#i feel like that's the top of a velo tail

[theaceofgays]

Mx. & Mrs. Valiente

Fandom: Little Witch Academia | Pairing: Allyn (Allisandra/Edlyn)

Word Count: 2,007 | Read Time: ~10 Minutes

“Marry me...”

Edlyn was examining the browning spots on the leaves of an unhealthy betony hedge when Allisandra had broken their train of thought. The poor floral plant had reached the end of its life cycle, and Edlyn had been doing all they could to salvage it. “I’m sorry?”

“Marry me,” Allisandra repeated, arms crossed. She’d been standing over Edlyn for quite a while, waiting for Edlyn to drive their attention away from the plant before them. Seeing how that wasn’t happening any time soon, Allisandra took matters into her own hands.

“Allisandra, are you alright?” Edlyn had finally stopped preening the plant long enough to make eye contact, yet still searching for a cause of illness.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Then why the heck--”

“Edlyn, how long have we been friends?”

“Well- since Freshman year so... over seven years now?”

“And what have you learned about my family?”

“They’re... Wait- is this a money issue? Allisandra, you don’t have to marry me t-”

“This isn’t a money issue,” Allisandra huffed, almost surprised Edlyn hadn’t picked up on the reason. “My mother keeps asking the same questions she’s been asking me since I turned eighteen. ¿Cuándo vas a casarte, Allisandra? When is Papi going to walk you down the aisle? Te verías tan hermosa en un velo, can you imagine? I’m sick of it.”

Edlyn hadn’t been able to pick up everything Allisandra said, especially when she spoke so fluidly, but they understood enough of what she was implying. They stood, removing their gardening gloves, and placed a hand on Allisandra’s shoulder. “I understand that much. My mother can be the same way. We’re the only Valientes left and she’s worried about the family legacy. But what about yours? What’s changed now?”

“She wants me to start dating.”

Silence. Edlyn let that sink in, corners of their mouth sinking as well.

“She tried to hook me up with some men from my home town. I keep telling her no but she’s getting more and more insistant. I’m only in my 20′s, Mamá. ¡Tengo otros cien años!” Allisandra groaned and Edlyn’s frown deepened.

“Why me?”

“I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to marry.”

Edlyn’s face flushed up with that. And they stumbled to ask another question. “W-what about--”

“Seraphine has Adamina. Edlyn, it has to be you!  You’re my best friend, and there’s no one else who would be able to convince them to back off. Please,” Allisandra’s interruption seemed more desperate, pleading. “It has to be you...”

Edlyn took a deep breath. “Allisandra... I love you, I really do. You’re the belladonna of my nightshades, breathtaking in multiple senses. But we’re friends. I know neither of us cares about the whole romance thing but I don’t know if I want to take away that possibility from you if you’re not--mpfh...” Edlyn had been interrupted once again but this time by Allisandra’s lips on their own. 

“There. No sparks, nothing. Just like every other time I’ve kissed someone. I’m pretty sure. Now will you please marry me?”

‘Nothing, huh?’ Edlyn thought, touching their lips as if to check them in the absence of the slight tingling feeling that had shot through their nerves a moment before. ‘Must have imagined it....’

“Eddy?” Allisandra waved her hand in front of Edlyn’s face, bringing them down to earth once more.

Edlyn took in a deep breath, speaking through an exhale. “Where’s the ring?”

“That’s the last of them,” Allisandra said as she assisted Edlyn with the boxes she was carrying into Valiente manor. Their wedding was less than a few months away and by Edlyn’s own suggestion, Allisandra was moving in. 

“Can I get you two Lovebirds anything? Some water?” Laurel, Edlyn’s mother, asked as she turned a corner to see her child wheezing, sweaty palms pressed to their trousers as they bent over to breathe easier.

“I-I’m okay, Maman, merci beaucoup. Et toi, Alli?

“I’m fine,” Allisandra said, stretching her arms up, not that she really needed a break from the boxes. The hem of her shirt tugged up when she stretched, and Edlyn caught a view of her stomach and and the dips and curves of her muscles.

Edlyn had seen them many times, there was no need for sheepishness, and yet the faint pink in Edlyn’s cheek wasn’t entirely from being breathless. “W-why didn’t Adelmo help? He’s your familiar.”

“He’s lazy, you know this.” It was true. Adelmo had spent the past half hour sitting cross-legged chewing cud on the front lawn of the estate, flicking his tail every so often to show his mild enthusiasm for the new environment. Allisandra hadn’t minded all that much, especially since he had Zorro in his lap, who was all too exhausted from travel. “Besides, what do we need him for when you have me?”

“All too true, Love.” Edlyn beamed back, moving to kiss Allisandra’s cheek, a display of affection that had grown in appearance since the two had announced their engagement. It was almost customary every other moment a member of the opposite’s family was present. All the more to add to the façade.

“No, no, ¿Estás tonto? Aquí, aquí, stir the pot while I roll the potato. I want an even cook on that Chicken, Querida.” Isabella, Allisandra’s mother, had been teaching Edlyn how to make  stewed curanto or pulmay as they called it. Edlyn had never had such a complex ‘surf-n-turf’ dish before, and was surprised to find it to be one of Allisandra’s favorites.

“It’s an old family recipe,” said Maria, Allisandra’s grandmother, as she walked through the kitchen. “Make sure you layer the nalca evenly. You wouldn’t want the layers to touch.”

Through the kitchen window, Edlyn could see Allisandra talking with her younger siblings, which Eddy knew by name. Francisco was the oldest of the bunch at 21, which wasn’t much of a gap between the two of them considering the rest of Allisandra’s family was concerned. Then there was Ramone who was 18, and the twins, Daniella and Dante who were 11. Edlyn couldn’t have even begun to imagine the kind of strength it took for Isabella to raise the two of them alone, let alone all 9 of her children? It was understandable why Family had been so important to her. Allisandra had glanced at the window to catch Edlyn’s gaze with her own. She smiled and waved, a gesture reciprocated for far too long to go unnoticeable because Isabella was instantly shooing Edlyn away from the stew pot.

“Aye, you’re going to let it overcook if you’re not careful.” She warned, stirring in the vegetables. Edlyn’s apology left silence clinging to the air like spilt dye. “I know it’s hard to take your eyes off of her... She’s beautiful, No?”

“Allisandra?” Edlyn blinked, thrown off by the sudden discussion. They glanced out the window once more, watching Allisandra speak, despite being unable to hear her lips form the words themselves. She was laughing now, hands on her stomach, head thrown back to let her hair cascade over her shoulders. “Yeah,” Edlyn said, trying to return their attention to Isabella’s cooking techniques. “She sure is... Takes after her mother,” Edlyn quickly added, earning an elbow from Isabella.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mi hijo.”

Edlyn and Allisandra had attended two weddings prior to their own. The first being Gabija and Nina’s. Gabija had been all too eager to marry the moment that Nina graduated, having been two years ahead meant that the two years without Nina were long and slow and torturous and she couldn’t stand another second. The second wedding had been Yarrow and Amaterasu’s, the likes of which Edlyn felt more comfortable with, despite the Thompson family being somewhat rivals to Edlyn’s own.

Allisandra hadn’t been much for weddings. She thought that the copious amounts of money people poured into the ceremony were almost entirely unnecessary. As such, her and Edlyn’s wedding was going to be one of simplicity. She didn’t want a three layer cake, she didn’t want a fancy champagne waterfall, or a chocolate fondue fountain. She wanted it to be as quick and painless as possible.

And it was, Edlyn made sure of it. Their friends had sat on one side along with Edlyn’s mother and a few of Allisandra’s extended family that hadn’t fit on the adjacent side. There was a short reception after the initial ceremony, one that Allisandra’s mom was fine with, and of course when Allisandra had tossed her bouquet, Seraphine, the intended target, had been clocked in the face... lightly, of course. Allisandra and Edlyn made their way home afterwards with much enthusiasm for the break they would receive from social interaction and party protocol.

Edlyn was the first to plop on the bed, suit and all, sprawling out like a star fish that had been marooned.

Allisandra had followed shortly after changing out of her dress, grateful to be in the freedom of a tank top and boxer-shorts. She crawled onto the bed, hair down now, and caught Edlyn’s glazed over gaze for a moment, before she giggled at their situation. “Here, Cariño, let me help.” She was leaning over Edlyn now, removing the bowtie around their neck.

“Alli,” Edlyn blushed, embarrassed to have her undress them, but not uncomfortable. They’d assisted each other in changing plenty of times, and had even seen each other in the nude. But that was when they were more kid than adult.

“Shh, I don’t mind. We’re married aren’t we?” Allisandra smiled at Edlyn, like warm honey.

“Yeah, we are...” The thought sent Edlyn’s head swimming. They weren’t sure if they were imagining it or not. Had Allisandra always been this beautiful in moonlight?

It was when Allisandra had begun to unbutton Edlyn’s shirt that they snapped back into reality. Since they graduated Luna Nova, Edlyn had been treated by several doctors for their gender dysphoria. Allisandra hadn’t yet seen the scars. She wasn’t aware that there were any to begin with, and upon meeting  Edlyn’s bare, flat chest, she paused, as if studying a painting at an art exhibit.

Edlyn wasn’t sure if this was okay. They were comfortable with Allisandra seeing them, sure. But do best friends really drink in all of your features so easily? Even the ones as imperfect as scars?

“Eddy?” Allisandra’s voice broke the tension of still water and Edlyn raised their brows.

“Yeah?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Silence. Edlyn wasn’t sure what to say. Their heart was pounding in their chest and they could have sworn that in the darkness Allisandra could hear it.

“Allisandra?”

“Yes?”

“I love you...”

There was another pause, Allisandra smiled once more though Edlyn’s heart was screaming, beating against their ribs in a violent manner like it had been wrongly convicted. 

“I love you too...”

Silence once more, though Edlyn’s head was swimming. They leaned up as Allisandra leaned forward, and despite the fact that no one was watching they kissed because it felt like the right thing to do.

Allisandra watched the way Edlyn played with her younger siblings, leaning with her head against the doorframe to the house as the children all ran through the garden hose with enthusiasm. Isabella stood behind Allisandra, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You picked well, Mi hija.” She spoke softly. Allisandra turned to see, for the first time, the greys in her mother’s brown hair.

“¿Lo hice ahora?” Allisandra asked, quirking up a brow. “I picked because you wanted me to.”

“Oh?” Isabella raised her brows. Allisandra turned back to look at Edlyn who was showing the kids how to plant hierba del clavos in the garden for herbal treatments. The kids were taking great care not to damage the petals of the flower, following what Edlyn was saying to the letter. Isabella spoke again, “Well, I like them regardless.”

“Yeah?” Allisandra said, making eye contact with Edlyn through the garden mist. Edlyn was smiling, laughing, enjoying themselves, and when they met Allisandra’s gaze, they waved before returning their focus to the twins. “Yo también, Mamá, me too...”

[freevoidman]

④ DAY 4 (10/22): Alternate Universe ★ Fears/Insecurities

For some reason, daemon activity has been on the rise in Insomnia, despite the walls standing as strong as ever. The city’s falling into panic, and on top of all of that, there are completely new daemons that are fighting for dominance in the city. The only thing Lucian scientists can conclude is that they’re spawning from a similar area, given that all eye witness reports claimed to see a green hourglass symbol somewhere on their bodies.

Meanwhile, Prompto has a new accessory: a large, clunky watch that doesn’t tell time.

((Look y’all I have no idea where this AU came from but it’s my brain child and I love it and I might continue it after Prompto Week bc I am a self-indulgent piece of trash))

Ignis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked at the scene in front of him. “What number is this?”

“Nine. We’re nearly at double digits.” Gladio nudged him, holding out a can of Ebony. “I probably shouldn’t be feeding your addiction, but I think after this many early morning wake-up calls I might have to get a can for myself.”

Ignis took the drink and quickly opened it, taking a long gulp. He surveyed the ripped streets, the jagged crystals jutting out of the ground, the overturned cars and, of course, the daemon’s blood, only just beginning to evaporate in the early dawn light. “I doubt the cleanup will be anything but pleasant.”

“Sure won’t be like that green goop stuff from a couple weeks ago.” Gladio made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and slapped Ignis on the back. “C’mon. Cor’ll kill us if he sees us slacking.”

Ignis quickly downed the rest of his Ebony, surveyed where workers hadn’t started, and picked up a hammer and chisel.

It was time to get to work.

~*^*~

His homework (somewhat) completed, Prompto grabbed an energy drink from his fridge and took a few sips as he looked out the window. He put it down on the small table next to him, besides his camera, and examined the watch on his wrist.

Today would mark the beginning of week three since he found the stupid thing. It had been left in an alley, faintly glowing green, and he’d seen it on the walk back from his job. He’d gone to pick it up, like an idiot, and it had leapt from the ground, like an excited puppy, to clamp onto his wrist. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t come off, and he wasn’t about to cut off his arm to do so. More importantly, the stupid thing couldn’t even tell him the time!

And then he discovered what the watch could actually do.

He opened the window, peering at the street below. So far, no one was outside—which was expected with the mandated curfew given the rise in daemon activity and the mysterious creature killing them. Pulling back, he tapped the watch’s face, the green and black disc popping up into a cylinder. The green hourglass symbol shifted into a diamond, and a silhouette appeared in the center.

Prompto scoffed. “I am not becoming Antman again.” He twisted the face dial, the silhouette changing into different forms, one after another, each one being changed as Prompto considered them, only to move on. Finally, he nodded, and very lightly placed his hand on top of the dial. “Please don’t mess up, please don’t mess up, please don’t mess up…”

He pressed the dial down, and his apartment was filled with green light.

When it faded, Prompto was gone. In his place was a bipedal creature with sleek blue, black, and white scales. His body was lean, with a long, reptilian tail coming from his back. His feet ended with jet black spheres, and his fingers had fused into three claws. His head was angular, an x-shaped visor covering its eyes and mouth. With a hiss, the visor slid back, exposing narrowed sky-blue eyes. Prompto looked down at his body, examining the hourglass symbol badge on its chest.

“Alright, looks like I got the right one.” Prompto’s voice had become somewhat raspy and higher pitched, noticeably different from his normal tone. He carefully went back to the window, claws clicking against the windowsill. “Now the hard part.”

The creature backed away a few feet, sizing up the available gap, before darting forward faster than any human could. At the last possible second, it leaped, diving through the gap and tucking and rolling before hitting the ground. Not wasting a second, the creature took off down the street, the air around it rippling and buffeting the buildings.

Prompto grinned beneath his visor, darting down the streets and weaving around, performing a few tricks as he went. Velos was always a fun form to take, mainly due to the fact that the high speed and traction allowed him to run laps around Insomnia, if he wanted.

However, tonight, he wanted to be Velos because of the increased security. Last night’s patrol had left a sizable amount of damage to the streets, as Terra was bound to do. Turns out he could create more, similarly colored and shaped rocks so long as he had contact with the earth!

He winced as he darted past the torn up road and stabbed buildings that he’d hit dealing with a bunch of Arachnes. He did feel guilty about it, but he couldn’t really do much about it now, not without creating more, unintentional damage as a result.

Moving on, he dashed into the northern neighborhoods, keeping as close an eye as he could on the smaller gaps between the apartment complexes. Satisfied with the lack of any daemonic activities, he moved southwest, making a very complex, maze-like path around the city.

Tonight he’d simply do a short patrol. The watch would change him back sooner rather than later, but he should have enough time to do a quick sweep through. The Kingsglaive were probably actively patrolling, because of him or the daemons or both he didn’t know, but it would certainly make the rest of Insomnia feel better.

Western neighborhoods secure, Prompto moved to the southern end of the city, then to the east once he was satisfied at the lack of any daemons. Deciding to vary his path a slight amount, Prompto found a lowered fire escape ladder and took the stairs at a much slower, much more annoying pace. Velos was the fastest thing alive so long as he wasn’t going up a ladder and trying to keep quiet enough to not wake up anyone staying in the apartments.

Reaching the roof, Prompto sighed and looked over the barely-tall-enough skyline. So far, the night had been pretty easy going and, frankly, he was surprised! Typically he’d run into at least one nasty daemon encounter or another before retiring for the night. Maybe they’d finally screwed off and given him a break.

A distant scream came from far down the street, almost far away enough that Prompto barely heard it.

He sighed. Never could get an easy night, huh?

Racing across the rooftops, Prompto headed towards the scream, paying attention to the roads below. He slowed considerably when he couldn’t hear or see any daemon activity, and stopped completely on top of Nouveau Records, a store he frequented for movies and music. As far as he could see, there weren’t any daemons, so what—

“Keep his mouth covered! Do you want to have the Crownsguard finding out about this?” Prompto paused, then walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. Beneath him were four people dressed in all black wearing ski masks, keeping their identities a secret. One was standing guard at the entrance of the alley. A second was hanging back further in the alley, a gun in hand. The third and fourth were working in tandem, with one pinning their victim against the brick wall and the other looking through his bag.

Now this was a bit more uncommon. With the curfew in effect, as well as the known increase of daemon activity and patrolling guards, there hadn’t been a lot of robberies or just… crime in general. Insomnia had become safer with Prompto running as a monster, in a weird, paradoxical way.

Still, he wasn’t opposed to stopping a robbery. With a smirk, Prompto ran down the side of the building, rapidly circling the one hanging back and creating a small tornado before darting towards the one holding the victim to the wall. He slammed into him, throwing him into the guard and knocking both of them to the sidewalk.

The fourth robber yelled, and Prompto just had enough time to turn and see the glint of silver before his clawed hand stabbed into the robber’s arm. He let out a scream, holding the wound and dropping the switchblade he’d intended to use. Hearing the screams of the first man he attacked getting louder, he picked up Mister Switchblade and threw him into his buddy before he could hit the ground, both of them flying back into the alley.

“What the fuck is that thing!” Shouted one of the robbers currently outside the alley. Not wanting them to escape scot-free, Prompto grabbed both of them and threw them back into the alley into their friends. As a last hurrah, he grabbed the cell phones from their pockets, keeping the only flip phone (thank the Gods for that) before grabbing a dumpster and blocking them in, cutting the wheels from the bottom with the spheres at the end of his feet.

Satisfied with his vigilantism, Prompto opened the flip phone and dialed the emergency hotline, tapping his foot in impatience when he wasn’t immediately answered. “Hello this is Insomnian Emergency Hotline, how many I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I’d like to report a robbery at…” He dashed to the street, narrowing his eyes at the street sign. “The corner of seventy-sixth street and Lexington. They’re in the alley between Nouveau Records and Lectio’s Books, behind a dumpster.”

“A… dumpster, sir?”

“Yep, at the back of the alley. Thank you!” Flipping the phone closed, he tossed it into the street, uncaring if it broke or was run over. Darting back into the alley, Prompto picked up the bag and any discarded money or somewhat-clean items and put it in the bag, turning to the guy still pressed against the wall. “Here you… go…”

Noctis’ wide, terrified eyes stared back at him, the grip on his short sword trembling as the awkward silence settled between them.

[ohiovelo1-blog]

Kalamazoo Michigan, one of their State Series Criteriums

I first want to congratulate all that raced down in Indy and I'm glad that everyone came home safely.  I decided to head north to Kalamazoo Michigan to race one of their State Series Criteriums.  My reason was that the daily race schedule was more conducive to my upcoming long road racing goal.  The Michigan crit allowed me to race the P, 1, 2 as the first race and immediately after that race the 45+ event.  The schedule then allowed me to race 35-44 race with only one race between.  In essence, I created a long road race..."Tour de Card".

The course was a 1.1 mile circuit around the College of Engineering at Western Michigan University.  A pretty open smooth road with a 90 degree turn after the start and another 90 degree turn with about 300 meters up an overpass to the finish.  All in all, a good course to ride since I was about to complete approximately 80 laps under pace totaling 80 some odd miles.

The P, 1, 2 race went well as I was in two failed breaks throughout the 65 minute race and still just missed out on the podium with a 4th place result in the field sprint.  Although a little down to not get on the boxes, I still managed to race actively, show the "colors" and feel pretty good.  I grabbed a bottle and immediately headed to the line for "Round 2" in the Tour de Card.

The Master's 45+ race was strange in the pace seemed very "pedestrian".  Having not raced in Michigan in a couple of years left me at a slight disadvantage in that I didn't know many of the racers.  A duo got away about mid race and began to extend their lead to over 30 seconds.  I tried a couple of times to break away from the field in an attempt to bridge to the lead two, but with the pace being slow to chase prior to my attacks, allowed many "fresh" legs to chase me down without countering to bridge the gap themselves.  After two failed attempts I decided to "save my bullets" for the final race of the day and "tail gun" the rest of this race confident that we would be sprinting for 3rd.  With two laps remaining I moved into the top 5 and "surfed the front" with a plan to come out of the final turn second wheel.  The plan worked like a charm and I came around my lead out to take 3rd place honors and the final step on the podium.  There was a 40 minute gap between the 45+ and 35-44 race so I grabbed more drink and food prior to head out on the road to continue riding between events.

As I stood on the line for "round 3" and the final race of the day, I must admit to feeling pretty "flat".  Based on this I planned to "sit in" as best that I could and hope to come around some time during the race.  The first 10-15 minutes were as expected and I did feel terrible.  As the intensity of the race picked up I actually started feeling better.  As I picked up so did the wind which made for a more tactical race.  Attacks would happen on the tailwind stretches, but the head wind would nullify any opportunity to make gains on the field.  At this point I figured that the race would field sprint.  I had noticed that many of the riders were racing their second race of the day so were less likely to continue breakaway attempts.

As we hurtled through the start/finish line into what I believed to be the bell lap a few riders hit turn 1 too hot and my race almost ended with an abrupt halt.  I counted my blessings and moved into the lead 5 knowing I would go for the 1st or 2nd spots out of the final turn.  The benefit of doing 80+ laps was that I had the final corner down and knew the places to be to possibly take the win.  I hit out into the final turn to exit first and threw all that I had at the line striving for the win.  As I crossed the line raising my arms I see my wife holding up her index finger and yelling something.  At that time I heard the announcer saying "one to go, one to go, one to go".  Apparently my wife wasn't signaling "your #1", but maybe you're a #1 idiot who can't count or bother to look at the lap counter.

I think that it goes without saying that at this time I had about 1 second to make some very hard decisions.

Should I pull to the     side of the road and puke.  This seemed very appropriate at the time.

Should I try to get back     in the field now moving at what appeared to be break neck speed as I was     sitting up coasting about 15 mph slower than they.  Didn't seem like     the correct choice.

Should I ride my final     lap beginning my cool down.  Again, not a bad idea.

I know, so many choices and so little time.

Maybe it was having the entire family on hand.  Maybe it was the honor of wearing the OhioVelo/Team Riverpoint kit.  Or maybe I'm just a stubborn SOB that doesn't know when to say when.  Most likely all of the above.  I dove back into the tail end of the group without a plan in place.  I had about a mile to figure something out.

As I started my "cross eyed" pursuit to the front, I told myself that if I could get back to the top five to seven riders that I may have a chance so save "face".  It took almost the entire mile, but I managed to move the wheel that was 5th.  I tucked low and figured that if I dove inside line and didn't crash, that I might have a very slight chance to pull something off.  When 2nd wheel launched wide outside, I launched into the dangerous inside line and hoped for the best.  As I exited upright (whew!) and cross eyed, I sprinted for what was left in my old, mis-counting a_s.  I gave all that I had, but it wasn't enough.  3rd place was all that I could obtain.  Needless to say the final podium spot wasn't in my previous sprint lap plan.  But in a weird way, I feel that this 3rd place was earned even more based on my stupidity.

I would like to say that this is the first time that I've miscounted the final lap, but unfortunately I had done so once prior in my 25+ years of racing.  I know a once per decade or so isn't the best record, but maybe it shows that I continue to be human (or that Dimentia has set in).  I do want to apologize to you all for making the mistake as I do feel that I had a good chance of garnering that top podium spot.  And I do know that result would have benefited Ohio Velo/Team Riverpoint.  And yes, I also know "woulda, coulda, shoulda" does apply.  My only solace is that I sprinted for the win, dropped to the back and still was a bike length or so from the win again.  I do promise that I'll try to push this mistake out for at least 20 or so odd years in the future.

Again, sorry that I didn't have my comrades at my side this past weekend, but it does appear that Ohio Velo/Team Riverpoint represented and took all comers down in Indy.  Special "shout out" to Jim for "killing it" in the 50+ race and if I've missed any other podium results, I apologize and great job to you as well.

PS.  I better come back and race with the team so you can ensure that I count the laps correctly during the races.

Jon

[esthermeronobaro]

I <3 SLC: Beautiful Godzilla Out

Beautiful Godzilla is a column about my feminist bicycle adventures for SLUG Magazine. Published monthly in print from 2011-2014. Read the original online and in print on page 21.

Hey guys, this is my last Beautiful Godzilla column. I’m moving to New York City to dedicate my life to pizza.  

I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to write here, in this space, for the very last time—something smart and meaningful and funny, of course, but all I could think about was how much I’m gonna miss this city.  

So, those of you who claim your home elsewhere (even if you only lived in California for six months back when you were two years old), pick up a trusty ole beater from the Bicycle Collective, sign up for some volunteer hours while you’re there, and let me lead you through a verbal tour of Salt Lake City as a precursor to your next bike adventure. The next time someone asks you where you’re from, I hope you’ll jump up and down screaming “SLC!” after proving you’re not hiding a Mormon demon tail.  

Everybody’s Salt Lake is a little different, waxing and waning as you meet new people, get a good tip on a restaurant you’ve never been to, or fall asleep on TRAX one day and end up adopted by juggalos. 

Mine runs the square area between 2100 South to about 4th Ave (too lazy to ride up that hill any farther), 900 West to 900 East (ditto). The mountains sure are pretty to look at, but there’s fucking snow up there, you crazy bastards! 

I felt like an outsider for a long time in this town—not ’cause I had anywhere else to call home, but because I felt a disconnect with my surroundings, especially living in the bubble that is university life (one in every four college students has an STD, FYI). That all changed the first time I hopped on a road bike (I did get saddle sores, though …). Cycling makes a city feel like it belongs to you, like you know and understand it in a way that maybe you didn’t before. I’m sure that there are other things that can contribute to a true sense of residence, like fireworks and an inbred pioneer heritage, but there’s nothing like the bicycle—the perfect machine.  

Salt Lake City became mine the first Midnight Mass I ever attended, about six years ago in the middle of a dry winter day. We rode all the way out to Sugar House, bombing hills on our way back as I gripped the handlebars in silent terror, thinking I was sure to fly over them if I were to hit the smallest scar in the asphalt. 

Chris Ginzton practiced his Spanish on me the whole ride, and as the adrenaline numbed my fear, I thought, “This is beautiful.” Or maybe it was, “He is beautiful … ” 

As I attended more and more events, I felt my confidence grow, and not just in my cycling abilities. Critical Mass, as chaotic as it seemed at times, provided an outlet for the peaceful protester inside of me that I had been too scared to express before then, because you know that prison bitches would go apeshit over my butt—just ask my lil’ lesbo sis, Carla, who shares my “jeans” and is practically rolling in vaginas. I always looked forward to riding through the Gateway, a tall bike at my side, Zed’s boombox spitting cheesy ’90s rap, and bike bells ringing like a hundred wind chimes in a maddening gust as pedestrians gawked at us and cars honked impatiently. Those days, rides would often end at the top of the Walker Center as the sun set, with anyone we hadn’t dropped off at a bar passing around flasks of wine and whiskey, taking turns testing out the freak bikes among us. The view alone—an eyeful of historic buildings and dirty alleyways juxtaposed with contemporary architecture and modern street art, tinged by this city’s many Instagram-worthy sunsets—makes you feel like you’re doing something right.  

Then there was the afternoon I came face to face—or perhaps frame to door—with my mortality. It was one of those days when the air hits your face like ice water, but the sun’s so bright it reaches under your skin to warm you from the inside out—the only appropriate outfit for that weather is one of those fluorescent green, full-body suits. Had I been wearing mine that day, perhaps things would’ve turned out a little different, but I was conveniently wearing a helmet, otherwise this column would just be a slobber smear. I hit the ground hard on my back, facing a car whose door was cracked wide open, gasping for breath as pedestrians rushed to my side. I’ve always been a careful cyclist—though perhaps a bit insane riding two years without brakes—but always aware of my surroundings, and that experience shook me even more than when I found out Santa was my parents, and they were broke. Riding hasn’t been the same since, and sometimes my back seizes up, but that motherfucker had to replace his entire windshield, and the spooked look on his face makes me believe he’ll be glancing at his side-view mirror before he gets out of his car for the rest of his life.  

I’m excited and nervous about riding in NYC. I think my FBG status will go over well with the cabbies, but I’ve heard the pedestrians are a nightmare—a plague of pede-philes, so to speak. 

Still, when it comes to cycling, this city will always be home, whether I see it again or not—whether, at the end of my life, I’ve spent more years in other places that aren’t here. The bicycle community here has raised me into adulthood, supported me and helped me turn a life that would’ve felt like I was holding my breath for eternity into one where I breathe real deep and make that “refreshed” sound as I breathe out. So annoying. 

I’ll be cruisin’ with Bike Snob soon, and won’t be around to push you down the hill, but there are plenty of fine people in this community who can help you out. In addition to the obvious, the adventurous James Miska is out to start Salt Lake Bicycle Tours, with the mission to show residents and visitors around this city and its magical spots. “My inspiration for it came from having consistently biked around this town for the past nine years, always going to cool places, and wanting to show those cool places to cool people,” he says. Hit him up over at saltlakebicycletours.com. 

The SLCo Bicycle Ambassadors Program is another relatively new way to stick your toe into cycling, providing one-on-one mentorships that are like commuter training wheels, and you can find them at facebook.com/slcobike. Jack Lasley, the BA’s Program Coordinator, summed it all up real nice, saying: 

“When you ride a bike, you fully inhabit the city. Everything becomes familiar as you begin to notice the details... 

You might avoid the same daily pothole as you did in your car, but on your bike, you notice that it has a yellow lighter inside and you have time to wonder how it got there. You learn that certain blocks have distinct smells and sounds. That every street and intersection feels differently. You start to navigate by names and faces, rather than by numbers and distance. You begin to develop rewarding relationships with strangers, even though most only last seconds or minutes. You have time to wave and smile as you pass another bicyclist or have a quick chat as you both wait at the traffic light. You start to feel like you have friends you haven’t even met yet.”  

Come send me off in style on May 17, celebrating Velo City Bags’ grand reopening with the Clue Cat IV, some Blue Copper coffee, live music and the world premiere of Salty Spokes’ Bad Girls. See details at facebook.com/velocitybags.slc. It’s been real. #FBG4LYFE