#THEY’RE SO SOFT AND PINCHY WHAT

[just-jammin]

PIGEONS

SO MUCH PIGEONS!!

[ticklishthoughts1]

Start to Finish (350 Followers Story Post)

 Cuddles are, absolutely, the best thing in existence. That’s what I’m thinking as I glance down at them, their head nuzzled against my chest. What a cutie. I run a hand softly through their hair, and brush their ears…then grin a bit. Gently, I flutter my fingers by the tops of their ears, and mutter “Tickle monster woke up!~” While using one hand to grip their waist, keeping them cuddled to me. I giggle softly as they begin to squirm around a tiny bit as I gently caress their ears, their neck, the line of their jaw….after about 5 minutes of this relaxing, melting tickling? I flip them and me, using the knowledge i have from wrestling to seamlessly switch our positions so now I’m on top of them, straddling their waist, and relishing in that adorable blush. I wiggle my fingers at them, watching their lee panic build as they watch my hands slowly lower…..

Only to lean forward, and blow a soft raspberry into their neck. The sound of surprise mixed with laughter is simply adorable! So I blow another…just one more….okay, maybe 3 more. 5 more, tops. When done, I begin whispering teases in their ear, as my hands dart up to their ribcage. I giggle softly as their laughter takes a sharp increase-weren’t expecting that, were they? I coo at them as my hands dance around their upper body-armpits, ribs, back, tummy, bellybutton, sides, hips. I hit everywhere that makes them smile, and remind them exactly how cute they are.Of course…that’s only one half of the cute little lee’s body. Luckily I’m tall, so I only have to sit up a bit for my hands to be able to reach back to their thighs, pinching around and skittering, to the back and front of their knees, to their calves and ankles and feet. I move with them as they kick around, and giggle, before letting them catch their breath…then…”Boo!~” I Pounce again, this time targeting their favorite spot-at least, what I had observed to be their favorite from watching them squirm under me. I lock eyes with them, smirk a bit wider, and mouth “ticklish?” before targeting the area a biiiiit faster. I then let them go a bit, and mutter in a deeper voice “Run” as if I was some kind of villain. Maybe I am. Omega-Ler, or something. I let them try to run away, then chase them, silently at first, but then giggling in a teasy way that I KNOW affects them when I’m close. As we scramble around, I begin describing every way I’m going to wreck them, once I catch them. Every way I’m going to make them smile and blush and snort and squeal and squirm. Eventually, I run them into a corner, and walk a bit slower, being MORE teasy as I know I’ve essentially won. I then grab their wrists in a way that doesn’t hurt them, and wrestle them to the floor playfully, laughing a bit as we tumble around together. Of course, being a varsity wrestler, I win the little tussle, and end up straddling them again, this time gently tickling their palms while holding their wrists to the ground. I do this slow, gradually speeding up…until they crack. That, dear reader, is when I go in for the kill~ I do everything I said I would during the chase, step. By. Step. Some parts I tease, some parts I go sient. Slow, fast, pinchy and squishy and pokey and wiggly and oh so very tickly, is it all.I go for the self proclaimed tickle monster bit again, this time letting out playful fake growls, and gently nibbling at them, while making my hands pinch at them like monster claws. I do “drum solos” on their ribs and tummy. At one point, I’m just making them hysterical with ghost tickles alone. After an untold amount of time, I slow to a stop, and kiss them on the forehead, slowly getting up, and getting them some water. After making sure they’re okay, I silently begin, IMO, the best part: aftercare. So I help them up, maybe PICK them up if they’re okay with that. I then, go with them over to where we began, and hug them tight, muttering how cute they are, how special and wonderful. I mean every word, and I am very glad I know them. Finally, we end as we began. Embracing, with their head on my chest. Cuddles are the best thing in existence.

[missamyrisa2]

What would you do if you had to feminize a tickle slave and who would you make him look like and what would you tickle him with

So I looooove to doll up a ticklee ~<333 There's something so tantalizingly teasy about dressing up a tough guy or girl and making them feel all silly and silky and exposed while being fully clothed. But ooh, before we even get to that fun I'm gonna tickle you to pieces ~ yes, I'm gonna tickle you right out of that outfit ~ my fingers wiggling, the knowing smirking smile across my face. "It's just a little tickle~" I coo, snatching up your sides with my squeezy hands. When you try to block, I'll be splitting the difference, poking your belly while my other hand jumps down to squeeze at your knee. Don't tumble now ~ that's just gonna make me tickle you moooore cutie pie! Oooh oooh looks like you tumbled my little tumblina~! Now it's ever so much easier to plop myself on your legs ~ we'll just tickle these toes and soles and whoops~ there go your sockies ~ ooh well, don't fret ~ your sockies will be joined by your shirt! There, look at that slip right off, it's like your shirt wanted to get away. Eeeee look out for the pinchy pixies! Squirm real good they're heading riiight for your nipplies! Pinch pinchy pooooo~! Ahhh yes, I do believe these pants are next. There, isn't that better? Slip them riiight down here and oh yes, I do believe I'm tugging these undies down next. Can't waste any time, it's already makeover o'clock!

Well would you look at that! What a cute royal area you have my little tickle doll! Oooh ooh don't fret, don't fidget now ~ yesss there you gooo. Does that feel good? Amy always makes it better. I can make you feel soooo nice with this magic finger just playing on your regal spot. And then it's...tickle time!! Naked tickles for my naked baby! Hide your shame silly tickle bug! You roll like a lil pill bug. Oooh look at that tushi! Pinchy pixies on your booty! Ahh there's those sides. Gotta massage the underarms toooo~ maybe I'll just snuggle you like this ~ did you know your nape was so ticklish? Noo? Well my lips certainly seem to tickle there~ how about a little kissy on your ears? Alright now, just cooperate with me. Nope nope nope we're rolling back this way. I have your new outfit all ready to goo~ don't try to fight it or I'll just tickle you mooore! Feisty feisty, let’s get those thighs all nice and massaged ~ let’s tickle the fight right outta you my little giggle doll. There we go ~ just relax and feel your new undies going up your legs. Umhh~ nice soft panties, yes right on your royal area. Does that feel nice? Little tickle here? Does the magic finger feel so tickly right on these wonderful cute panties? Yeah? Tickles on these little flowers, right on the frilly fringes? Tickle tickle~ 

Don’t worry your pretty head, you’ll still get plenty of panty panty tickles with this adorable floral dress. Isn’t it just so adorable? Look the flowers are hugging your sensitive body~ all that nice soft material, you feel in on your nipples and ribs? Yeah, my pretty giggle girl. Look at this, I can glide my fingers up on this fabric and it feels so amazing right? Get ready sweetness, because next we’re doing your nylons. Ohh yes, bunching them up like soooo and over the feetsie. Does it tickle already? Aww how cute! Here’s the other foot. Hold still ~ don’t try to fight it, that’s just going to make it tickle more~ Andddd up the legs we go~ itsy bitsy tickles crawling up your legs. Ooh the nylon snakes gotcha, they gotcha and they’re gonna hug your legs and thighs and hold you all nice and snug. Annnd annnd uppp ~ downnnn down then upp and there we gooo! Over the panties! Why dear, does that just tease you so bad? All this nice soft pretty material on your sweet ticklish body? Yeahhh it’s okay, let your pretty panties make you feel so good, loving your royal area. The tights will hold it all nice and in place ~ and oooh, yes. Of course I’m going to let you borrow one of my big cute belts tooo ~ we need to keep this nice dress all accessorized and held lovingly to your body. There we gooo~ I know this feels nice, you can moan, you can giggle ~ you can gigglemoan. Just let it all out sugarloaf!

Ah, ah. We aren’t done yet. Makeup time! Oh yes, we’re gonna blush these cheeks and I have the perfect fluffy blush brush. You’re already so blushy so we’ll do a light coat and you get to enjoy how lovely this supple brushy feels on your pretty face. Does that tickle? A little dusty tickle? Sorriesss I had to test it on your nose, I just had to~ and now hold still for your mascara. Why, are your eyelashes ticklish? Silly giggly girly girl ~ Don’t squirm now. I don’t wanna jab you! There we go, such lovely lashes. Does that feel interesting? How about this? Yes, your panties. You feel them through the dress and nylons don’t you? Magic finger tickle tickle on your regal area. And then up to your belly! Awww, coochie coo my beautiful butterfly. You’re so cute like this! All dolled up and wiggly in your little outfit. How do your feet feel? Ooh yes, we’re gonna test those nylons now. My goodness, does it tickle more with them? I know it does ~ that’s why I’m tickling you here. And that’s why I have this little nubby bamboo brush and it’s gonna scrub scrub scrub those dainty soles. Are the soles the gateway to the soul? Isn’t laughter the voice of the soul? So if we go through the gateway, can we tickle you right out of your soul? Let’s find out~ TIckle tickle. Wiggly toes, wiggly toes~ Where are you wigglin to? Ooh no, gimmie those legs. You’re not going anywhere my giggle bug. 

We haven’t gotten to the best part! Now, it feels so lovely when I touch your ticklish parts through this outfit doesn’t it? Right on your chest, little wiggly fingers through that soft material ~ tracing your ribs through the florals, drawing lines over where the belt is hugging your natural waist ~ squeezing those hips through dress and tights. Little pinchies on your wiggly quivering thighs too~! But ahh, you haven’t gotten to feel my dear dear friend in this outfit. Ah yes, the buzzy meanie. You guessed right. This is my magic wand, and what we’re gonna do is just take her on a tour of your outfit and let all those lovely vibrations set of the materials against your skin. And we’ll just see who wins ~ Yes, buzzing on your dress, over the chest, let’s circle the nipples, give them little tweaks for good measure ~ twice for good luck~ back down, trace the belt, feel all that shakiness on your hugged waist my sweet giggler. Up and down your thighs buzzy buzzzzz and there we go, there’s those panties. Yes, we’re going to vibe you right here through the dress, the tights, your sweet lil panties, and keep the wand right here on your best spot. You can wiggle and giggle all you like, let all out. Moan it out for me cutie. I’ll just be here pinching your sides and teasing your tummy and rubbing your thighs ~ and when you ticklegasm, we’ll giggle it out all the way through and you’ll get your second makeover ~ I have a lovely little silk nightie for you and we’re gonna keep this tickle party rolling alll night ~~<3

[ultrakeystotheheartblog]

Not So Alone (Part 2) (Teen Titans x Reader)

Part 2 of 2

Request: Requested by multiple people.

“Uhm, your teen titans imagine was?? so great?? I would totally love a sequel omg (only if u want obv)”

“Omg please I just read the fic and want a sequel too so badddd you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’d be super hype to see it and read and scream because the first parts great” - @laneygthememequeen

A/N: I’m back! I’m not dead! And I am definitely going to  write an update some time soon to explain everything that’s happened, but for right now I’m just gonna go ahead and say thank you again for all the positive comments and support that the first part received. I wasn’t expecting so many people to enjoy it, so I was over the moon at the response. With that said, I hope you all enjoy this part too ♥♥♥ 

(PS: This was the imagine that got the most votes, so the final part for my Jason Todd fic will be coming next! And, uh, It’s already turning out like a novel guys, prepare yourselves).

Warning: Swearing. Little bit of angst, but mostly a whole lot of fluff.

*********************************************************************************

You can’t help but feel that something is not quite right today.

Things are quiet.

Too quiet.

There’s no bouncing music or flashing video games, no arguing, no laughing, no daily echoes of training or disastrous calamities unfolding in the kitchen. No doting, friendly teammates to regale you with their presence (as what’s been the norm for the past few weeks while you’ve begrudgingly, slowly, began to heal from your injuries). No, the Tower is practically, for lack of a better or less ironic term, dead. And has been for most of the day—a husk of boredom and loneliness and one too many pieces of cold, leftover pizza. 

Not to mention that looming cloud that’s followed over your head, a suspicious kind of quiet that’s been pressing in all around you like a swarm of invisible hands, seeping into the very foundation of the room. It’s been keeping you teetering on the edge of a pinpoint for literal hours—your fight or flight response practically grinding its teeth in preparation for an inevitable...something. And all the while you sink further into the entertainment room’s monstrous, curved couch and try to focus on ‘relaxing’.

Ha.

You’d be more relaxed if you knew where everyone disappeared to.

But alas, you do not—no matter how much the urge to snoop is (and you so want to snoop), because that’s not what friends do. At least, you think it’s not. You have to admit, it’s been a long time since you’ve considered anyone a friend, but you’re trying. Trying to let go of the past. Trying to be vulnerable. To be good. To be open. And you very much find yourself liking all the ensuing, chaotic changes in your life recently. But you’re rusty and unsure, and always, always, waiting for some other shoe to drop.

You don’t want it to.

You really don’t want it to.

But sometimes you wonder if it would give you some sort of relief from all the waiting—if that metaphorical shoe just got it over with already and put its ugly, metaphorical foot down. So you could breathe without all this pinchy, backwards kind of guilt you’ve been storing up inside for years, waiting to finally punch out into the world like a nest of angry wasps. Like you should feel bad for wanting to be a part of something....something more. 

You’ve always hated just waiting for something to happen. But here you are now; alone, completely over-thinking the meaning of life, and left to stew in a concoction of sulky feelings that leaves you nauseous in a way you’ve worked so hard to forget.

So.

With your sore legs propped up onto the coffee table for comfort, you just continue to glare at the blank TV screen and watch your faded reflection in the shine of the glass, biting bitterly into the last of the pizza crust from the plate balanced in your lap.

ZuZu (as declared by Star the morning you’d first woken up—words tripping in a rush of excitement and a stream of breathless chatter about some sort of inspiration from an earth movie—while she gently sits the little creature into your lap with a ceremonious flourish of her arms) flops onto their belly to find a more comfortable position beside you. 

Their front legs tuck underneath their bulk, long, spiked tail curling around their body in looping circles, before they come to rest their head on your hip, staring intensely at the leftover crust between your fingers.

They’re about the size of a small dog, heavy and wide, with the hybrid body structure of some sort of lizard and a...well, a bear. Their face is coated in silky auburn fur, snout ridged and twitchy, large heavy-lidded, expressive pink eyes set deep in their sockets. The majority of their torso and back legs are scaled and shiny, while three stripes of that autumn colored fur zigzag down their back, their front legs thick and capped with massive fuzzy paws and hooked dark claws. But the most distinctive features are the large, pleated creases of skin which usually lay folded back against their head and neck. 

A frill, like you remember seeing once, adorning a lizard from some travelling petting zoo. It’s supported by long spines of cartilage connected to each side of their jaw bone, and when spread to encircle the entirety of their head, is lined in pink and filled with bright orange scales.

Beast Boy called it a ‘deimatic display’ that first day, a behavior or reaction of patterns and colors used like a defensive bluff—akin to beady eyes on the back of a moth’s wings or selective changes in the body pattern of a cuttlefish—manipulated to startle, display a warning, or distract predators. But it seems ZuZu is able to use it a bit differently—a slight alien twist to the reaction, which allows them to communicate solely through a language formed by varying flashes and multitudes of color. 

You’ve all been scrambling to figure out the meanings behind each display lately, trading yes or no questions with the creature at any given point throughout the day, before documenting any noticeable details in the Tower’s staggering, inexhaustible database. 

Red, you’ve found quickly, suggests that they’re annoyed, or angry, or generally, exceedingly, unhappy about something. Yellow, on the other hand, simply implies content in the most peaceful sense. And pink? That’s become their version of taunting—something smug and annoyingly self-assured, which seems to be their more….colourful version of resting bitch face.  

You grunt at the heavy weight of ZuZu’s head as it presses more firmly against bruised muscles and skin, hidden away beneath the cozy, cotton sweatpants you’d wrestled from the bottom of your closet. It doesn’t keep you from slipping deeper though, into the clouded memories shrouding that first dreamlike morning after finally waking.

Robin—grinning, more relaxed then you’d ever seen him, and already lying back in his spot beside you on the bed—had leaned over when Star finally took a moment to find her breath, voice dipping low as he casually filled in the most obvious, glaring blanks in her story. He explained how they’d come upon ZuZu while rushing you back to the tower for medical attention—left behind by their master, defensive and shaking, and hidden away beneath the burning hot rubble from unlucky buildings crushed during the Jump City attack.

You can vaguely recall those creatures and their part in the invasion, as you hold the curious, unwavering stare of your new housemate. You pinpoint a fuzzy recollection of hundreds of similar alien hybrids, large percents of them being used as cannon fodder against the city’s responding defense—some sort of attack dogs or bloodhounds originally breed for what seemed to be an unparalleled sense of incoming danger. And a lethal aptitude for sniffing out and marking targets, even in the most extreme of circumstances. All to make the invading attack’s that much more…. precise. 

Equally as shaken and heartbroken, both Starfire and Beast Boy insisted on giving little ZuZu a home, one without the need for cold masters and needless sacrifices.

Robin admitted that it took some convincing to get him to agree, but that he caved to them rather quickly, like the truly soft-hearted dork you know he is on the inside. The one, you’ve been noticing, that is no longer carefully tempered behind masks both metaphorical and literal (like those you’d learned to cultivate for yourself, to ensure your own survival among the flocks of good and evil in this world)—all veils of enigmatic charm and cool leadership, strategy and logic.

(While for just as long, you had mused, you refined your wall of sarcasm and teasing, and strained, plastic smiles. Even as fate saw it fit to laugh and thrust you into the role of cosmic punching bag in both a figurative and literal sense).

Because Robin is never really one to deny a safe haven to someone, especially an orphan, in need.

And it’s not too hard to understand why.

It’s one quality you’ve only caught glimpses of, before the attempted invasion and one too many near-death experiences changed everything.

Your once positive opinion on lizards.

Your practical, humanly limitations regarding the ability to eat your weight in cold, cheese pizza.

Your mostly cynical take on all the possible wonders of this life.

Your team and their conduct—their outreach of friendship, their measure of trust and willing openness towards you.

Your place among them.  Your.... the need for the permanence of those masks.

All while you’ve been learning to come to terms with this warm, slowly blossoming….strange feeling of finally belonging.

ZuZu shifts to find a different angle, and then they’re sliding their head further into your lap, situating themselves just underneath your hovering hand. Your sullen gaze darts down to examine them again in the cresting evening sunlight, their lithe body bathed in an orange light that softens the harsh lines and edges of bluish-green scales, until they’re all but glittering like some magnificent, stain-glass fish below rippling water. 

Shit, they’re so wonderfully unique, maybe too much so, for a world that tears down all that’s different in the name of fear (and this you know all too well). They’re intelligent and hardheaded, and kind of an absolute dick if you’re being honest. But you can’t help but feel close to the little creature, and hope, however possibly (awfully) misguided, that it’s at least somewhat mutual. After all, for all their rough edges and guarded, worldly acceptance, they were learning to fit in here—just like you.

The flash of a long, forked tongue startles you from your thoughts, and you catch sight of it in your peripheral, snapping out towards the piece of half-eaten crust in your hand before you can even process where it’s suddenly emerged from. You jerk away clumsily on reflex, letting the crust plummet back to the plate in your lap as you lean to the side, trying to avoid the persistent little alien. You hoist the plate up and out of their reach at a safer distance—though not without a twinge of pain that bursts like fireworks in your shoulders. 

You glare down at them in admonishment.

Well then.

Earlier sentiment revoked, actually.

ZuZu narrows their intensely bright eyes right back at you, their frill rising from their neck like the hackles of an angry dog. The trim pleats of skin folded there flutter in anticipation before finally sweeping open with the rippling, fluid grace of a hand-held folding fan. The pretty scales lining the exposed frill change colour almost instantly when they hit the open air, flaring a deep red when you stick your tongue out at ZuZu in an act of childish defiance. 

Yeah, someone’s no longer a happy camper now, are they? Well, join the club, pal.

You can’t always get what you want. Because no matter what you do, life just likes to screw you in the—

It takes a total of three, distracted seconds.

The offending tongue snaps out at an impossible length to hit the surface of the plate. It’s like some cartoon frog catching a fly that’s far enough out of reach to be considered natural, the appendage wrapping around one end of the half-bitten crust, before proudly reeling it back down into a waiting mouth. Their jaw snaps shut again with an audible click of teeth, and they swallow their prize whole and much too slowly, flashing you a fanged smile that gives you the creeps.

Or you do, you find yourself bitterly amending in the wake of defeat, especially when you’re a terrifying space gremlin with freakish mouth biology. Why are you even awake again today?

You sag into the couch cushions with an unexpected wave of soul-weary tiredness, a full body and mind exhaustion creeping upon the fringes of your being, though you’d been fighting it off rather successfully for most of the month. 

You lower the empty plate to sit on the surface of the coffee table—while grumbling under your breath about the reigning injustice of such snack-stealing gremlins in your midst—and lean even more precariously forward. Much farther than you normally would consider doing without others around, but you persist in you reach, getting a good grip on the propped up crutch you’ve left leaning against the table. 

You struggle to your feet then, deciding to leave the main living room to find something more productive to do (rather than wallowing and getting your food pilfered from beneath your slowly healing, broken nose). ZuZu watches you silently from their cozy napping spot, gaze tracking you as you begin to hobble around the couch on your way from the room. You toss a half-hearted, parting wave to Starfire’s first adopted friend—a chunky, gooey, mutant moth larvae dubbed little Silkie, snoring away beneath an open side table near the couch.

It’s good going, until something unexpected flutters down from the ceiling with the grace of falling snow—just as you’re about to cross the threshold into the hallway. Your gaze follows the swirling path of the shiny, red and black length of foil as it lands near your feet. A candy wrapper.

Huh.

Strange.

You pause in your journey and peer down at it for a moment, bewildered enough to take a full step back before finally looking up to retrace its fallen path.

And okay, so in hind sight, you kind of wish you hadn’t left the couch.

A single, suspiciously green, bat drops like a stone from the ceiling once it’s seen, swooping down over your head with a panicked flutter of leathery wings. You shout and unashamedly curse like a drunken sailor, ducking in surprise to further avoid the little needle talons that brush across the top of your head. Beast Boy turns human once he clears your form and hits the floor, once again completely, frustratingly, naked when he hops up to his feet. 

He tries to quickly console you, only to jump back in order to dodge the fear-driven swing of your crutch.

“Hey! It’s just me!!” He exclaims, hands held out towards you. You sling your cast over your eyes and wonder just how bad it would be if you bleached them clean of the searing, full-frontal image that lingers just behind them.

“WEAR PANTS.” You demand in alarm.

“They’re not comfortable!” He complains. Eyes still tightly shut, you shake your head and gesture wildly at him, throwing out your plaster covered arm to wave it around in loose, frantic circles. “PANTS!” You insist in a higher voice. “Fine!”

He mutters something else, low and displeased under his breath, and then goes to dig out a familiar non-descript bag you’re used to finding at random—usually full of extra clothes and stashed around the tower, or other frequent hangout places around the city—hidden away within the grassy, potted plant next to you both. You choose to ignore the obvious sass he’s exuding in protest, cracking open an eye just a bit to make sure he’s following through. 

He smoothly tugs his purple and black uniform free from the depths of the shiny leaves, wrangling on the bottom half with a pout as quickly as he can, and before you know it, he’s already shrugging the fabric up over his narrow shoulders.

(Though to your satisfaction he’s careful of the stitches still lining his spine). You sigh in relief, “Just—oh my god, what were even you doing up there in the first place?!”

Beast Boy works his mouth in silence as though he can’t find the right words to explain at the moment, bottom canines glinting as he squints up through the fluorescent lights and tosses the empty bag to rest beside the plant. He seems to be thinking hard about his answer (you hope), his gaze dropping to you after a few seconds of awkward, disbelieving silence. He shrugs, apparently deciding it’s appropriate to simply respond with a pair of finger-guns and a strained grin. “....hanging around?”

…..

You think you’re starting to miss those dragon-tailed, sumo alien’s from space-hell.

Your shoulders slump as the pent up energy from your frustration and sudden scare seeps from your body all at once. You groan, lifting your crutch up to point at him, the tip barely brushing against his chest. “You’re dead to me.” You proclaim lightly. Beast Boy rolls his eyes, and after securing the clasp on the back of his suit with a small chuckle, reaches out to gently lower the makeshift weapon. “Oh, come on—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, moving to hobble around him and retreat to your room. You shouldn’t have gotten up today. Nope. Call it a bad feeling. Something is going on around here and you are getting the hell out while you can. He slides into your path immediately, cutting of your escape with a smooth glide across the hardwood flooring. You narrow your eyes, shuffling to move around him again. He meets you like before, lunging closer still with each attempt to counteract your movements. You huff and stare him down, feeling like a Spanish bull in the ring, ready to charge the moment you see an opening. “BB, move.” You warn lowly.  

He throws out his arms to either side of him, blocking your way when you take a threatening step forward. “Can’t do that.” He chirps, puffing out his chest to seem more confident in his current position, while beginning to look as though he’s starting to regret his life’s choices, what with the way you’re gaze is cutting into his very soul. (Positively icy. You’d practiced that, rest in peace).

But he doesn’t move.

You frown and glare at him suspiciously, forcing your heavy limbs to cooperate with you for a moment. You take a step to the right, and as expected Beast Boy mirrors your movement, but your body isn’t as fast as you remember it. And he knows it. You careen to the left to try and complete your fake-out, but Beast Boy anticipates the slow sway of your body, following the uneven momentum like a puppet on strings to block your way yet again.

 He reaches out to steady you when you wobble, legs shaking with the sudden quick strain on your knees, and you wince at the flair of pain. Crappy broken body. You shake him off angrily, more upset at yourself then at him, and strike your crutch against the floor with a wave of strength (propelled simply by the heated frustration you feel festering in your chest like icky, wriggling worms). “Beast Bo—Gar, I’m serious.” You hiss in annoyance, ignoring the ricocheting twinge of pain that shoots up into your shoulder at the action.

“Believe it or not, so am I!” He defends, hands flying to his hips.

“Debatable.” You snap back.

“Rude.”

“Twenty bucks on (Y/N).” A new, deeper voice declares with obvious amusement. You spin to face the living room again, Beast Boy peeking around you to get a better view. Cyborg and Starfire are standing before you, having appeared out of thin air and quiet as can be, the latter of the duo looking as though she could just burst with excitement. More than usual. Cyborg’s gaze cuts to you when he notices the way you’re staring at her in confusion, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently to sooth the absurd tremble of her body. 

Okay. Double suspicious. 

They’re dressed in casual clothes; Starfire in high-waisted, purple shorts and a stylish pink sweater that hangs off her shoulders, her wild red hair tied back into a ponytail and her feet bare, smile wide. Cyborg is donned in sweatpants and an old blue and yellow football jersey you think might have seen better days once, newly buffered limbs gleaming under the lights. Beast Boy pursues his lips and squints up at his friend when he catches sight of the teasing smirk Cyborg trains on him.  

“Thanks, dude.” He responds as sarcastically as he can. Starfire spins to face Cyborg with glee, hands clasped in front of her.

“Friend Victor, I too wish to attribute money to the outcome of this argument.” She reveals enthusiastically, leaving you to trade an exhausted look with Beast Boy at the spiraling situation. Cyborg’s grin grows larger, and he winks at you both before giving Starfire his undivided attention.

“Okay.” He relents, staring down at her curiously. “Bettin’ on (Y/N) then?”

Starfire pauses, nose crinkling as she considers the question. “Can I not take part of the betting for both?”

“No, Star, it doesn’t really—” Cyborg begins, sighing with reluctance when she only continues to look up at him expectantly. “You know what? Sure.” He amends with a shrug, rubbing at the back of his head. Starfire claps her hands excitedly and laughs, her feet lifting from the floor in her in a rush of elation.

“Glorious!” She exclaims. You almost miss it when Cyborg turns away from her, but you’re able to barely catch the sly way she throws a wink at you too, the quick gesture leaving you reeling in amusement.

Oh shit, what a hero.

You can definitely appreciate a good swindle win you see one. And that was great.

You slump against your crutch and chuckle tiredly, massaging your forehead with the tips of the fingers peeking stiffly from your cast, before raising your arm up to draw their attention.

“Alright, seriously, what’s going on with you guys today? Where’ve you all been? Some secret club within our secret club?” You question fervently, on a  new mission as you hobble closer towards them. “I have to admit, I’m kind of offended if that’s the case.”

“Oh, you know, out.” Cyborg says much too casually and unhelpfully for your liking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. Simultaneously, Starfire responds much too quickly.

“In my room!” She declares loudly, unable to stop herself from flinching at the sharp, wide-eyed look Cyborg cuts her. She mouths an apology at him and flashes you a sheepish smile, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.

Oh, something is definitely going on. Not on my watch, secret keepers of the crypt.

You squint at them, “Sure. I’ll believe that. But why do I suddenly have a five-foot-furry shadow? One who doesn’t seem to know the concept of the word shame?”

Beast Boy gasps as though he’s never been so insulted in his young life (okay, so you may have possibly taken it a little too far that time. But in your defense, there’s a lot of stressful things going on right now, and the bat thing may have thrown you a little too far over the edge), scurrying around you to passionately wave a random, uh, peace sign in front of your face.

Wait, what?

“Five-foot-two.” He stresses firmly, wiggling both fingers for emphasis. You lean your weight on the single crutch keeping you gloriously upright, reaching out to tug his hand down with a groan.

“So not the point, batboy.”

“Hey! Bats are cool!”

“Ha! You know what else is cool?” You question sarcastically, nestling your casted arm against your chest as you lean forward to regard him with an arched eyebrow. “Not scaring the living shit of a person who’s already legally died twice from heart failure.”

Beast Boy concedes to your logic with a grimace, no doubt fighting off a burst of vivid memory on the subject.

“Point taken.” He agrees.

Cyborg pads over to you with a muffled laugh, giving your upper back a hearty, friendly slap that propels you forward a few steps. “Aw, B.B.’s just doing his job. Lighten up, (Y/N/N).”

You stumble with a strangled sound and work to regain your balance yourself through burning muscles, gripping the handle and uprights of the crutch as tightly as you can. You always forget how strong he is. And sometimes, though not often, so does he. Cyborg winces, flexing his fingers while he graces you with an apologetic smile. You raise an eyebrow at him; eyes locked intently on his face, as though you could simply reach into his mind and know all with a simple blink, and subtly tilt your head towards Beast Boy.

"And that means I can't leave one single room?"

"It was more to keep you busy." Cyborg admits with a grin that makes you all too nervous.  

Okay, red flag. Were you sweating? You might be sweating. They weren’t the…vengeful type, right? It’s not really your fault you tend to stress eat. Though….

"What are you all planning?" You ask again, unconsciously scanning the corners of room behind them for your two missing team members. Why do you feel like you’re about to be ambushed? Starfire hops forward like she’s stepping on air, looping her arm through yours and shaking it gently as she leans into you. Then she begins to drag you forward the smallest bit.

"Something wonderful!” She responds in that giddy way of hers, green eyes simmering with something impassioned and restless when they focus on your dumbfounded expression—fire brimming from her touch and her very being. She leans in closer and continues in a secretive whisper, which you think was meant to be soothing at some point between her thought process and strange execution. “But you must come to the roof to see it, my friend."

The….roof?

What’s so special about the fucking—

Oh.

….

Sonuvabitch.

To be completely honest, you knew it would somehow end like this. Betrayed by a moment of weakness and reduced to seething shame and broken trust, only to be real-life ghosted and then unceremoniously Mufasa-ed by your own team. A dramatic, imminent doom of Disney proportions. Ugh, what an embarrassing way to go. You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning like some normal, model citizen with an inane urge to contribute to society. What an idiot.

Still….maybe you’re just being a little over-dramatic here. Heroes usually have non-murdery morals, don’t they? Which is a big step up from your last group of…yeah….they weren’t even close to friends. Still, you can never be too careful these days. Right? Right.

You pull back from Starfire, trying to sound teasing as you respond, while barreling through your baseless internal panic and sprinkle of sugar-riddled guilt. How do you always get yourself into these messes?

"Is this the part where you throw me from the top? For finishing off the leftover cake without telling anyone?"

Beast Boy’s jaw drops.

"That was you?!"

Of course it was.

You laugh nervously and much too awkwardly to be convincing while you scramble to backtrack, "What?! Of course not!"

It was so good.

Starfire looks kind of horrified at your earlier insinuation about the roof, and she pulls away from you completely, eyes wide and unbelieving. She gasps, "We would never!"

Cyborg’s eyebrow shoots up as he studies your reaction. He frowns, lifting a hand to rub at his chin with an exaggerated sweep of his arm—as though he’s taking a moment to think more deeply about the matter—his metal fingers clunk-ing in the blanketing silence when they meet the thick, metal plate covering it. He sounds playful when he speaks up, and you know he’s not taking the news as hard as Gar currently is. 

"Well, now you've given me a lot to think about." He says slowly, amusement thick in his voice and vibrantly pulsing beneath his already crumbling, disappointed façade.

You wonder when it was exactly—when you’d unconsciously began to find his eagerly outspoken and protective spirit, his overly intense and personal pride (in all manners of technological tinkering and projects), and awful, awful acting, somewhat endearing. Maybe it was around the same time you’d grown rather fond of Beast Boy’s organic simplicity with life or perfectly-timed wit, his endearing, steadfast spirit and dorky, down-to-earth charm (though you would deny any accusation that says otherwise, pretending to find his endless stream of puns nothing but annoying). 

Or Starfire’s unfathomable warmth and, mostly smothering, overzealous passion in all things, no matter how small—a burning, extraterrestrial sun with a warrior’s soul and an open heart. Or Raven’s sarcastic calm and quiet disposition, a hopeful kind of darkness—as encompassing as it mystifying—which brings peace in ways one wouldn’t expect or think they needed. 

Or Robin. Noble and kind, brooding, insufferably stubborn, Robin—with an annoying competitive streak that rivals even you. Your outwardly, fearless friend and leader, a little birdie who keeps you from slipping back into your cold, old ways while still wanting to be a part of something better. To be a Titan. Time and time again. And—

Ah, fuck. You’ve gotten so sappy lately.

Near death experiences are the worst.

You roll your eyes at Cyborg, regardless of that grating, growing itch of sentimentality crawling up from your chest and into your throat like a rock, all the while fighting down the upwards twitch your lips.

"Oh, shut up.” You mutter, ducking your head so he won’t see as you move to hobble past the group back into the centre of the living room. “Even though I'm at my weakest right now, it doesn't mean I won't fight you."

Cyborg drops his arm and laughs, "I don't doubt it."

Beast Boy ducks around him; sparing no time as he shrinks down to the form of a chattering, green squirrel. Without breaking stride, he dashes towards your slowing figure, leaping forward to scale the rungs of your crutch. 

You jump at the sudden weight and list sideways, the vibration of his hurried ascent and the clattering of his nails against metal throwing you out of your concentrated state. You lean back too fast in surprise, catching the back of the couch with the underside of your cast to keep yourself somewhat upright, and wait with a raised brow as he moves to pull himself up onto the crutch pad at the top.

"Besides, you proved you’re anything but weak when you kicked Death’s ass! Multiple times.” He chirps proudly, settling back onto his little hind legs to stare up at you, bushy tail twitching and dark eyes round and glinting when they catch the light. “You're a survivor. Always have been.”

You grin, feeling satisfied that he finally seems to be more…relaxed about your injuries now (as opposed to the annoying, but much appreciated, panicked mother-henning you’d experienced throughout the first few weeks back on your feet). You have a sneaking suspicion Cyborg had a hand in this recent development—bless his beautiful, understanding soul—and you make a mental note to treat him to a pizza night soon. Or just hug him really, really tight in relief.

You heft your cast from the couch to hold out two fingers towards Beast Boy.

"And always will be." You agree. He reaches out with a shrill, happy squeak, tapping a front paw against them in a painfully adorable semblance of a high-five. Starfire joins you by the couch and lays her hand against your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, the swelling heat of it soothing the ache and strain of your poor muscles. Her gentle touch slides up, mindful of the bruises still splattered like patchwork across your skin, until you feel her lightly squeeze your shoulder.

"Very much like the warriors of old from my planet." She tells you softly, a smile pulling at her lips when your eyes dart up to look at her. It’s then you realize that all three of them are now looking at you rather expectantly, attention solely trained on your face as the room falls into an eager kind of silence. One that is quick to twist your abdomen into fluttering, nervous knots. 

Right, you think with a start, there was something about the roof—something they wanted me to see. You hesitate (is it getting hot in here, or is that just you self-combusting?), gaze jumping to each of your friends in turn. They continue to stare you down with purpose, waiting for your consent to be dazzled and thoroughly surprised, before you catch the barest hint of movement in your peripheral vision. You glance down at the back of the couch, wanting to scream your frustration to the sky, when you take in the wide, furry face peering back up at you.

Oh, not you too, ZuZu. You traitor.

She locks those intelligent eyes on you. He glowing pink gaze is intent and reprimanding, and god, you’re actually—silently, awkwardly—getting told off by an adorable lizard-themed care bear, who hails from the far reaches of infinity and beyond the known galaxy. What has your life come too? And the worst part is you don’t think you’re strong enough to—oh, goddamit. Peer pressure is a bitch.

"Alright.” You relent with a groan, throwing ZuZu a pointed, disgruntled look (which she simply counters with a glowing pink frill and mischievous wink, a move that has you breathing deeply to avoid just chucking your crutch across the room in defiance of it all). You turn to gesture at the others, “Fine. Let's get this show on the road then."

Beast Boy leaps down from the top of the crutch before you’ve even finished talking, his tiny shape shifting into the much larger form of a tiger once he touches down (more gracefully than you’d expected him to). He gives a little throaty growl in excitement, circling in place to get his bearings. And then with a sudden focus that makes you laugh, he’s bounding in a rush to slink between Cyborg and Starfire—his gaze already intensely trained down the hallway that leads towards the elevator.

"Sweet! Now you’re talking!" He exclaims with a swish of his tail, pausing only for a moment to throw a look back at Cyborg, the familiar imitation of a fanged grin even more terrifying with larger, sharper teeth on display. "Dibs on the donuts!"

Uh, donuts??

Cyborg groans and scrubs a hand over his face, stepping forward with his other hand outstretched, as if he could keep his excited friend from moving with just sheer force of will. "No! You don't get to just—Gar!"

Starfire tilts her head and watches until Beast Boy disappears around the curve of the hallway, "You have to admire his will power up until this moment." She points out, reaching out to brush a soothing touch to Cyborg’s shoulder.

He gives her a solemn nod in agreement. "...true." "Hi, yeah, still confused." You slowly iterate, when it’s clear they’re going to say nothing more on the manner, and looking hilariously haunted, just stare out into the middle distance like some kind of dramatic dork-asses. You can’t help it though—you want answers. You’ve been officially intrigued (donuts are always a good sign and nothing will convince you otherwise) and that cat-damning curiosity in you can never be quieted for long, so help you.

“Are we still going to the roof?”

Cyborg is the first to shake himself to attention, and he swings around to look at you with a knowing grin that tells you’re probably about to regret opening your mouth again. Probably. You guess?

…..

Okay, so you might be already exhausted enough now, with all this moving about and floundering, moral turmoil, to deal with any mysterious roof meetings and their possible consequences—and there’s no truly hiding it, or just burying it away for future you to worry about come morning (damn, why is past you always such a dick?).

Which leaves you decidedly awash in a ‘My mind is an emotional dumpster fire and all I want is to hibernate for forty years’ kind of way, unable to completely distinguish the nuances of your feelings on anything happening within a 10 foot radius. 

Especially since you’d….broken that quiet morning after the attack, finally reconciling with a screeching realization you’d been pushing back for years—even with all that damaged purpose, all that strength and determination and precious time you’d flooded into looking after yourself and only you, instead of worrying about others and how they might screw with you this time, you’d left yourself open anyway. Unwillingly, accidently, raw—like an exposed nerve adrift in the cosmos and crying out for relief.

Someone in power must have had mercy on you at last though, because you have friends. Good friends who are good people. And you love them in your own rough-around-the-edges way (is that the right word here? Love? You hope that’s the right word—it feels like the right word); but there’s no chance you’re ever going to tell any of them that. It’s become too embarrassing to even think about in your own mind, let alone out loud where they could actually...hear you.

But you’re not going to let all your personal baggage stop you now. Not while there’s the promise of donuts anyway.

Yeah, your priorities might need a little sorting out.

"Come on." Cyborg says, already treading backwards in the direction Beast Boy had gone. Starfire zips past you with ease, cutting around the corner like a fish would dart through deep water.

Her laugh echoes through the hall as she vanishes from sight, "Oh, this is going to be such a joyous occasion!"

Cyborg takes his time to snicker at the nervous grimace on your face. But you valiantly choose to be the bigger person here (no matter how much you want to knock your head against the nearest wall and see if your middle finger still works within the stiffness of a cast), simply rolling your eyes as you hobble to catch up to him around the bend in the hallway. He slows his pace without a word until you’re following closely at his side.

“So why aren’t we taking the elevator?” You inquire, watching as the thick metal doors slide past in your peripheral. It’s then you spot the other two loitering around by the door to the stairs.

The plot thickens.

Cyborg struggles to squash his playful grin, “Occupied.”

“By...”

“A second surprise. Now come on.” He diverts smoothly, waving his hand over the sensor for the door once Beast Boy and Starfire step away to make room for you both. It slides open from left to right with a mechanical hiss, and you peer in to the brightly lit stairwell with a raised brow. The glaring, white fluorescent lights are already giving you a headache.

“How do you expect me to get up the stairs?”

“Easy.”

“Oh, really? Easy? What are you even—”

The world shifts like a seesaw in your vision and you can barely comprehend the next few seconds: the way Cyborg stoops low enough to knock out the backs of your knees, the simultaneous rush of weightlessness—a fluttering, dizzying drop in your stomach that stalls the very breath in your chest—or even the jumbled burst of restrained laughter and disapproving click of a tongue which dissipates almost as soon as it starts. 

And you tip backwards into his arms with flailing limbs and a startled yelp as you’re gently scooped up, hanging shocked and boneless until he swings you up to cling onto his back like some sort of panicked koala. Cyborg laughs more boisterously as you lose your crutch in the commotion, grip loosening in your surprise until it slips entirely from your hold and vanishes from reach, the telltale clattering of metal against ground echoing from somewhere off to the side.

“—goddammit, Vic!” You gasp when the world stands still again, sucking in air for your breathless lungs. “A little warning!”

He simply cups the back of your knees and holds your legs tightly over the ridged, triangular slab of metal casing his hips, slowly straightening to his full, giant height again. It gives you a moment to throw your arms around his neck for safety and squeeze with all your reprimanding might. Cyborg turns to look at you with a teasing smirk you’re all too familiar with, before stepping further into the doorway.

“Comfortable there, Grumpy?”

“You’re the worst.” You announce without any real bite, leaning back to scan the floor for your missing crutch. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Starfire has already rescued it, hugging the dented metal pole to her chest with a look of determination. She catches your relieved gaze over Cyborg’s shoulder and nods as if reassuring you that she’s got everything handled now, gently patting the cushioned padding at the top of the crutch.

And then her eyes eagerly snap to Cyborg.

You can’t see his face from your vantage point, but you think he’s relaying permission with the way he tilts his head towards the stairs. Both Starfire and Beast Boy rocket forward in any case, barely sidestepping around you in their race up the first flight of stairs. Cyborg follows them without hesitation, and you can hardly wait another moment once your little group hurriedly passes the third floor, before the mystery of the roof becomes too intriguing to avoid any longer.

“So...are Rob and Raven in on this too?” You carefully begin, speaking to no one in particular but hoping someone might answer you anyway. “Cause they've been more mysterious than usual.”

"Grumpy and observant. You know…you'd make a pretty awesome detective too—give Dick some healthy competition around here." Cyborg returns in an innocent manner, which you know for a fact is bullshit. So you lamely thump a fist against the point between the heavy, metal plating circling his neck before it tapers down into his chest, and grumble your displeasure.

"Annnd you're dodging my questions, big guy. Again."

Cyborg says nothing this time and simply uses the firm hold he has under your knees to toss you up a few inches, jostling you free from your comfortable koala cling as though he`s trying to readjust your position. Only you know that’s not what he intended at all—evidenced by the irritating way he starts to laugh while you groan at him and shimmy urgently at his back, trying to right yourself from the haphazard tilt you’d landed in.

"Ugh! I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs like a normal person!" You whine, bonking your forehead against the smooth, climate-controlled casing covering the back of his head, the vibrations of his full-body laughter rattling straight through you.

Beast Boy goes still ahead of the group, front paw hovering above the next step up. That unsettling tiger grin as he turns to regard you is the only warning you get before the inevitable.

"Eh, I wouldn’t trust these stairs though,” Beast Boy drawls with terrifying purpose, “They always seem like they're…up to something."

Starfire pipes up from her place hovering beside you and Cyborg in perfect comedic timing, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Well yes, up to the roof—oh...that was..."

Yeah, Kori. Damn.

He waits in the ensuing, hollow silence of the stairwell for a reaction, gaze expectantly darting from person to person until you don’t know whether to laugh or just get mad.

....both?

Alright, okay, here’s the thing.

Though you may have...secretly....begun to appreciate Garfield’s endless arsenal of jokes and puns as much as that next person (you’ve got a reputation to uphold after all), that....was not so good. 

You’d face palm if you had complete confidence in your upper body strength as of late, but you definitely do not—especially after that embarrassingly sad attempt to escape to your room earlier (feat. the interference of your awkwardly unexpected, five foot-two bodyguard). And you’d very much like to keep securely clinging for your life atop mount ‘Victory’ Stone instead, rather than somehow (ridiculously) finding some way to slip from his back and fall to a more permanent death down the tower’s two-hundred stairway to hell.

So, you’ll just lock away this existential breakdown for another day and move on. Be the bigger person here, again.

....

Or.

"I think I'm starting to miss the coma." You deadpan with unabashed pettiness (because you’d actually had to listen to that with your own two ears), refusing to give him even the slightest satisfaction of a job well done.

Step up your game, Gar.

You can pinpoint the exact moment Cyborg winces with regret for his friend—his chin dipping down, the glowing blue machinery encasing half his skull whirring with a soft, discomforting humming like he’s finally reduced to just screaming on the inside.

"Oof,” He eventually adds through a long exhale. “I've heard better stuff from you, man."

Beast Boy sniffs in displeasure at your less than positive reactions, "Yo, give me a break; I'm still getting over the pizza thing."

You heft your body up straight to stare him dead in the eyes and lift your unbroken arm, wiggling your fingers over Cyborg’s head in a teasing way. "Let it haunt you for the rest of your daaaays~"

You don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing a hulking, green, murder cat roll its eyes so hard before. But there it is—in all its uncanny, cartoon-like glory. Beast Boy shakes his heavy head and resumes slinking up the stairs, leaving the rest of you to catch up while he throws another line over his shoulder, in a way you know is meant to be a playful declaration of war.

"Which reminds me...” He purrs slyly, “….what did the ghost say when it arrived at the party?"

Starfire taps at her chin in thought, "Ummm hello?”

Beast Boy’s enthusiasm swells with her genuine attempt, and he turns to coax his best friend into answering as well.

"Not quite. Come on, Cy, this is all you dude."

"Can I get a—"

"Victor don't you dare!"

Cyborg merely hums at your desperate interjection, "Uh-oh full name. That's never a good sign."

"Oh!” Starfire’s expression lights up in a way you’re entirely used to by now, and she leaves your side on the flutter of a giddy laugh, hovering quick up the next few steps. She smiles down at Beast Boy once she reaches him, titling her head as he looks up at her with an animated flick of his tail.

“I believe I know this one. May I?" She quietly gushes, twirling to lounge back gracefully in the air beside him. His head bobs once, long and slow, still flashing that sharp grin.

"Dazzle me, Star."

"Can I get the Boo-ya!!?"

"HA! Yeah, that’s wassup!"

You thunk your head against Cyborg’s shoulder this time, wincing at the brief pulse of pain from pounding metal against skull. "Oh my god, are we there yet?"

"As a matter of fact..." Cyborg mysteriously trails off, hopping up the last step to the top landing of the stairway. You peek up in interest and immediately want a better look when you see that the access to the roof is propped open the slightest bit, squishing your cheek against Cyborg’s as you lean forwards with the anticipation of it all. It’s easy to spot the flickering movement from just beyond the door—shadows moving fast from one end to the other. Is someone already there?

You suck in an anxious breath when Cyborg lowers himself to one knee and releases his hold on you, carefully helping you dismount from your cling, and Starfire is all too eager to return your crutch, pushing it into your arms and waving you forwards. Your friends let you nudge open the door then without another word, following you out as you bravely take your first few steps and—

…..

You think you might’ve blacked out for a moment in shock.

Beast Boy circles your legs as you silently take in the state of the roof, rubbing against them with a gentle brush of his body before he exclaims, "Surprise! Did we getcha??"

You blink a few times to get your bewildered mind working again. Because out of any possible scenario you could have—and did—invent within your imagination….it was nothing like…well, this.

The smell of hot food wafting through the summer-like air reaches you first, and you’re drawn to admire what is definitely Starfire's touch in your unexpected surprise. 

There are two tables set up across the roof directly ahead, side by side and pushed flush against the lip of rectangular ledge boxing in the space. Each wooden surface is filled with cutlery, food and drinks in jade colored bowls and glasses, and adorned with fun, rainbow coloured table cloths—the cheap, plastic kind you’d find from a dollar store—and regal centre pieces among the clutter. These consist of wreaths with beaded jewel strings and alien metal shapes, forms that remind you of branded symbols you’d once glimpsed from the hilts of her homeworld weapons.

There’s a fancy new boom box sitting on the ledge, just to the left of the food tables. It’s silvery and shiny in the late evening light, akin to the small heap of patterned presents sitting below it, or the bouquets of metallic balloons weighed down by sandbags in each corner of the roof. 

Cyborg’s own creative touch is more quiet, but still obvious in your racing mind, reflected in the large blue and white fairy lights the size of your fist, strings of them hooked beneath the ledge and spaced along the entire perimeter of the roof. They remind you of mini lava lamps—slowly swinging, each casing filled with swirling, pulsing energy, casting loops of light and shadow which dance across the sleek stone of the rooftop ground.

Your gaze finds four, dark green bean bag chairs next, moved from the game room to sit in a circle further down the left side of the roof. A neat, tent-like canopy, reminiscent of Raven’s more gothic looking style, is set up over them and affixed with steel piping, made of sheer dark sheets in purple, blue, and black—a cozy, magical lounging spot that makes you long for the calmness and dark that only sleep can bring. 

You slowly turn to your right, noting that access to the elevator on the other side of the roof is surprisingly clear for once, the usual pile of rickety telescope gear stored away to make room for dancing. And through an odd urge to cast a look behind you, you easily catch sight of the cute, homemade banner dangling above the door you’ve just stepped through, green and bubblegum pink letters scrawled across a white strip of poster board: Party Like It’s Your Birthday!!

You recognize Beast Boy’s handwriting the moment your eyes trace the first few letters.

It takes you a moment, still staring out at the culmination of your surprise, to realize that it all clashes terribly, although you don't find yourself caring in the slightest. It’s beautiful and endearing and makes sense to you in every way that matters—and you wouldn't have it look any other way.

Huh…look at that.

You're actually getting a hang of this sappy feelings thing.  "Uh, wh—I…what's all this for?" You finally manage to sputter out, once your friends go back to watching you with those barely contained grins and expectant gazes. Even Raven, already in the midst of final preparations, standing by that glorious canopy as she methodically smoothes out wrinkles in the overlapping fabric—both manually and magically—is smiling shyly at you over her shoulder. Her dark, purple-colored eyes are carefully mapping out every hitch in your expression. 

Like the others, she’s dressed more casually than you’re used to seeing around the tower; ripped dark-washed skinny jeans with a cropped tee to match and clunky, black combat boots, a leather choker that looks uncomfortably tight around her neck. But the most unexpected difference has to be when you realize what she’s missing. Her signature, purple-blue cloak has been swapped for a hooded, bomber jacket—black with gold zippers and detailing, and one size too big. It’s so strange a sight that it’s actually….kind of weirding you out a little.

Starfire grasps the wrist of your cast and gently tugs you forward, guiding you further into the organized mayhem that was once the tower’s roof. "The happiest day of birth to you my friend!"

Oh. Oh.

Now this is awkward.

"It's my…birthday?" You ask dumbly. Beast boy’s tiny head, that of an adorably, fluffed up squirrel monkey this time, pops up from the depths of a bowl sitting on the first food table—like some knock-off whack-o-mole game (and wait a goddamn minute, when the hell did he even get there?). His little hands grip the lip of the bowl as he chatters through crunching pretzels.

"Duh! At least yeah, I think so…uh, right?"

You clasp a hand to your forehead when you remember the date and groan, "No, no, you’re right, I think it is. Crap, I feel like I lost an entire year."

Starfire’s whole body slumps at your reaction, floating down until her feet touch ground.

"You are unhappy." She concludes sadly.

Aw, cripes, why are you like this?

"NO! No, Kori, I'm happy!” You hurriedly reassure her, “I just....I haven't really celebrated it in a long time. I never had anyone to..."

They hear your unspoken implication clear enough and offer you sad, little smiles—varying degrees of empathy seeping through into their expressions. Empathy. And not pity. Not judgment. Just compassion from people who understand it all. 

An alien princess far from home who embraces difference and is learning to choose a life for herself, a half-cybernetic football star who had to learn when to let go and walk a new path in life, a troubled half-demon not wanting to be defined by the past or her heritage, a metahuman menagerie of animals fighting the pull of loneliness while still finding strength in his friends, and an orphan circus boy turned vigilante—given not only a second chance to make a difference for others, but unwavering hope as well.

Your own Breakfast Club of heroes.

"Well now ‘ya have us." Beast Boy says with serious resolve you haven’t often seen when it comes to your loyal jokester, the others agreeing simultaneously as he bounds closer in small leaps from across the table. There’s a painful clenching in your chest at their sentiments, and although it feels like you’re on the verge of a heart attack, it’s a good kind of hurt that brings relief to your entire being.

Because thinking it is one thing, but hearing it out loud dregs more emotion to the surface than you ever thought you had—makes it all the more real. You swallow thickly and try to keep composed through another monumental shift in your perceptions.

"I know." You return softly.  Starfire takes your hand and holds it firmly in hers, mindful of the strength in her grip.

"And you are indeed truly....happy?"

Well, that’s a heavy question.

You never truly belonged anywhere, in the past. Too unnatural for everyday civilians, too angry for heroes, too kind for villains. You never understood why no one could just let you be....something in the middle.

But now, you think you’re finally learning that happy is something you can be, even while half-existing in that kind of grey area. So you squeeze her hand in reassurance and take a page from Beast Boy’s book—you attempt to lighten the mood.

"I will be once we get this party started." You tease, pulling away to turn on the boom box and click through stations in search of something party worthy. With that, the others move to disperse; Starfire and the boys already picking through the food tables with interest, while Raven briefly ducks beneath one to retrieve an opaque, plastic storage tote. 

It’s blue and more than decently sized in her arms, but she carries it easily and without a word to the bean bag canopy, sitting (legs crossed and back perfectly straight) to methodically sift through its contents.

Starfire waves you towards the food tables once you settle on a popular radio station known for their mix of genres and artists—a little something for everyone hopefully.

"Come then, you must partake in some of this delicious food. I tried earth recipes." She proudly tells you, scooping up some sort of rice dish to wave under your nose as though hoping to entice you further. It smells pleasant, of grilled vegetables and egg, but all your attention has latched onto a single word that equally intrigues as it concerns you.

“Tried.” You echo, leaning to balance on your crutch and free up your unbroken arm. You press a single finger against the rim of the dish in her hands, lowering it down and away from your face. Starfire looks a little sheepish as she curls an arm around the ceramic, rounded dish and fits it into the crook of her elbow to rest, lifting her own newly freed arm to sweep a lock of hair behind her ear. A nervous tick.

She hugs the dish even closer, “There were…the incidents.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle.” Raven adds from afar. Starfire leans around you to beam at her welcome encouragement; seeming as though she’s already seconds away from just fly-tackling her into a vice-like hug—a very Starfire act of affection.

Which you should probably redirect now, if you want to keep that beautiful canopy standing.

"Everything smells great, Star. Thank you. In fact..." You select a spoon from the first table and a tiny serving plate, before gesturing in silent question to the dish still in her arms. She’s ecstatic at your offer, extending it to you at once with bright, shining eyes. You carefully ladle out a few spoonfuls of the rice mixture, and with a playful cheers and raise of your spoon, you taste your first dish of the evening.

"Oh shit, that's good." You groan in surprise.

"Oh wonderful, I knew you would enjoy it!"

Beast Boy whoops eagerly from the centre of the second table, crouching among a spread of simple desserts. "Wicked! I call the donuts next!"

Cyborg anticipates his movement before you can, firmly squashing a hand against Beast Boy’s monkey head to keep him from leaping towards an open tray. Beast Boy whines openly at the injustice.

"Dude, come on, be cool!"

Ah, now that makes sense.

Starfire sighs and returns the tasty rice dish to its rightful place, hesitating only to shoot you an apologetic look as she steps towards the commotion. But you just smile in understanding, gesturing for her to go on and deal with the boys before they decimate all of her hard work.

And now it’s probably a good idea to clear the blast zone.

You make a rather slow beeline for the front entrance of the canopy, lowering your body down to sit in the place Raven silently offers you by shifting pointedly to the side—content to be off your feet for a moment. Raven picks up on your underlying curiosity though, the second you glance at the box still under her scrutiny, her gaze cutting up to regard you with the slightest touch of amusement. 

You observe the way she tips her head, a pulse of darkened magic lighting up around the mysterious container, and it slides in a short burst to rest in front of you.

Well, well, what do we have here?

You peer down into the depths and react too late to stifle your gasp.

It’s filled with boxes of classic party games and entertainment, stacked upon each other in neat little towers along the inside: video game cartridges and two portable games devices, a deck of cards, Connect Four, Cluedo, and yep….that's definitely Twister, oh my fuck (you may be a little over excited for this. Which is strange for you...considering you can't even remember the last time you've ever so passionately, deeply, viscerally, wanted to roll out a stupid, colorful tarp and contort your body into unhealthy positions), a wooden board and an accompanying game-piece tin for Checkers, Pictionary, Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, the Game of Life (aaaannd too real with this one actually, might be avoiding that), Guess Who?, Snakes and Ladders, as well as games you hadn't seen since your earlier days of childhood—Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and Hungry Hungry Hippos (meaning your small child self is living right now).  

Only one person knew about this, knew about your stupid birthday-candle wishes from the short, hopeful part of your childhood that's since been eradicated by harsh realities; the longing desperation to make any kind of worthwhile connection, to know love or be wanted outside of a means to a quick pay-day. 

To swing with others at a crowded park, to play games and join clubs, or have a sleepover with greasy food and late night truths—to be free (and you blame this emotional vomit entirely on exhausted, blabbermouth you, spilling your guts in a tired stupor while sharing stove-top hot chocolate in the kitchen at 3 a.m. Feeling vulnerable when he'd quietly shared his own frustrations with the role of leader and recent disconnect with his father, letting you lament in return about never getting the chance to just…be a normal kid. Something he understood. Something he remembered).

Oh, Dick Grayson.

You are the best of us.

You shake your head clear of any vivid memories, reaching in to unearth the Twister box and hold it up to admire its magnificence in the rapidly fading light. "So.” You start in what you hope is a casual enough tone, exchanging the box for another to seem busy. “You put all of this together, huh?"

She shrugs, "We figured you could use some...fun. After everything that's happened."

You grin and fish out an exceptionally old classic next, pointing the vibrant box of colourful, caricature hippos at her. "I didn't think this was your kind of fun, Rae."

"It's not.” Raven admits bluntly, floating the game from your hands despite your protest and back into the storage container with a challenging raise of her brow. “But I can enjoy the value in it. And in spending time with my friends." 

(You don’t do enough of that. Why don’t you do enough of that?)

"Pfft are you going soft on us?" You say, weakly avoiding eye contact while wrestling away the any more intrusive thoughts and stabs of related guilt.

You watch her fight the beginnings of a smirk, "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh man, that's disgusting even for you B.B!" Cyborg grouses suddenly in the distance, and you’ve never felt so relieved for a distraction in your young life. Your friend is standing in front of the farthest food table when you look over, his hands on his hips and a frown of disapproval trained on something among the mass of dishes and delicious smelling cuisine. 

You find out why when you follow his line of sight, your body and gaze lifting a tad to seek out what’s happened—and you can’t say you’re all too surprised with this inevitable development.

Beast Boy is laying, dramatically draped, across the tray of donuts he’d been denied earlier, monkey toes wriggling to dispel powdered sugar from between them.

"Let me live my life, man." He jokes between fistfuls of sweet pastry. Cyborg makes a grab for him in retaliation and he jerks back out of reach as if fully expecting this outcome, throwing himself to the side in a graceful dodge.

"Halt! Oh please do watch out for the—"

In his flurry of movement—kicking out his legs for momentum and rolling head over feet to a neat stop a few feet further down the table—Beast Boy accidently whacks the side of another bowl near the edge, the dish teetering dangerously on the precipice of destruction.

But Starfire is always quick on her feet. She lunges for the bowl and makes the catch before it can fall victim to the laws of gravity (those you’re already painfully aware of), cradling it safely in her arms and sighing in relief as she cordially lifts it in your direction.

"Do not fear! I have saved the mac of the cheese!"

"Though it has its moments." Raven deadpans, flipping up her hood with a shake of her head.

"Speaking of moments…is this a good time for a dramatic entrance?"

Starfire whirls around unearthly fast at the familiar voice, the echo spiking through the low, near constant beat and rhythm drifting from the speakers of the boom box—none of you having heard a door open or close, or even a single footfall drop onto the roof.

"Robin! You have made it!"

Alright.

You know he’s practically a ninja (because it’s what he’s been dutifully trained to do), but you still think this deserves a hearty what the hell anyway.

How long has he even been standing there?

Though before you can reflect too deeply on the matter, you find yourself bearing witness to Robin’s handling of the fly-tackle hug. To his credit, he takes the sudden, colliding weight like a champ; a short laugh ripped from him at the initial breath-stealing thump, and he stumbles back to restore his balance without falling on his ass.

You can tell that he’s definitely a pro at this by now.

He gives her a generous, friendly squeeze before they part, turning his attention back to the rest of his team. It’s then you fully take in how he’s dressed; slim-fitting jeans, a dark blue tee, a solid, gray flannel shirt over top—unbuttoned and left hanging open, long sleeves rolled up at to his elbows—and red converse. 

His knee is still in a brace, a black watch with a stiff Kevlar strap fastened around his left wrist, its face square and rimmed with silver. And from your place you can even study the state of his dark hair—soft and without gel, but noticeably mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.  

"There's our fearless leader!” You warmly call out, letting Raven ease you helpfully to your feet so that you can welcome your newly arrived team member. You lightly bump your cast against his shoulder once you reach him, and then again just to be annoying when he nudges your arm away the first time (but not without a fond roll of his eyes).

With less distance your gaze finds thin, pink marks left like badges on his skin, the stitches having already healed and dissolved from under his chin and across his collarbone, his blue eyes a little hazy in their focus. 

All in all, he looks tired up this close, in small ways you might overlook in passing—his grin beginning to wilt just at the upper corners of his lips, dropping eyelids and subtle bruising under his eyes, and the barest smudges of oil left neglected on his person; freckle-like specks across his jaw, staining the toes of his converse and the collar of his t-shirt (that particular one looking especially dark and ingrained into the fabric, like he’d hastily blotted at the spot in a rush and then gave up half-way through)—though you wouldn’t guess it from his posture. 

He’s all squared shoulders, a confident lift of his head and a soft, delighted glint in his eyes despite the heaviness you’d noticed before. He’s proud even in the face of exhaustion, so you elect not to bring any attention to it.

“I was beginning to think Batman whisked you off back home for some clown-punching and father-son bonding." You continue impishly, mimicking his mentor’s cowl by placing an index finger on either side of your head. You bounce them up and down in a tease.

"No, that was last month.” Robin reminds you dryly, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the open elevator door he’d obviously emerged from. “I was actually just finishing up some final touches on an old friend of yours."

Huh. O…kay?

"Ominous." Cyborg offers before you can voice your own confusion, settling back against a food table with a deviously knowing smile.

Best Boy huffs with palpable disappointment instead, climbing swiftly onto the ledge behind his friend. He scuttles around a portion of the roof to sit beside the thumping boom box, while still taking time to throw out his own affirmation on the matter, before shifting back into his human form and swinging his dangling legs to the beat of the current song.

"Yeah, way creepy, dude."

Robin frowns, “I was being mysterious!”

Cyborg seems to be enjoying this immensely for some reason, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, don’t.”

“Damn. Don’t hold anything back.”

“Do not worry, Robin.” Starfire remarks with a pat to his shoulder, “I still find you the mysterious.”

You try to stifle your sputtering laughter as Robin sighs in defeat, reaching up to touch her hand in wordless thanks. He motions for you to stay where you are then, swiping his finger across the face of his watch. It lights up blue like a touch screen, and something large and humming (a machine?) darts from the inside of the elevator.  

The futuristic motorcycle that slides to a near-silent stop in front of you is like something right out of Tron. There’s a high leather seat and bullet-proof windshield among sleek, rounded black metal and glowing, magnetic green lights. They detail the length of the body like racing stripes, circling around the headlights and up into the shape of a triangle above them, as well as lining the inside rims of its large, treaded wheels (two in front and one in the back). The padded, silver handles poke through the front casing like devil horns.

It’s a familiar, wrenching image—one you could only dream of seeing again after the brutal attack on Jump City.

"Lucy!” You burst out instantly, and much to the Robin’s immense enjoyment, hopping forward in your excitement to reach your beloved cycle. You trace your fingers over the glowing triangle, pressing your palm to the leather seat with stinging, blurry eyes. It feels warm. Alive. “Oh my crap, you resurrected my bike!"

Cyborg gently pats the cycle with pride, "Rob and I spent weeks trying to fix her up. Finally got all the parts working again."

"You—this is—holy shit."

"Glad you like it."

Robin throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, pretending not notice your muffled sniffling like a super-star best friend. "Happy birthday, (Y/N)." He mutters, loosening the fancy watch so he can clasp it around your unbroken wrist in a nimble flourish.

Cyborg pumps his fist in the air when you choke out a disbelieving laugh, victoriously striding to the centre of the roof to proclaim:  

"Well, what are we standing around here for? Let's get this thing started!"

“Oh yes, let us start the celebration my friends!”

“Eh, sure.”

"Party people!" Beast Boy cries out in agreement, finally leaping down from the ledge.

"Alright, Alright. You don't have to tell me twice." Robin chuckles, gesturing for the others to go ahead with the festivities. He stays to hover around you though, and is suspiciously quiet at first, simply stepping around you and your newly built cycle to pluck a can of soda from a food table. He idly brushes away condensation with a broad swipe of his thumb, waiting for the others to further disband around you both. 

When the coast is clear, evident by the way he glances from side to side, he turns towards you with his head down, popping the tab on the can and taking a heavy gulp. You raise a brow and wait, more than aware of his tendency by now to try and constantly torture you with the value of patience. He purses his lips in thought, before he finally meets your gaze with a playful twist to his usual smirk.

“So, hey.” He begins somewhat offhandedly, drumming his fingers across the surface of the table, “We should take a team picture at some point. All of us. Like a…memory of tonight’s occasion—if you want.”

You shouldn’t make it this easy for him—because he’ll never stop teasing you about how quickly you caved—but you find that you truly do like the idea. He just doesn’t need to know how much at the moment. So you settle on feigning tired reluctance, hoping (fooslishly) that he doesn’t see right through you.

“It wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“You guess?”

….

It’s really annoying when he does that.

You pout at the light amusement in his tone and follow his earlier path to the table, seizing a donut in a moment of pure impulse from the tray Beast Boy had previously vacated. You feel satisfied when you notice that it’s one of the unfortunate monkey feet ones, and then thrust it into Robin’s free hand. 

He must have been around long enough to see the offense for himself, because his nose crinkles in distaste when he registers what you’ve given him, letting the tainted pastry dangle from two fingers.

Sweet revenge.

You dole out smirk of your own.

“Eat your donut, dick.”

*****************************************************************

It’s well into the evening, sunset colours already fading calmly from the sky, when Robin parks himself next to you on the ledge of the roof, smoothly swinging his legs over and dropping to sit with a long sigh of relief. Huh…it seems like someone definitely had a longer day today than they let on.

And honestly? Mood.

You tap him with the rounded bottom of the crutch lying across your lap, throwing him a cursory glance and a smile in greeting. But he doesn’t respond the way you expect him to, no. Instead, you’re surprised to see that rare, relaxed grin of his already peeking through all of the obvious exhaustion.

"What are you smiling about, Grayson? You're creeping me out." You muse gently, brow arching at the amusement that grows all the more in the curl of his smile. It’s like he’s proudly uncovered some great secret in the time it took you to voice your thoughts, and is now going to make you work for a satisfying answer. Which, you have to admit, isn’t a very unusual outcome when it comes to your friend and his bat-crazy mentor.

Heh.

Gar would love that one.

"Oh, you know…nothing too important.” Robin counters with a non-committal shrug of his shoulder.

Uhhh, yeah, that’s not comforting in the slightest, you decide.

You narrow your eyes at him and poke at his upper arm accusingly, “You’re never really this terrible of a liar usually.”

“Well, usually isn’t now.”

You pause to let his utter nonsense sink in.

“Are all detectives this uselessly cryptic or is this just a you thing?”

“I think it’s a family thing actually.”

“That I believe.” You laugh, gripping tight to the edge of the concrete ledge with one hand as you lean forward to admire the twinkling darkness of the water far below—a beautiful, convoluted gloom in the beginnings of silver moonlight. You catch his lingering stare in your peripheral when you shift, an odd amount of softness there you’re not exactly used to seeing directed your way.

“What?” You ask again in exasperation (and maybe a tad more overly sharp than you wanted). He only winks when you turn to get a better read on him, and looking much too smug and unconcerned, tips his head back to study the distant, firefly-like pinpricks of light just now glittering through the encroaching dark above you.

There’s a blissful beat of silence between the continuously wafting smells (of heavy spices and cheese and the lingering sweetness of fancy chocolate) and the nearby ambient sounds of your friends locked in an intense game of Jenga (their laughter and conversation—Raven is definitely on a roll by the sounds of it—the clinking of cutlery and plates, and the low, near-constant pop music blanketed beneath it all), and then—

“Welcome home.” He says quietly.

You stare at him a moment longer; hesitant, flustered, warm—like some kind of utter punch-drunk goober—until your gaze slips mercifully back to the sky, drawn in by the trembling might of the stars far out of reach.

And you let the moment sit within the unexpected, peaceful calm his voice brings, unbroken without a sarcastic quip or cynical remark, just this once. A moment to find value in.

Because this is your family, or….what you’d always imagined one to be.

So, even though you’d never truly been privy to a lot of happiness before this—this tiny, momentous moment right where you need to be; sitting on the roof ledge of your home—you find your own sense of peace in thinking that here and now, if there ever was a happy place in this life for you—

This is it.  

[gncwomensvogue]

Starting to Find Your Style

Wear what makes you comfortable.

Being “comfortable” in what you wear doesn’t mean you have to be physically comfortable. Being comfortable means wearing a style that makes you feel GOOD, deep down inside. 

Like wearing those pinchy shoes because they make you feel authentic? Go for it.

Like wearing cozy hoodies because they’re soft and easy to wear? Go for it.

Experiment with color.

If you can, try on clothing of all the colors you don’t normally wear. You might find that you like a color you had never considered!

Don’t be afraid that a color doesn’t compliment your hair/skin/eyes. If you like it, wear it with confidence and it will represent you. Worry about fashion “rules” later.

Try out different fabrics.

Learn what textures you think look good.

Learn what textures feel wrong on you.

This will make sure you’re already familiar with the fabrics you know you LOVE and HATE. This helps a lot with online shopping–you won’t fall in love with a piece of clothing, only to find out that you hate the fabric it comes in.

Look at what you already own.

It’s never practical to throw out your ENTIRE wardrobe. So first, pick out the stuff you like wearing. You can start to build your style from there.

For everything you HATE–think about why you hate it. Is it too feminine? Is it associated with bad memories? Is it in ugly colors, unflattering cuts? This helps you when you start to change your style.

Pick ONE accessory that you really like.

If you’re worried you don’t have a “style” yet–pick one accessory, or style of accessory, to keep on hand.

That way you can have your “signature” item that the people around you will recognize. It’ll make your style more cohesive.

For example–Wear snapbacks. Have a bandana incorporated into your outfit. Favorite rings. A specific style of sunglasses. These all help make your style individualistic. 

[queen-scribbles]

My Kind of Party

Just under the wire contribution tor ME Halloween feat. an extremely domestic and fluffy  Emily and Kaidan. :D Title to come if I think of one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Is this really necessary?”

“Oh, come on, Em, it’s not Halloween without a jack-o-lantern,” Kaidan said with a grin as he centered the large pumpkin in the house’s bay window.

“Yeah, a jack-o-lantern,” Emily retorted playfully, tracing the jagged mouth of the one in her lap. “I feel like fifteen might be overdoing it, babe.”

He chuckled and tossed a small stuffed spider at her. “Overdoing it, says the woman wearing candy corn socks.”

Emily caught the spider and shrugged. “If I’m not gonna eat it, I have to pay homage to the traditional holiday treat somehow.”

“Some would argue you really don’t,” Kaidan said, still grinning as he crossed the room and kissed her forehead before taking the jack-o-lantern from her. “Where’d you get those, anyway? I don’t remember seeing them before.”

Emily curled the spider in one hand, the other raking absently through her bangs. “Nora. Bumped into her at the rehab center.” She snorted. “Almost literally. Her dad’s appointment overlapped with mine.”

“How’s he doing?” Kaidan asked as he positioned the last jack-o-lantern.

“Almost done,” she replied, hearing the envy in her voice. She glared at her feet and concentrated until, with an absurd amount of effort, her toes curled and uncurled. Yay for progress. “He’s definitely ready to never set foot in the building again.”

“Hey.” Kaidan must have caught something in her voice--or he just knew her too damn well--because he left the pumpkin he was arranging and sat next to her on the couch. “Em, Eric got hurt months before you did. He started therapy and rehab months before you did. Of course he’s going to finish before you do.”

“That’s only part of it,” Emily admitted, playing with the spider. “I know all... all that, but I still wanna be done. And I’ll miss Eric  when he stops coming.”

“Uh-oh, should I be worried?” Kaidan teased, tugging her legs into his lap.

“Don’t worry, he’s not my type,” she shot back, grinning. “I tend to shy away from guys with kids my age. You’re safe, Major.” She reached over and sat the spider atop his head.

“That’s a relief, Commander,” he returned, rubbing her foot. “Ooh, these are soft.”

“Too bad they’re mine, not yours,” Emily said, sticking out her tongue triumphantly. She couldn’t really feel the socks that well, not with her feet, but she’d take what victories she could get.

“You know what else is too bad?” Kaidan whispered, leaning close. The spider slid off, back into Emily’s lap.

“What?” she whispered back, almost instinctively reaching to cup his jaw with one hand.

“I promised Mom we’d be done decorating by the time she got home.” He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm. “We only have another half an hour left.”

“She’s knows I’m distracting....” Emily murmured. “The decorations can wait...” She pressed forward for a kiss.

“You’re wicked is what you are,” Kaidan mumbled, resting his forehead against hers.

“Mm. Should I paint myself green?” He hand sank into the sofa cushions as she pressed against them for leverage. 

“You’re too pretty to be a witch,” he protested, fingers sliding through her hair.

“Only bad witches are ugly,” Emily pointed out in a mischievous whisper.

“Last time I checked, the green one was bad,” Kaidan countered.

“Depends on who’s telling the story...”

He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Wow, someone’s been hitting Mom’s classic movies hard.”

“They only make sense to watch one after the other,” Emily shrugged, idly toying with the spider once more.

“Do I want to know when you held this mini marathon?” Kaidan asked, frowning slightly in concern as he sat back. One hand rubbed lightly along her leg.

“Last night,” she admitted with a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Em, I told you to wake me if the nightmares-”

“It wasn’t nightmares, Kay.” Emily rested one hand on his arm reassuringly.  “Y’know those weird pinchy-pains Dr. Ahn warned I might get as I work on getting my legs back? Had just a little bit of that. Barely enough to be an annoyance. And you worked so hard yesterday, I didn’t have the heart...” 

Kaidan cut her off with another stolen kiss. “Next time, wake me. Even if I fall right back asleep on you,cuddling and watching classic movies doesn’t sound like a half-bad way to spend the wee hours of the morning.”

“Noted,” Emily smiled. “Now, didn’t you say something about needing to finish decorating...?”

“You are a distracting little minx,” he complained good-naturedly, stealing one last kiss before shifting her feet back to the floor so he could stand.

Emily grabbed the front of his shirt before he moved out reach and tucked the spider in his pocket. “I think you’ll need this. There’s a distressing lack of spider representation along the window valance.”

Kaidan glanced in the direction she’d indicated, then back to her with a grin. “You just want to, um, appreciate the view.”

She smirked. “It’s a view worth appreciating, babe.”

“Touche,” he laughed. “You’re lucky I don’t mind.”

“I’m lucky for many reasons, but that is one of the ones I’m most grateful for. Now get back to work,” she ordered teasingly. “We need to be ready for your mom’s party.”

--O--

They--Kaidan mostly--finished just in time. Kaidan’s mother thanked them warmly when she returned and reiterated her invitation for them to stay for the party, especially since they’d worked so hard on the set-up.

“Thanks again, Rae, but I have an early doctor’s appointment tomorrow, so I’m probably going to turn in soon,” Emily said as Kaidan helped her from the couch to her chair. “Might watch a movie while I give Mo her brushing.” At the sound of her name, the dog curled in the corner of the living room hopped up and stretched before trotting over. Emily smiled and ruffled her ears.

“We’ll try to keep it down, but no promises,” Rae said with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, they both sleep like logs,” Kaidan interjected.

On a good night, Emily mentally completed the sentence. “You have fun, though.”

“Oh, we will.” Rae pulled a pointed black hat from one of the bags she carried and looked bemused when Emily and Kaidan glanced at each other and laughed. “I’m sensing a private joke here...”

“It’s nothing, Mom, don’t worry,” Kaidan grinned. “Just enjoy your party and we’ll enjoy ours.”

Emily snapped her fingers on the way out of the room, and Mo fell in step behind Kaidan. “You know you could have stayed,” she commented as the three of them made their way down the hall. “Just ‘cause I’m going to bed early doesn’t mean you have to, too.”

“I know.” Kaidan paused for a second to let Mo scamper ahead of them to the bedroom. “I want to come with you. Your party sounds more my speed-”

“Brushing the dog and watching a movie?” Emily said skeptically.

“-and I have a bit of a headache starting.”

“Kaidan-”

“Don’t Kaidan me, it’s not a migraine, Em, just a headache. It’s not that bad, I just don’t want to spend the evening in a room full of people and music and flashing lights when watching a movie with you until one of us falls asleep on the other’s shoulder is an option,” he explained, smiling faintly.

Emily pursed her lips, fingers tapping against the arm of her chair. “Are you sure...?”

“I’m sure it’s just a headache,” Kaidan promised, helping her maneuver the turn into their bedroom. “And I’m sure I want to curl up with you and watch a movie.”

“Well, I’m sold,” Emily said, laughing as she caught sight of Mo. The dog was sitting on Emily’s side of the bed, ears perked up as she looked toward the door expectantly. “Someone’s eager. Bet she hid her brush again. Babe, why don’t you pick out a movie while I find what she did with it.” 

“You didn’t already have something in mind?” Kaidan raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing specific, just something Halloween-y. Y’know, monsters, ghosts, vampires, somethin’ like that,” she replied absently, looking around for Mo’s brush. “But not gory.”

“I don’t think we or my mother own anything gory,” Kaidan said wryly.

“Well, that makes your job easier, doesn’t it?” Emily joked. She spotted the dog brush under the bed and signaled Mo to go get it. Mo happily obliged, her tail wagging as she crawled past two dog toys and a squeaky ball to retrieve the brush. “Good girl,” Emily cooed as she emerged, triumphantly clenching the brush handle in her teeth.

“D’you feel like horror or comedy?” Kaidan asked, turning slightly to look at her.

“Seriously, Kay, I don’t-”

“I have it narrowed down to two and can’t decide,” he interrupted with a smile. “So, horror or comedy?”

Emily bit her lip as she took the brush from Mo and ruffled the dog’s ears in reward. “What kind of horror?”

“The synopsis calls it ‘romantic’. Whatever that means...”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood for that one tonight.”

“Well, then.” Kaidan used his omnitool to turn on the vidscreen and start the movie. “Bloody Mary it is.” He caught the look Emily was sending him and grinned. “What?”

“Bloody Mary? Really?” she needled as she moved from her chair to the bed. Mo scootched over, tail still wagging.

“It’s a vampire buddy comedy,” Kaidan pointed out as he settled on the bed next to her, the dog in between them. “If you want something Halloween-y but not horror and no gore, this is a good choice. Besides, I seem to remember walking in on you watching Call Me Sally once, so I don’t think you’re in any position to critique.”

Emily snorted, beginning to brsh Mo when she butted her hand impatiently.  “Once. When I had almost died and thee was nothing better to watch ‘cause it was, like, a week after the Reaper invasion.”

“Shh, Em, you’re gonna miss the movie,” Kaidan teased, dodging the pillow she tried to whack him with. “This is a good movie. It’s funny, and it has vampires.”

“What more could we want?” Emily joked, leaning over to steal a kiss. 

“Peace and quiet to watch our movie?” he said impishly. Emily rolled her eyes and lightly punched his shoulder, but stayed silent as she continued brusing Mo. It was a funny movie, and she enjoyed it, it was just fun to tease him. 

After she’d finished with brushing Mo and the dog was laying curled up between her legs, chin resting on Emily’s knee--a favorite position for them both--Emily stored the brush in the drawer of her nightstand and pulled something else out. “Almost forgot; I have something for you.”

Kaidan took one look at her impish grin and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. Or should I be concerned?”

“Gratitude is fine,” she laughed as she handed over the small bundle, wrapped up in a shopping bag.

Kaidan quickly shook it loose and couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Emmy, you shouldn’t have.”

“Technically I didn’t,” Emily said with a smirk, reaching over to feel the black and orange argyle socks. The black diamonds sported carved pumpkins, and the material felt just as soft as the ones she was wearing. “Nora did, with my candy corn ones, and they were both supposed to be for me. But they’re ‘one size fits most’ and I can only wear one pair of novelty socks at a time, an’ like someone very wise told me recently; it’s not Halloween-”

“-without jack-o-lanterns,” Kaidan finished with her. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He leaned over for a kiss, then traded his plain black socks for the jack-o-lantern ones. 

“My pleasure,” Emily said, smiling broadly as she pulled him in for another kiss. “You think you have enough jack-o-lanterns now?”

He laughed into the kiss at her gentle ribbing. “Plenty. And we have candy corn-” he nudged her foot with his- “and vampires. I think we’re all set.”

Emily snuggled closer, leaning her head against his chest. “I like our Halloween party.”

Kaidan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Me, too.”

With that, they both turned their attention back to the movie. They also both fell asleep long before the credits rolled. As Halloween parties went, it wasn’t fancy. But it was perfect for them.

[lethriloth]

prime numbers for the ask meme

2. If you had to describe tastes without using any taste-specific descriptive words, how would you do it?

This is hard - I'd probably do it with tactile analogies? Some are obvious to me - heat for heat, of course, sour is kind of stingy-pinchy, fats are soft-smooth-gentle. Others are harder, I can't right now think of a good analogy for sweetness or saltiness or umami.

3. What is the effect on you of having people physically nearby, if they’re not interacting with you?

Pretty much the same as if they are interacting with me, but less so. A lot of people are slightly tiring, some are comforting and rejuvenating, some are viscerally unpleasant to be around.

5. If you could change the color of your blood with no other effect, would you do it?

Assuming it changes my coloration similarly, maaaaaybe blue. (Like, changing the reddish tint behind the skin, not changing the skin color itself) Otherwise, there wouldn't be much point besides complicating situations (like first-aid or other medical care) that really aught not be complicated.

7. Would you rather come up with the core of a brilliant invention, or find someone else’s design and bring it to completion and usability?

I think the latter.

11. When you read a book, does a fixed mental image (from a movie or illustration) improve or hurt your experience of the characters?

Doesn't do a thing. When I read books I almost never have actual visualizations of the characters.

13. After you finish a good book or movie, how much do you want sequels compared to an equally good and independent book/movie?

I think I want sequels less, but because sequels are better-defined it feels like I want them more.

17. When you introspect, how much and what do you see about how your thoughts form, and how reliable do you think that information is?

I get a fair amount of information, I think - I can usually figure out the chain of partial thoughts that led to a more fully-formed thought, but I think it's not always very reliable. I think I'm pretty good at tracing physiological causes for my mental and emotional states, which is a related skill I guess.

19. How much would you have to be paid to spend a week completely alone in The Woods and completely bereft of any belongings or trace of civilization? (you would be protected supernaturally from physical harm from hunger, thirst, and cold, but not discomfort)

Hard to pin down, probably at least $15,000. More if the protection does not extend to wild animals.

23. How much would you enjoy watching your life turned into a movie?

I have been told that some of the plot points are unrealistic. The rest would make a pretty boring movie, and I would like to keep it that way.

29. Rank {Oceans, Forests, Tundra, Deserts, Mountains, Prairies, Lakes} with whatever comparator you like.

Lakes, Oceans, Tundra, Deserts, Forests, Prairies, Mountains

31. Do you feel more fulfilled when you do something fun for its own sake or in the pursuit of something else?

I think in the pursuit of something else.

37. Abolish human-caused death, or disease-caused death?

Probably disease. It's a more predictable good, I'm concerned about wars (with nearly all the destruction and misery) becoming more common and violent if soldiers can't die, I don't want to end suicide, I don't like mind control - not in this context at least - In general abolishing human-caused death invites a lot of questions about implementation and what counts as human-caused whereas ending disease-caused death is much more straightforward and safer.

41. What would music look like if it were visible to you as music?

What does this even mean?

[shannrussell-blog1]

The call of the wild can be a strong one. For an adventurer like myself, it’s a feeling I choose to embrace rather than ignore. A quick text message to rally a travelling companion or two and a bag of groceries is all the preparation needed to answer that call and enjoy a weekend of exploration on the trails.

Being based in Brisbane, the vast choice of local destinations can make settling on just one a bit difficult. Time honoured traditions of beautifully scenic creek-side camping and seemingly endless touring trails can, at times, prove mutually exclusive but this is certainly far from the case at Landcruiser Mountain Park (LCMP).

There are over 200km of trails across the varying terrain in LCMP.

Where is it?

Landcruiser Mountain Park is a 10,000-acre property specialising in wilderness camping and four-wheel driving, approximately 150kms north of Brisbane via Kilcoy and Jimna.

Set amongst the many state forests that line the Great Dividing Range, this pocket of south-east Queensland is very diverse. It features heavily forested ridgelines that give way to creeks and waterfalls carved into natural rock formations over thousands of years.

As a working cattle property, the park is dotted with grassy creek-side clearings perfect for camping. Though you might have to share it for a moment with a passing herd.

LCMP was foremost a working cattle property.

The start of the adventure

We arrived around 9 am after a leisurely run up the highway. We then set about planning a solid day exploring a section we were yet to visit. From the office, you can immediately immerse yourself in four-wheel drive nirvana. For those happy enough to operate within their comfort zone, there are plenty of opportunities to loop many of the easier tracks together for a solid day of driving. For the more adventurous, you don’t have to look far for challenging ascents, descents, rock beds and mud.

You don’t have to look far to find a challenge.

Working your way along the ‘main drag’, the campsites present themselves one after the other. Each of them has their own unique features which will suit different types of campers. Our plan was to be a little more ‘carpe diem’ and roll out our swags when the timing and location seemed right..after all, home is where you park it!

Trakka is typical of the camping locations on offer at LCMP.

Setting off to explore

After airing the tyres down to 20psi to help with traction, occupant comfort and track preservation, we pointed the vehicles towards a sparsely vegetated ridgeline and set off. I caught some magical glimpses out of the passenger window of the distant ranges. These were a sign of things to come as we dropped down a tricky little section of track.

Having a trusted companion with a handheld UHF radio can be the best thing at various times. I can confidently say I usually travel with a couple of the best! Arrogance often breeds contempt, so don’t be embarrassed to call on the eyes of a spotter outside the vehicle to help with wheel placement if you need it.

We climbed out of the dry creekbed through a densely rainforested section of the park and then through the “Aussie bush”. We stopped at a small clearing around mountaintop dam, which was a great spot for lunch, and to plan for the afternoon ahead.

The benefits of a “spotter” can never be understated in tricky terrain.

Making our way to Cowah Falls

In making our way to Cowah Falls, we climbed higher through several terrain changes and “pinchy” sections of track. It then plateaued out in an amazing little pocket of native Australian grass trees (Xanthorrhoea). Several of the trees were in over 3m in height, indicating that they’re up to 300 years old, which is pretty amazing. These trees tend to photograph well and there are few sights that are more typically Australian.

Beautiful, ancient and hardy – Australian grass trees typify the local Australian bush.

What goes up must come down and after picking our way carefully through a loose, rocky descent we arrived at Cowah Falls. Although not running on this particular day the waterhole below was full and inviting on a warm afternoon. We sat in quiet admiration of the age-old rock formations and plant growth grasping the cliff face for dear life. Then we decided that it was time to make camp for the night.

The rock formation at Cowah Falls. 

We retraced our steps and arrived at a small grassy, creekside area that we chose earlier in the afternoon. It’s easy to limit yourself to a formal camping area especially when camping with a family. However, some of the best camping experiences around are away from the masses. We enjoyed a couple of refreshments over a hastily built fire which was the perfect end to a great day of adventure.

Cowah creek provides a nice place to rest before heading off again. 

What do you need to know?

Location

Landcruiser Mountain Park is located approximately 150kms from Brisbane. Take the D’Aguilar Highway west to Kilcoy before veering north to Jimna. From here just follow the signs.

Nearest Supplies

Fuel and groceries can be purchased at the nearby town of Kilcoy. The park office has limited supplies.

Views to the neighbouring ridges are on offer from several locations throughout the park.

Trip Standard

It’s blacktop all the way to Jimna where the road becomes a graded forestry trail all the way to the park. Within LCMP, tracks vary from easy to extreme. Be aware that changes in weather can turn an easy track dangerous in a matter of minutes.

Camping

Main camp areas located at Cowah Falls, Trakka Terrace, The Gums and Fig Tree. For the more adventurous, camping is permitted anywhere within the park boundary. Fees are $60 per vehicle per night which are inclusive of driving permits.

You can camp outside of the main campsites if you’re feeling more adventurous.

Facilities

Hot showers and septic toilets at the main campsites. You can collect firewood around the park. There is also compressed air and a payphone available for use at the park office.

Essentials

Drinking water, axe/chainsaw & basic recovery gear.

With great scenery and tracks all around, LCMP is a winner in my book. 

Why Landcruiser Mountain Park is a must visit

As an offroad adventure destination, Landcruiser Mountain Park ticks most of the usual boxes. It’s location, open spaces, basic amenities, abundant wildlife and campground accessibility to 2WD or soft road vehicles makes it suitable for families.

While the vast array of terrain, track types and difficulty levels should excite even the most ardent “been there, done that” types. If you are yet to visit Landcruiser Mountain Park, then you should definitely put it on your bucket list for 2018.

What’s your favourite local off-road destination? 

The post A 4WD Adventure at Landcruiser Mountain Park appeared first on Snowys Blog.

[kristablogs]

Essential bike maintenance tips everyone should know

If you're someone who just started cycling, you'll want to know how to keep your bike in tip-top shape. (Roman Koester/Unsplash/)

Even the most inexperienced cyclists know you can’t ride a bike with two flat tires, no brakes, a janky chain, and pieces that are a bump or two away from scattering across the pavement. If you’re not taking care of your ride, you risk disappointment and disaster every time you hop on the saddle.

Don’t worry if you’re not an expert mechanic—there are basic steps you can take before each trip that will ensure smooth cycling wherever you are. Not every component is high-maintenance—some parts only need attention after you’ve logged long miles. And at the end of every year with your trusty two-wheeler, it’s worth considering a checkup from a professional.

Before every ride

A quick check of key components (air, brakes, chain, and quick-release elements) can take less than a minute if everything’s in working order, and if something’s not up to snuff, you’ll thank yourself for catching it before you take a tumble on the road or trail.

Air

Somewhere on the side of each tire, along the rim, there should be numbers indicating the proper air pressure for your bike. Use a standalone air gauge or a tire pump with one built in to see if your inner tubes are properly inflated. If not, pump them up. “Flats are more prevalent when you have soft tires,” says Christopher Zane, founder of Zane’s Cycles in Branford, Connecticut. “If you keep your tires hard, you pretty much have no liability.” A lower chance of a flat means it’s less likely you’ll have to make the long walk home or call someone to pick you up.

Once the pressure is right and your air valve caps are back on, give your tires a squeeze. Really get a good feel for how much they compress under your pinchy little fingers. With experience, you’ll understand what the proper amount of air feels like and you won’t always have to use a gauge, according to Binky Brown, founder of Hard Knox Bikes in Oakland, California.

It’s generally fine to keep your inner tubes within 10 percent (over or under) of the numbers on your tires, but you do want to make sure they’re always within those parameters, Zane says. If your tire is over- or under-inflated, you risk punctures that can’t be easily fixed.

Too much air, and the tube can burst, ripping apart like a popped balloon. If there’s not enough, your bike may suffer a “snakebite”—two holes formed when the tube gets pinched between the rim and another object, like a curb.

This is also a good time to make sure your tires rotate correctly. Lift each one off the ground and give it a good spin. If it touches your brake pads or any other part of the bike, it’s not straight and you may need to take it to a mechanic. The problem could be something as simple as a broken spoke, or your whole wheel could be bent out of shape. Bike shops have dedicated devices to return rims to true.

Brakes

Now that your tires are ready to roll, check your brakes. Pull the levers as you normally would when stopping, and make sure they don’t touch the handlebars. If they do, your brakes aren’t tight enough and you won’t stop as quickly as you’d like.

Even if they seem to be in proper working order, you should still test each one individually, Brown says. She suggests activating the front brake while tilting your bike so the back wheel comes off the ground. Then, try to push it forward. If the brakes work, it shouldn’t move. Do the same test with the back brakes by lifting the front wheel up and trying to pull the bike backward.

Chain

Your bike won’t go anywhere if your chain doesn’t work (unless you’re only traveling downhill), so you’ll want to ensure it’s clean and moves smoothly as you rotate the pedals. As you do so, make sure the chain is properly lubricated and has some flexibility, Zane says. If it looks dry, it probably is, but you can touch it to be sure.

Bicycle chain lube is the best stuff for the job, because it’s built for it. Standard WD-40, while acceptable in a pinch, is too thin and light to work well for a long time, Zane says. If you’re unsure what kind of lube to buy, he recommends asking your local bike shop—they’ll usually sell you what works well for them. Other, more general lubricants, may also work.

Apply it to the chain, making sure it gets into the inner workings, then wipe it up. A good method is to hold a rag in your hand, close it around the chain, and move the pedals backward so the chain goes through the rag and any excess lubrication comes off, Zane says.

Don’t use too much, though, as doing so can make things worse by binding all the grease and dirt that accumulates as you ride, Brown warns.

Quick-release

You may have heard the air-brakes-chain pre-ride inspection referred to as remembering your “ABCs,” but Brown says she takes it one non-sequential letter further and encourages people to conduct an “ABCQ” check. The add-on refers to any quick-release parts your bike may have, such as axles or seat posts. These easy-to-turn levers don’t require a tool to tighten or loosen so you can make adjustments during a quick stop along the way.

If these pieces are loose, they can be a huge safety issue—imagine your wheel coming loose or your seat suddenly dropping as you ride. Before you leave, make sure all quick-release levers are pressed against the frame, and fix any that aren’t. If they’re loose, Brown suggests tightening the smaller, non-lever end to avoid over-tightening and to only use the lever to close the release.

As needed

As long as you’re consistently keeping an eye on your ABCQ factors before each ride, you shouldn’t need to tune up your bike more than once every six months, Brown says. But that doesn’t mean you should tune out while you ride. Pay attention to how your bike performs each time you take it out, and if something seems off, give it a closer look.

The more you ride, the more often you should check to ensure everything is in working order, and you should also learn how the trips you take affect your bike. If you’re going down hills a lot each day or stopping frequently in traffic, your brakes may wear out more quickly, and if you’re biking by the ocean, salt can take a toll, Brown says.

You should occasionally check for dings, cracks, and other structural damage, especially under the bike where debris from the road or trail hits it, Brown says. It’s also a good idea to give your ride a cloth wipe-down once in a while, completely clean it every few months if you use it often, and to check the tightness of every bolt when you can.

Check your seat height once in a while, too. It should stay where it is once it’s set, but you can test its location by sitting on the saddle and placing the ball of one foot on a pedal in the six-o’clock position. There should be a slight bend in your leg. If your seat’s too low, you’ll be working harder, Zane says.

If you’ve left your bike locked in public for a while, you should give it a quick once-over, paying special attention to the quick-release components, Brown says. Ideally, your bike should be exactly as you left it, but it’s possible someone else locked their bike up nearby and knocked something loose. Worse, your bike may be damaged or the victim of an attempted theft that has rendered it unsafe.

“I’ve had people come to my bike and try to steal it,” Brown says. “They couldn’t, but they didn’t put the parts back.”

Every year

Both Zane and Brown said riders should have a mechanic look at their bike annually. In a perfect world, you’d want to get a complete overhaul every year, Brown says. An overhaul is more than a basic tuneup, and when it’s done, your ride will feel completely different—more fresh. If you can’t afford that, regular tune ups are fine until you can completely fix individual problems, she says.

Zane also acknowledged that people may struggle to bring their bikes into the shop for regular maintenance. He said his company offers free service for the life of any bike a customer buys there, which encourages them to bring them in more frequently.

A full overhaul is, of course, something you could attempt on your own if you have the skills, but for most people, it’s much more worthwhile for a professional to do the job. “Somebody who understands the mechanics behind how things work can certainly assess the issues,” Zane says. “But we can do things in the shop that even somebody with that understanding might not be able to do perfectly.”

[scootoaster]

Essential bike maintenance tips everyone should know

If you're someone who just started cycling, you'll want to know how to keep your bike in tip-top shape. (Roman Koester/Unsplash/)

Even the most inexperienced cyclists know you can’t ride a bike with two flat tires, no brakes, a janky chain, and pieces that are a bump or two away from scattering across the pavement. If you’re not taking care of your ride, you risk disappointment and disaster every time you hop on the saddle.

Don’t worry if you’re not an expert mechanic—there are basic steps you can take before each trip that will ensure smooth cycling wherever you are. Not every component is high-maintenance—some parts only need attention after you’ve logged long miles. And at the end of every year with your trusty two-wheeler, it’s worth considering a checkup from a professional.

Before every ride

A quick check of key components (air, brakes, chain, and quick-release elements) can take less than a minute if everything’s in working order, and if something’s not up to snuff, you’ll thank yourself for catching it before you take a tumble on the road or trail.

Air

Somewhere on the side of each tire, along the rim, there should be numbers indicating the proper air pressure for your bike. Use a standalone air gauge or a tire pump with one built in to see if your inner tubes are properly inflated. If not, pump them up. “Flats are more prevalent when you have soft tires,” says Christopher Zane, founder of Zane’s Cycles in Branford, Connecticut. “If you keep your tires hard, you pretty much have no liability.” A lower chance of a flat means it’s less likely you’ll have to make the long walk home or call someone to pick you up.

Once the pressure is right and your air valve caps are back on, give your tires a squeeze. Really get a good feel for how much they compress under your pinchy little fingers. With experience, you’ll understand what the proper amount of air feels like and you won’t always have to use a gauge, according to Binky Brown, founder of Hard Knox Bikes in Oakland, California.

It’s generally fine to keep your inner tubes within 10 percent (over or under) of the numbers on your tires, but you do want to make sure they’re always within those parameters, Zane says. If your tire is over- or under-inflated, you risk punctures that can’t be easily fixed.

Too much air, and the tube can burst, ripping apart like a popped balloon. If there’s not enough, your bike may suffer a “snakebite”—two holes formed when the tube gets pinched between the rim and another object, like a curb.

This is also a good time to make sure your tires rotate correctly. Lift each one off the ground and give it a good spin. If it touches your brake pads or any other part of the bike, it’s not straight and you may need to take it to a mechanic. The problem could be something as simple as a broken spoke, or your whole wheel could be bent out of shape. Bike shops have dedicated devices to return rims to true.

Brakes

Now that your tires are ready to roll, check your brakes. Pull the levers as you normally would when stopping, and make sure they don’t touch the handlebars. If they do, your brakes aren’t tight enough and you won’t stop as quickly as you’d like.

Even if they seem to be in proper working order, you should still test each one individually, Brown says. She suggests activating the front brake while tilting your bike so the back wheel comes off the ground. Then, try to push it forward. If the brakes work, it shouldn’t move. Do the same test with the back brakes by lifting the front wheel up and trying to pull the bike backward.

Chain

Your bike won’t go anywhere if your chain doesn’t work (unless you’re only traveling downhill), so you’ll want to ensure it’s clean and moves smoothly as you rotate the pedals. As you do so, make sure the chain is properly lubricated and has some flexibility, Zane says. If it looks dry, it probably is, but you can touch it to be sure.

Bicycle chain lube is the best stuff for the job, because it’s built for it. Standard WD-40, while acceptable in a pinch, is too thin and light to work well for a long time, Zane says. If you’re unsure what kind of lube to buy, he recommends asking your local bike shop—they’ll usually sell you what works well for them. Other, more general lubricants, may also work.

Apply it to the chain, making sure it gets into the inner workings, then wipe it up. A good method is to hold a rag in your hand, close it around the chain, and move the pedals backward so the chain goes through the rag and any excess lubrication comes off, Zane says.

Don’t use too much, though, as doing so can make things worse by binding all the grease and dirt that accumulates as you ride, Brown warns.

Quick-release

You may have heard the air-brakes-chain pre-ride inspection referred to as remembering your “ABCs,” but Brown says she takes it one non-sequential letter further and encourages people to conduct an “ABCQ” check. The add-on refers to any quick-release parts your bike may have, such as axles or seat posts. These easy-to-turn levers don’t require a tool to tighten or loosen so you can make adjustments during a quick stop along the way.

If these pieces are loose, they can be a huge safety issue—imagine your wheel coming loose or your seat suddenly dropping as you ride. Before you leave, make sure all quick-release levers are pressed against the frame, and fix any that aren’t. If they’re loose, Brown suggests tightening the smaller, non-lever end to avoid over-tightening and to only use the lever to close the release.

As needed

As long as you’re consistently keeping an eye on your ABCQ factors before each ride, you shouldn’t need to tune up your bike more than once every six months, Brown says. But that doesn’t mean you should tune out while you ride. Pay attention to how your bike performs each time you take it out, and if something seems off, give it a closer look.

The more you ride, the more often you should check to ensure everything is in working order, and you should also learn how the trips you take affect your bike. If you’re going down hills a lot each day or stopping frequently in traffic, your brakes may wear out more quickly, and if you’re biking by the ocean, salt can take a toll, Brown says.

You should occasionally check for dings, cracks, and other structural damage, especially under the bike where debris from the road or trail hits it, Brown says. It’s also a good idea to give your ride a cloth wipe-down once in a while, completely clean it every few months if you use it often, and to check the tightness of every bolt when you can.

Check your seat height once in a while, too. It should stay where it is once it’s set, but you can test its location by sitting on the saddle and placing the ball of one foot on a pedal in the six-o’clock position. There should be a slight bend in your leg. If your seat’s too low, you’ll be working harder, Zane says.

If you’ve left your bike locked in public for a while, you should give it a quick once-over, paying special attention to the quick-release components, Brown says. Ideally, your bike should be exactly as you left it, but it’s possible someone else locked their bike up nearby and knocked something loose. Worse, your bike may be damaged or the victim of an attempted theft that has rendered it unsafe.

“I’ve had people come to my bike and try to steal it,” Brown says. “They couldn’t, but they didn’t put the parts back.”

Every year

Both Zane and Brown said riders should have a mechanic look at their bike annually. In a perfect world, you’d want to get a complete overhaul every year, Brown says. An overhaul is more than a basic tuneup, and when it’s done, your ride will feel completely different—more fresh. If you can’t afford that, regular tune ups are fine until you can completely fix individual problems, she says.

Zane also acknowledged that people may struggle to bring their bikes into the shop for regular maintenance. He said his company offers free service for the life of any bike a customer buys there, which encourages them to bring them in more frequently.

A full overhaul is, of course, something you could attempt on your own if you have the skills, but for most people, it’s much more worthwhile for a professional to do the job. “Somebody who understands the mechanics behind how things work can certainly assess the issues,” Zane says. “But we can do things in the shop that even somebody with that understanding might not be able to do perfectly.”

[dglace888-blog]

How you can Know If Your Underclothing Fits You Appropriately By Staying clear of These Tell-Tale Indications

Underclothing might appear like a rather uncomplicated thing, however comprehending the best ways to understand if your underclothing fits you is a bit more complicated compared to sticking your legs via the openings. For every single excellent pair of underwear I've purchased, there have actually been a lots pairs that on a regular basis aggravation my life. If you try to find these tricks to picking great-fitting underwears in both that you already possess, you'll be way more probable to select pairs that fit fantastic, really feel great, and look terrific the following time you go purchasing.

Now, please note: I do not mean to minimize the problem that is undergarments purchasing. It's typically a massive headache to locate your dimension, you're not allowed to try them on after you have actually ultimately found what you're trying to find, and also something regarding the expression "loosened underclothing container" just does not rest right with me. Due to the fact that I cannot try them on when looking for new underwear, I usually choose to buy my underclothing online. At the very least, I have the reviews, images, and size graphes to lead me. As soon as you understand your undergarments blunders of the past, it makes the entire experience that much simpler. Have a look at these warning indications that your undergarments just isn't really benefiting you, so you can lastly discover a set that does. When yeast infections are an usual thing, it's a dead giveaway that the product you're using isn't breathable sufficient. 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The call of the wild can be a strong one. For an adventurer like myself, it’s a feeling I choose to embrace rather than ignore. A quick text message to rally a travelling companion or two and a bag of groceries is all the preparation needed to answer that call and enjoy a weekend of exploration on the trails.

Being based in Brisbane, the vast choice of local destinations can make settling on just one a bit difficult. Time honoured traditions of beautifully scenic creek-side camping and seemingly endless touring trails can, at times, prove mutually exclusive but this is certainly far from the case at Landcruiser Mountain Park (LCMP).

There are over 200km of trails across the varying terrain in LCMP.

Where is it?

Landcruiser Mountain Park is a 10,000-acre property specialising in wilderness camping and four-wheel driving, approximately 150kms north of Brisbane via Kilcoy and Jimna.

Set amongst the many state forests that line the Great Dividing Range, this pocket of south-east Queensland is very diverse. It features heavily forested ridgelines that give way to creeks and waterfalls carved into natural rock formations over thousands of years.

As a working cattle property, the park is dotted with grassy creek-side clearings perfect for camping. Though you might have to share it for a moment with a passing herd.

LCMP was foremost a working cattle property.

The start of the adventure

We arrived around 9 am after a leisurely run up the highway. We then set about planning a solid day exploring a section we were yet to visit. From the office, you can immediately immerse yourself in four-wheel drive nirvana. For those happy enough to operate within their comfort zone, there are plenty of opportunities to loop many of the easier tracks together for a solid day of driving. For the more adventurous, you don’t have to look far for challenging ascents, descents, rock beds and mud.

You don’t have to look far to find a challenge.

Working your way along the ‘main drag’, the campsites present themselves one after the other. Each of them has their own unique features which will suit different types of campers. Our plan was to be a little more ‘carpe diem’ and roll out our swags when the timing and location seemed right..after all, home is where you park it!

Trakka is typical of the camping locations on offer at LCMP.

Setting off to explore

After airing the tyres down to 20psi to help with traction, occupant comfort and track preservation, we pointed the vehicles towards a sparsely vegetated ridgeline and set off. I caught some magical glimpses out of the passenger window of the distant ranges. These were a sign of things to come as we dropped down a tricky little section of track.

Having a trusted companion with a handheld UHF radio can be the best thing at various times. I can confidently say I usually travel with a couple of the best! Arrogance often breeds contempt, so don’t be embarrassed to call on the eyes of a spotter outside the vehicle to help with wheel placement if you need it.

We climbed out of the dry creekbed through a densely rainforested section of the park and then through the “Aussie bush”. We stopped at a small clearing around mountaintop dam, which was a great spot for lunch, and to plan for the afternoon ahead.

The benefits of a “spotter” can never be understated in tricky terrain.

Making our way to Cowah Falls

In making our way to Cowah Falls, we climbed higher through several terrain changes and “pinchy” sections of track. It then plateaued out in an amazing little pocket of native Australian grass trees (Xanthorrhoea). Several of the trees were in over 3m in height, indicating that they’re up to 300 years old, which is pretty amazing. These trees tend to photograph well and there are few sights that are more typically Australian.

Beautiful, ancient and hardy – Australian grass trees typify the local Australian bush.

What goes up must come down and after picking our way carefully through a loose, rocky descent we arrived at Cowah Falls. Although not running on this particular day the waterhole below was full and inviting on a warm afternoon. We sat in quiet admiration of the age-old rock formations and plant growth grasping the cliff face for dear life. Then we decided that it was time to make camp for the night.

The rock formation at Cowah Falls. 

We retraced our steps and arrived at a small grassy, creekside area that we chose earlier in the afternoon. It’s easy to limit yourself to a formal camping area especially when camping with a family. However, some of the best camping experiences around are away from the masses. We enjoyed a couple of refreshments over a hastily built fire which was the perfect end to a great day of adventure.

Cowah creek provides a nice place to rest before heading off again. 

What do you need to know?

Location

Landcruiser Mountain Park is located approximately 150kms from Brisbane. Take the D’Aguilar Highway west to Kilcoy before veering north to Jimna. From here just follow the signs.

Nearest Supplies

Fuel and groceries can be purchased at the nearby town of Kilcoy. The park office has limited supplies.

Views to the neighbouring ridges are on offer from several locations throughout the park.

Trip Standard

It’s blacktop all the way to Jimna where the road becomes a graded forestry trail all the way to the park. Within LCMP, tracks vary from easy to extreme. Be aware that changes in weather can turn an easy track dangerous in a matter of minutes.

Camping

Main camp areas located at Cowah Falls, Trakka Terrace, The Gums and Fig Tree. For the more adventurous, camping is permitted anywhere within the park boundary. Fees are $60 per vehicle per night which are inclusive of driving permits.

You can camp outside of the main campsites if you’re feeling more adventurous.

Facilities

Hot showers and septic toilets at the main campsites. You can collect firewood around the park. There is also compressed air and a payphone available for use at the park office.

Essentials

Drinking water, axe/chainsaw & basic recovery gear.

With great scenery and tracks all around, LCMP is a winner in my book. 

Why Landcruiser Mountain Park is a must visit

As an offroad adventure destination, Landcruiser Mountain Park ticks most of the usual boxes. It’s location, open spaces, basic amenities, abundant wildlife and campground accessibility to 2WD or soft road vehicles makes it suitable for families.

While the vast array of terrain, track types and difficulty levels should excite even the most ardent “been there, done that” types. If you are yet to visit Landcruiser Mountain Park, then you should definitely put it on your bucket list for 2018.

What’s your favourite local off-road destination? 

The post A 4WD Adventure at Landcruiser Mountain Park appeared first on Snowys Blog.