly a thermos full of something warm, maybe whiskey and egg nog, soup will do in a pinch, but anything that fills you up and makes you happy. Tailgate camp coffee can be a nice touch…but whiskey is better.

30. PEET shoe dryers are amazing. Cost pennies/year, silent, etc. Newspapers and box fans work to a degree, but these are much simpler and more effective.

Total Cost: A LOT.

Additionally, one of the biggest factors that can affect feasibility of riding this time of year is smart decision making. Expectations need to be adjusted. The reality is the days are shorter, light is limited, conditions are subject to change. Sure you can try to grind out 90 miles over a 4000 foot pass on road slicks in January, but should you? Is it worth it to push for five miles in road cleats through knee deep snow near hypothermia? Knowing when and where not to ride and recognizing the difference between smart, seasonally-appropriate route choices and abject misery is key here. Know when to pull the plug. Be smart, be safe and don’t get in over your head.

— Jonathan Maus, (503) 706-8804 – jonathan@bikeportland.org

BikePortland is supported by the community (that means you!). Please become a subscriber or make a donation today.

The post Survive winter riding with these 30 pearls of wisdom appeared first on BikePortland.org.

via bikechatter http://ift.tt/2i4LRPO