#surprisingly the rest of the green and yellow stuff matches better than expected

[vangoggles]

my pockages... have arrived

haven't gotten new clothes in ages but i just got a little bit of money, so i bought some accessories to go with the clothes i bought like five years ago... lol

need to try on stuff like pants and jackets in person

[the--sad--hatter]

Mischief, Meet Your Match - Chapter Fourteen (Loki x Reader)

WARNINGS: Violence, Swearing, Smut, Loki

SUMMARY:

Being caught in the cross hairs of The God of Mischief would scare a saner person but not you, you enjoy it. There’s just something about Loki that draws you to him, and you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. Tricking the Trickster is exhilarating but you quickly find yourself becoming attached to him as you’re unwillingly dragged on the adventure of a lifetime.

While The Avengers race to get you out of Loki’s clutches, you find yourself teaming up with him to try and defeat an enemy who threatens everything you hold dear.

When you’re tangled up with the God of Chaos, there’s no way of winning and it’s anyone’s guess which you’ll lose first, your heart or your life?

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen -  Outfitted For War

When one woke up with god of mischief hovering over them, a dagger in his hand, the sensible response wasn’t to yawn at him and lazily swipe his hand away.

 “Good morning Kitten.” He purred, teasing the skin under your ear with the tip of the blade.

 “Morning Mischief.” You sighed sleepily.

 There was a tugging motion on your scalp and Loki moved away from you, standing up.

“Did you just cut my hair?” You frowned.

 He held up a lock of your hair between his fingers and you grimaced.

“Why?” You asked in confusion, patting your head.

 Your fingers found a thin braid pleated into your hair, behind your ear and you pulled at it, studying the plait.

 “I’m sorry, is this some kind of Asgardian version of a friendship bracelet? Why have you braided a lock of your hair into mine?” You chuckled.

 “So I do not lose you.” He shrugged, dumping a tray of breakfast foods onto your lap while you sat up.

 You just looked at him until he graced you with a better explanation.

 “It is to ensure that I can locate you, no matter where you might end up. I will not be able to stay by your side on Asylum, this ensures I can find you again.” He elaborated.

 “Fair enough.” You shrugged.

 You were trying to act nonchalant about it but there was something strangely intimate about what he had done, in a primal way and it was making your heart pitter patter in your chest. You toyed with the braid while you picked up the goblet of coffee with the other hand and sipped happily at it.

 “Eat it all, you will need your strength.” He ordered in a tone that brokered no argument.

 You picked up a slice of toasted yellow bread and made a big show out of biting into it which seemed to satisfy him.

 “From what I was able to find out, Glahn-Betn not only still resides on Asylum but the army has grown considerably. We are running short on time to stop him.” He dictated.

 Guess you weren’t even allowed to finish eating before you moved into the pre-mission briefing. At least he had given you breakfast in bed, that was thoughtful.

 “Good thing we’re going now then.” You said once you swallowed a mouthful of fruit.

 “Tell me again what you must do.” He said tightly.

 That was when you realized it. Loki was nervous. Considering he wasn’t the one walking into danger, that meant he was nervous for you. You played along with him, trying to soothe his nerves by being as brisk and serious as you could be.

 “I need to fight for a place within the army and continue to impress them so I move up the ranks and swiftly. I need to be skilled enough to draw attention but not so much that Glahn-Betn will see me as a potential threat. Once I am high enough up in the ranks I start watching his movements and patterns until I find an opportunity to strike. Then I kill him and run as fast as I can.” You summarised.

 “You will need to lie about who you are, do not let them suspect you are from ‘Earth’. Show no signs of weakness or mercy, do not question your orders. Be a good soldier, obedient and loyal.”

 “Be strong but not too strong, be obedient but not mindless, be noticed but blend in. Be a walking contradiction, I’ve got it.” You assured.

 “Most importantly, be careful Kitten.” He reminded you.

 “Stop fretting mother hen. I know what to do, I’m prepared and I know the price if I fail.” You said, finishing off the last bite of food and washing it down with a swig of coffee.

 “Did you say goodbye?” He asked, nodding towards the door.

 “Yeah, you missed a hell of a party.” You sniggered.

 You had told Elder you were departing the next morning and the villagers had all come together to send you off. It had been a night of dancing around the flickering flames of a bonfire, hand in hand with the children you’d come to adore. You’d dutifully kneeled in the dirt and allowed people to say prayers to their gods on your behalf, your heart bursting with fondness and your eyes burning at the thoughtful gesture. You had drank cup after cup of amber liquor, proving to them that you had an inhuman tolerance for alcohol. You had laughed until your chest ached and danced until your head spun.

 At some point during the festivities you had been pulled into the blue grass with Elder, the sage old man clasping his hands with your own and offering you a departing piece of wisdom.

 “I don’t know what it is you are setting off to do but I can tell it weighs heavy on you Sky lady. It is clear you and your husband are warriors of a kind and knowing your heart as I do, I know whatever your cause, it is a righteous one. I wish you luck.”

 “Thank you.” You said softly, squeezing his hands.

 “We will miss you, you fit in well with us in a way few visitors have.” He mused kindly.

 “Maybe… Maybe I’ll return one day.” You said wistfully, hopefully.

 “You won’t. Your heart does not belong on this small corner of the universe, it belongs elsewhere. But I can see it is torn. You are stuck between who you are, who you want to be and who you think you should be.” He warned you.

 Were you an Avenger or an assassin? A hero or an anti-hero? Or were you something else entirely? Were you Captain America’s daughter or the God of Mischiefs friend and could you find a way to be both?

 “What do I do?” You asked, pleading with him to help you figure it out.

 “There is no easy answer. Perhaps you think I will tell you that you should be true to yourself, but that is such an easy answer and yet the most difficult thing to do. You must live Sky lady, live your life and make your choices as you go. Let love and loyalty guide you and never stay stagnant between two choices.” He advised.

 “I told you to rest.” Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

 “I did. Will you stop fussing and let me go wash up?” You laughed, clambering out of the bed and breezing past him, towards the bathroom.

 “Do not tarry, we leave as soon as you are ready.” He shouted through the door as you kicked it shut.

 You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it and pulled doff your tunic, turning the taps on.

 It was sweet in a way you didn’t think he would be sweet. But if even Loki was worried about you, how screwed were you?

 As you bathed you pondered the coming mission and tried to stuff your nerves into a box in your mind, locking them away as best you could.

 You felt like something was missing, like you were forgetting something, but you knew what it was. A patented Captain America pep talk, with added Stark sass peppered throughout. You’d never gone on a mission without one. You’d never ever done this alone.

 It didn’t feel right, not having Bucky hovering over you and checking all your weapons were properly loaded and holstered. You wanted Sam to come and double check you were hydrated and sneak chocolate bars into your pocket. You needed Clint to offer you a fistbump and a wink. You missed Wanda squeezing your hand, seeking assurance and offering it at the same time. You needed Nat to throw extra ammo at you and assess you with a discerning look before she gave a confident nod, telling you that you were ready. You even missed Tony blatantly complimenting how well the suit fit you while he side-eyed a seething Steve.

 You missed your family. You needed them.

 “You’re a grown ass superhero, you don’t need you daddy to come and tell you how to do this.” You hissed angrily, pulling yourself out of the water.

 You dried and dressed as quickly as you could, metaphorically beating your doubts into submission.

 Before you opened the door you took one last deep breath and readied yourself.

 “You can do this.” You vowed to yourself.

“I wish I had my Avengers suit with me. I feel stupid going off the warn in jeans and a t-shirt.” You grumbled as you walked back into the room.

 “I thought you might.” Loki said, tossing something at you.

 It was a long black coat, made of tough but smooth leather. It wasn’t quite Midgardian style, but it wasn’t quite Asgardian either. You looked up at him in surprise and he nodded towards the bed where the rest of the ‘outfit’ was lain out. There were a pair of tight leggings made of a similar material to you Avengers suit, a solid but breathable material, a leather corset with a surprisingly modest and high necklined undershirt and a pair of knee-high leather combat boots.

 You turned around to ask him where he’d gotten this and more importantly, to thank him but he was gone. Probably giving you privacy to change into it, so that’s what you did.

 No offence to Tony and his eye for design, but you felt infinitely more bad-ass and put together in this than in the skin tight combat suit he’d provided. The material of this outfit was tight, but not uncomfortably so and there was a lot of give in it, allowing for ease of movement. There was a holster along your spine that held Mischief securely and you found that it was incredibly easy to reach behind your head and pull it out or slide it back in. Slipping the heavy coat on you found that it didn’t hinder your movements either. You were dressed as a warrior but you didn’t outwardly appear to be so.

 You were outfitted like an assassin.

 You had to hand it to Loki, he’d done good. You might have expected him to dress you in green but he’d opted for all black, except for one very important detail. There was a flap of material over your torso that when peeled back revealed a fabric insignia sewn in. Unless they knew to look for it, nobody would find it. The emblem of Captain America’s Shield contrasted well against the black leather and in the centre, where the star usually resided, was the Avengers A. He’d had the foresight and kindness to make sure you had a symbol of home pressed to your heart. He’d probably had to swallow a lot of pride and distaste to do it as well.

 You strode out of the hut with a newfound confidence, your shoulder thrown back and your head held high. Loki looked up as soon as you walked through the doors and for a moment he froze.

 “How do I look?” You asked, holding your arms out.

 “Like someone to be feared.” He said with weight.

 He stepped forward and pulled open you coat, sliding an array of his own daggers into the attached sheaths.

 “Thank you, for all of it, but especially for this.” You whispered, tapping your chest where the secret insignia was.

 “They would be proud, if they knew the truth about all this. They would be proud of all you have done and all you will yet do.” He said dismissively.

 You hoped he was right.

 “After all, you made an ally of one of their greatest foes. Without bloodshed, without fighting, you have defeated me.” He added with a sassy smirk.

 “Are you defeated, Mischief?”

 “Without a doubt.” He said without hesitation.  

 He gently tugged your coat closed and looked down at you, his face startlingly close to yours while his arm slid around your waist for a heartbeat, you thought he was going to lean in kiss you but your hope was shattered when you saw the Tesseract in his hand and the ground disappeared from beneath your feet as the blinding blue light filled your vision.

 As soon as it cleared you were visually assaulted by a bevy of colours and a sycophancy of loud noises.

 “Ah, my eyes!” You winced, shielding them.

 Loki dragged you somewhere while you held your hand over your eyes and you didn’t dare look until your back met a wall. You opened them to see you were in some kind of small alcove down an alleyway and unable to resist, you peered out onto the street again.

 “What Fresh hell is this?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

 “This is Asylum.” Loki said stiffly.

 “Then why does it look like… well, the 80’s?” You asked.

 It looked like a Bizzaro version of Earth, all neon signs and fluorescent colours and more diverse than even The Distillers Planet had been in terms of different aliens you could see walking down the street. It looked like what you imagined the inside of Elton John’s brain looked like but with a fuckton more aliens, a murky yellow sky and…

 “Is that building made of bones?”

 It definitely was, and now that you were looking you could see it wasn’t the only one. Apparently Asylum was where the Stone Age hooked up with the 80’s for an acid-fuelled apocalypse party. After the peace and serenity of Clarius, it was a shock to your system.

 Loki tightly grabbed your elbow and tugged you around the corner again.

 “Follow this street until you see the recruitment base, you won’t miss it.” He said, refusing to meet your eyes.

 “Ok.”

 “Remember what you have to do Kitten. You’ll need to battle another recruit to gain a place in the army, from there you need to impress them enough to work your way up the ranks until you find yourself close to Glahn-Betn. I won’t be able to help you or advise you. You’ll have to use your own judgement.”

 “Fate of the universe depends on me using my brain… We’re all doomed.” You joked.

 “No we aren’t.” He snapped.

 Apparently he wasn’t in a joking mood.

 “I know what to do Mischief. I’ve got this.” You said with as much bravado as you could muster.

 You knew the plan, you knew what was required of you, all that was left was to see if you could pull it off. You took a step backwards, towards the alleyway and lighting fast, he grabbed you, pulling you back into the alcove and his hand closed around your wrist. You wanted to get on with it, to walk into the lions den before your nerve failed you. But in an ironic twist of events, Loki was the one in need of comfort and reassurance.

 “I’ll be alright Mischief. I’ve got this.” You promised, twisting your wrist out of his grasp and sliding your fingertips along his arm softly, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

 He exhaled forcefully and nodded stiffly at you.

 “I’ll be close by, as close as I can be without risking running into anyone who may know me but I will be disguised. Do not remove your braid for any reason, promise me.” He demanded.

 “I promise.” You said firmly.

 “If you do… our connection will be lost. I will have no choice but to assume you are dead.” He warned.

 And he’d flee Asylum was what was left unsaid at the end of that sentence.

 You bit your tongue. His eyes were flashing dangerously, almost overflowing with emotion and you knew that he wasn’t refusing because he wouldn’t do it, he was refusing because he didn’t want to entertain the idea of you failing.

 “See you on the other side. When the chaos starts, we meet back here.” You said with a note of finality, stepping away from him.

 Your heart was clenching painfully and the steady, overpowering thrum of your nerves were making you dizzy. A few more steps and you would be separated from him and even if you succeeded in your assassination there was a high chance you weren’t going to survive. This was likely a suicide mission, which meant that unless you were very lucky, this may be the last time you ever saw Loki. He had your goodbye letters for your family but you hadn’t said goodbye to him. You hadn’t said what needed to be said.

 Three words. Just three little words. You could say them and then leave with a clear conscience. You wouldn’t even have to wait around to find out if he would say them back, you didn’t need to take that chance. You could tell him what you so desperately wanted him to know.

 I know you could never love me back, I know that you don’t need the affirmation from a mortal but I love you. I love you so much it’s consuming me.

 “Mischief I…” You began.

 “Don’t.” He interrupted, snapping out the word angrily.

 “You will not say farewell to me Kitten, do not dare. Leave me as if you intend to return to me.” He demanded.

 He lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against yours and let out a shuddering breath.

 “Return to me.” He said, a plead and not a demand this time.

 For the first time you felt something like hope building inside you. His torn apart emotional state was so out of character for him that it was making you wonder, was all this fear and concern really just for a friends safety? Or was it possible he felt something more for you?

 “I will always return to you Mischief. Nothing could keep me away.” You swore.

 His grip on you tightened almost painfully before it gradually loosened and he stepped back. You nodded once, more to yourself than him and made to walk away.

 “Aren’t you forgetting something Kitten?” He asked.

 He looked at you blankly, his expression giving no hint as to what he was alluding to but somehow you just knew what he was asking for and it made you smile.

 Balancing on your tiptoes you reached towards him and the corners of his lips twitched as he leant down for you. At the last second you moved your head and the kiss you’d been about to place on his cheek landed purposefully on the corner of his mouth instead.

 “I’ll see you soon Mischief.” You breathed into his skin.

 You stepped away, walking backwards so you could hold his gaze. His eyes were dark with emotion as he stared after you, slack-jawed at your actions and with one last wave, you left the alleyway, stepping onto the street and you couldn’t see him anymore.

 You exhaled forcefully, your emotions spilling from you in a gust of breath as you turned around and started walking.

 The last time you’d been alone you had still been a regular human, wandering the world without a cause, living town to town. Now you were a superhero, with a family, with so much love in your heart that you could barely contain it. This was your first solo mission, the first time you didn’t have Bucky watching you through the scope of a rifle or Sam flying overhead. You didn’t have Steve stood beside you, shield in hand. You didn’t have Loki or his tricks keeping you safe.

 You were alone again, but this time you were on an Alien planet with the fate of billions resting on your shoulders. But you weren’t alone, not really. You had Loki in the shadows and The Avengers in your heart and unconsciously touching the braid in your hair, you realized you’d never felt stronger.

 You kept your eyes ahead, not wanting to look like an obvious tourist but even still, there was a lot to look at. While shopping wasn’t on the agenda, it was hard to resist peering into the stores you passed. Half of them looked like mystical apothecaries, and you were convinced you’d just walked past a blacksmith’s but there were a lot of strangely modern looking stores as well. You did a double take at what for all intents and purposes could essentially have been a Hot Topic, the alien edition.

There were Taverns and chic bars, a nightclub that you were itching to see the interior of, café’s and restaurants.

 It was a mind-bending blend of several Earth era’s and distinctly alien. When Loki had told you the whole planet was an Asylum like it had been named, you’d expected a neat, clinical, cold, militaristic atmosphere. This was the polar opposite and despite how jarring it was, it was kind of awesome in a Las Vegas way.  

 Not all of it nice. Not all of it was fantastical and wonderful. You steadfastly ignored everyone trying to engage with you but you were fairly certain that you knew exactly what was being offered when a thin, seven foot tall, green humanoid sidled up to you and asked…

 “Need a fix, you look like a being that needs a little fix.? I didn’t take mine, wanna make a deal?”

 You’d sidestepped him and kept walking but it left a chill in your blood. If this was an Asylum, a hospital, then where were the attendants? The Nurses? The Doctors? Who was looking after these people?

 Now that your attention had been drawn to it, you could see it everywhere. These creatures were sick. Blanks stares, nervous ticks, frenzied pacing, wailing and crying, agitated aggression… You could see people exhibiting signs everywhere you looked.  Once again you felt a surge of anger for Glahn-Betn. This planet was supposed to be a refuge for these people, a safe place. He had taken that from them, he had brought chaos to a planet that really couldn’t handle it.

 You quickened your pace. The sooner you got to the recruitment base, the sooner you could get on with your mission and carve that bastards chest open, just to see if he had a heart.

 Like Loki had promised, you couldn’t miss the base. You reached the end of the long street and there was a crossroads. Ahead, more of what lay behind you, to the right, the same. But to the left, down a winding hill, there was a fortress.

 At first glance you thought it was just a black mountain but your eyes adjusted and you could see it was man made, a collection of spires and towers carved from shiny black rock and surrounded by a moat. If this was an Asylum planet, that must be the maximum security ward. Before Glahn-Betn it must have housed the criminally insane and now it housed… the criminally insane. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach it, your heart picking up it’s pace as you drew closer and slipped into the crowds of people heading in the same direction.

 You had just stepped onto the black stone bridge over the moat when the sky rumbled above you and you looked up to see a humungous spacecraft descending towards the fortress.

 “Look, more conquests. Hope we get to fight one of the captives. Doubt they have much fight left in them.” An alien behind you sniggered.

 As the craft slowed down it’s flight and neatly hovered behind the fortress, landing behind it, you tried to decipher what the alien had just said.

 Conquests and captives. Glahn-Betn was waging war and forcing prisoners to fight for him. How many planets had already fallen to this tyrant? Why was nobody doing anything?

 You’d thought this was a madman attempting a sinister plot but it went far deeper than that. This was already full scale intergalactic terrorism. Even if you killed Glahn-Betn and put a stop to his plans, he had already done so much damage that couldn’t be undone. Not for the first time you started to think that you were in way over your head. How could you, one woman, bring down an entire regime?

 Because nobody would expect one woman to be stupid enough to try.

 And this wasn’t your plan, it was Loki’s. Even if you were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t doubt him. You had the blood of the greatest soldier of all time in your veins. You had been trained by literal gods, infamous assassins and the greatest minds your world had to offer.

 So you squared your shoulders, put on your metaphorical big girl panties and walked through the wide doors into the base.  

 The cavernous hall was bustling with activity. It was teeming with crowds of hopeful recruits, nervous recruits and guards. Ignoring them all you strode purposefully to the far side of the hall, to the lines of recruits being admitted through the doors into the heart of the fortress.

 You chose a longish line so you had time to study the admittance procedure. There were dozens of platforms raised slightly off the ground that were surrounded by a shimmering golden sphere, a force field of sorts. Every platform was manned by two guards apiece and, tall, statuesque, intimidating blue aliens with futuristic monitors in their hands. One by one the recruits stepped onto the platforms and had a short conversation with what you’d guessed were the recruitment officers. The platform you were in line for was manned by a beautiful blue woman with a stiff posture and eye catching black splotches on her skin.

 As you got closer you could hear what she was saying and as you watched carefully, a man who could easily have been human stepped onto the platform.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?” She asked robotically.

 The man looked around desperately, his jaw clenched. The woman leaned forward with a hard gaze, as if she was finally interested.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?” She asked again, harshly.

 “Reconnaissance for the Nova Corps.” He spat out, looking terrified when he realized what he’d said.

 He made a run for it but he didn’t even get one step away before he was shot, his body thumping to the ground. Someone grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of the sphere while the woman ignored it, looking at the next recruit in line who stepped into the sphere without care.

 You subtly studied the sphere and put the pieces together in your mind. It was some kind of truth field, it must be. Which meant that nobody could lie when they joined the army, you couldn’t lie.

 Shit.

 You ground your teeth as the line moved forwards, mentally trying to solve this puzzle before you were called into the sphere. All to soon, you were at the front of the line and as a hulking creature was waved to the other side, having passed the recruitment questions, you had no choice but to calmly step onto the platform. The field caused no sensation as you walked through it and if you couldn’t see it, you wouldn’t have known it was there. The woman looked at you with cold disinterest as you stepped up in front of her.

 “Why do you want to join the Commander of War’s mighty army?”

 “I’m here to work my way up the ranks of the army, to prove myself, so I can make my father proud.” You said smoothly.

 “Name?”

 “They call me Kit.” You said.

 Well it was true, some people did on occasion call you Kit.

 “What planet are you from?”

 “Clarius.”

 You had just come from there.

 “Race?”

 “I’m the result of an experiment.” You said quickly, thinking fast on your feet and stretching the truth as far as you could without breaking it.

 She didn’t blanche, just swiped something on the monitor.

 “Give me your wrist.” She said, holding her hand out impatiently.

 She snapped a black band onto your wrist and after a moment it flickered orange.

 “We do not provide weapons to recruits, if you did not bring your own, tough.”

 “I brought my own.” You assured her.

 “Through the doors, find the corridor that corresponds to your band. If you observe any rituals or pray to any deities or gods then do so now, you’ll be dead by the end of the day.” She said dismissively.

 You’d just stepped outside of the truth field but at her words you stopped and stepped backwards, back into the sphere.

 “No, I won’t.” You said confidently, looking her in the eye.

 You walked away, allowing yourself a quick triumphant grin. You’d done it, you were in. Now the hard part began.  

A/N - I know the last chapter was a bit of a filler chapter that was there to point the plot in the right direction but I hope this makes up for it and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

We're in the thick of it now, Kitten's got some trying times ahead of her. Wish her luck! (And wish me good luck in writing it!)

P.S - I think I’ll be stopping the gifs at the beginning of each chapter from here on in and maybe I’ll make a mood-board to use instead. Or maybe I’ll use gifs that relate to the chapter and aren’t always Loki ones. Or maybe just stick with what I’m doing right now. Thoughts??

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[coldflasher]

Femslash Week Day 7 - Unexpected/alternate meeting

Pairing: Nora West-Allen/Jesse Wells

Rating: Teen (Fade-to-black sex scene)

TW: mentions of sex

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066806

Can’t Outrun Love by coldflasher

“Maybe you should introduce yourself,” said Nora as they circled one another.

“You first,” the other speedster said.

“They call me XS,” said Nora, and went for a super-speed roundhouse kick.

Her form was perfect, and the speed-force sang in her system as she swung – but the stranger caught her ankle before the kick could connect, holding Nora’s outstretched leg in place. Shocked by her audacity, Nora stared and tried to pull her leg free, but the other woman had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Nice to meet you, XS,” the woman said. “I’m Jesse Quick.”

An unfamiliar speedster shows up at S.T.A.R Labs, and Nora’s keen to prove she can take her down. When it comes to Jesse Quick, she might’ve got more than she bargained for.

Nora was playing on a Gameboy in the staff lounge when the alarm went off.

Her mom had brought it to her earlier in the afternoon. It was a slow day with no bad guys or rogue metas on the loose, and Nora was bored, doing endless laps of the speed-lab just to kill time. Her dad was at the CCPD catching up on paperwork; after one too many attempts to explain how archaic the precinct’s systems were compared to how they were in the future, which had culminated in her trying to give her dad’s computer an upgrade and almost blowing it up, Nora had been banned from ‘helping’ for the foreseeable future. So not shway.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” Iris had called as she entered the lab. “You wanna slow down for a sec?”

“I’m bored,” Nora whined as she skidded to a stop in front of her, making her mom’s hair fly crazily like she was caught in a gale. “What on earth is it you do around here when there’s no bad guys to fight?”

“It’s called working,” Iris said mildly. “It’s how we keep a roof over your head.” But she didn’t look mad. “Come on,” she said. “I have something to show you.”

An offer like this usually meant good things, so Nora eagerly bounced over to the desk and perched on it, swinging her legs. She knew it was kind of lame to get so excited over looking at old photo albums and flicking through her parents’ yearbook, but there was so much stuff in those things that hadn’t made it to the Flash museum. After years of family history being walled off, a little thing like a photo of her dad hanging out in the cortex in the Flash suit still hadn’t lost its novelty.

What Iris produced, though, wasn’t a photo or a piece of high school memorabilia. It was a weird plastic square. Nora took it and turned it back and forth, before discovering that it opened up to reveal a tiny screen.

“It’s called a Gameboy,” Iris told her. “One of the OG handheld games consoles. It belonged to your dad. We used to fight to the death over this when we were kids.”

“Shway,” Nora breathed, pressing buttons until the screen lit up, bathing her face in light. “It’s so old. It’s like something from the stone age.”

“Ouch,” said Iris, but she was grinning.

“Sorry,” said Nora. “But you have to admit the graphics are terrible.” She looked down at the shapeless blob of pixels that was supposed to be her avatar and shook her head in amazement.

“Oh, for sure. Even in 2019 it’s a little dated. Still fun, though. It might give you something to do around here; you don’t want to tire yourself out by running around all day. If there’s an emergency, you might need your speed.” Iris nudged her. “And between you and me, if you can beat your dad’s high score then you have to promise me you’ll rub it in his face. I never managed to beat him and he’s never let me forget it.”

“Challenge accepted,” said Nora, already mashing buttons.

She was lying on her back on one of the sofas in the lounge, trying to manoeuvre the little Mario-blob across a maze of green pipes, when the familiar sound of alarms made her jump out of her skin. Immediately forgetting the console, she sat bolt upright and put her finger to her ear to activate the comms unit. Wearing it 24/7 was overkill, she knew that – but it made her feel close to the rest of the team, hearing their voices in her ear whenever she needed them.

“Guys, what’s happening?”

“We’ve got some unexpected activity in the breach room,” said Cisco. “But –”

“I’m on it,” said Nora, sprinting downstairs.

She flew through the corridors, stopping for just long enough to grab her suit and throw it on – no bad guys were catching her unmasked – before skidding into the room where the breach pulsed and flickered in the centre, its blue going brighter.

“Okay guys, what am I looking at?”

There was a crackle in the comms, but nothing clear. Frowning, Nora tapped her earpiece, but there was only static.

“Guys?”

The breach yawned like the maw of a gigantic beast. Nora threw her arm up to protect her face, and then a figure leapt out of the maelstrom and landed lightly in the centre of the room. It was a young woman around her age, wearing a red and yellow suit with a mask over her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

Nora didn’t waste a second. When it came to masked intruders, her policy was ‘punch first, ask questions later’ – and with that in mind, she launched herself at the stranger, lightning crackling all over her body as she drew her arm back in preparation to punch.

When she tapped into the speed force, Nora was used to everything around her moving as slow as glass, their motions almost imperceptible. She wasn’t expecting the woman to turn her head and look at her at a perfectly normal speed, like Nora was an interesting specimen under a microscope.

The stranger’s hand came up, catching Nora’s fist in hers and stopping it mid-swing.

Frozen with shock, Nora stared at her. Her lightning flared, and an answering yellow blaze illuminated the other speedster, crackling in her eyes.

“Who are you?” Nora demanded.

“I could ask you the same question,” the speedster said, and swung a punch with her free hand.

Nora intercepted it in time, but only just. They broke apart and she backed off to a safe distance, wary all of a sudden. She’d never fought another speedster before, though she’d known it was a possibility – there were so many of them. Casting her mind back, she tried to remember what her dad had told her about battling someone whose abilities matched hers. Without her natural advantage, it would be like fighting with a hand tied behind her back, and although she’d taken her turn with a punch-bag and taken some self-defence classes gifted to her by Papa Joe on one long-ago birthday, she wasn’t awesome at fighting. Her speed was what gave her an edge.

“I’m surprised to see another speedster around here,” the stranger said, circling Nora with a toss of her head that made her pony-tail fly. “Guess I shouldn’t be. It seems like there’s a new one every year.”

“Bad news for you,” Nora said. “That means we know how to beat them.”

A grin broke out on the other speedster’s face. “Well, you’re welcome to try.”

That smile did distracting things to her, and she didn’t like it. Now would be a really awesome time to turn off the switch. Knowing her family history of flirting with villains – her mom still liked to tease her dad about his crush on Captain Cold, which he denied with a blush – she supposed it made sense that she’d be attracted to overconfidence and evilness in equal measure, but right now she needed to focus.

She flew at the other speedster and tried to jab her in the ribs. The other woman dodged and aimed a punch to the face that Nora ducked. Crap, she’s fast. As soon as the thought had occurred to her, Nora rolled her eyes at herself. Duh.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, most of which didn’t land. They were pretty evenly matched, which did good things for her ego. Her plan was to wrap the woman’s pretty brown hair around her fist and yank, knowing that her own shorter hair protected her from a similar attack – that was half of why she’d cut it off – but she couldn’t get close enough to get a good grip.

They both backed off, sizing each other up again. Nora found that despite her instincts, she was enjoying herself more than she’d like to admit – and judging by the way the look on the other woman’s face, she wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe you should introduce yourself,” said Nora as they circled one another.

“You first.”

“They call me XS,” said Nora, and went for a super-speed roundhouse kick.

Her form was perfect, and the speed-force sang in her system as she swung – but the stranger caught her ankle before the kick could connect, holding Nora’s outstretched leg in place. Shocked by her audacity, Nora stared and tried to pull her leg free, but the other woman had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Nice to meet you, XS,” the woman said. “I’m Jesse Quick.” And she yanked Nora off her feet.

Nora went down hard with a yelp of shock, landing on her ass. For a moment she lay there staring at the ceiling with the breath knocked out of her, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Then a face appeared overhead. Jesse Quick was standing over her with a self-satisfied expression.

Nora was going to wipe that smug look off her face. Lightning crackling, she prepared to launch herself at Jesse –

“Nora, stop!”

Barry leapt between them, arms outspread as if to hold them back from one another. Nora’s heart crashed into her ribcage. He wasn’t wearing the Flash suit.

“Dad, your mask –”

“I’m sorry, did you just say Dad?” Jesse demanded.

“Stand down,” Barry told Nora. “We know her, okay?”

“We do?” said Nora.

Slowly, she picked herself up off the floor. She was sore from the beatdown in more ways than one. With her dad still standing between them, she took a second to get a proper look at Jesse Quick in her red and yellow suit – form-fitted, as all their suits were, for better aerodynamics. Compact, but softer than all the male speedsters Nora had encountered, a body more like her own. Still lithe from all the running, but with curved edges.

Removing her mask, Jesse looked at her with bright, interested eyes. Nora’s stomach gave a lurch. Uh-oh, said a voice in the back of her head. Jesse was cute.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Jesse said, eyes fixed on Barry.

“Yep,” he said, lowering his hands. “It looks like I do.”

 The explaining took time. Understandably. It wasn’t exactly a normal situation. She hadn’t really considered what a weird story it was until she’d listened to her dad trying to explain it, with Iris cutting in at regular intervals whenever he left out anything important – but given that she already knew all the details, she wasn’t really listening. There was something a lot more interesting that had caught her attention.

Nora found her gaze kept wandering back to Jesse. The curve of her spine as she leaned against the desk, the way the light caught her hair as she tucked it behind her ear, the sparkle in her eye. It was the first time she’d gotten close to another speedster who wasn’t family, and she was trying to commit all of her to memory, like a fascinating science project or a new Flash story she hadn’t heard.

Jesse looked up and caught her staring. Feeling her cheeks warm, Nora gave her a sheepish smile before looking down at her feet. Jesse’s look lingered, and when Nora looked up again the other woman was still watching her. Seeing she had Nora’s attention, Jesse looked up and down Nora’s body in a clear once-over before her lips curved and she looked away again, returning her attention to whatever Barry was talking about. Nora turned her head and hid her smile in the collar of her jacket.

She’d thought she was being subtle, but apparently not so much. Iris caught her eye and raised her eyebrows encouragingly. Nora shook her head and looked away, but Iris coughed and flicked her eyes at Jesse again. Her meaning was clear: talk to her!

Nora rolled her eyes. Mom!

Iris gave her another look.

If she didn’t do something soon, there was a real danger that her mom might try and do it for her. The only thing more embarrassing than her ridiculous crush was the idea of her parents trying to matchmake on her behalf, so Nora cleared her throat and took things into her own hands.

“So, Jesse… do you guys have Big Belly Burger on your Earth?” she asked casually.

“We sure do. It’s one of my main food groups.”

“Me too! Do you want to head down there and grab lunch? I’m really craving their fries.”

“Sounds awesome,” Jesse said.

“Great idea, I’m starving,” said Barry.

“Uh,” said Nora.

“Babe,” Iris said.

“What?”

“I think Nora and Jesse need a little girl time.”

“Girl time?”

She gave him a meaningful look that slid off him like water off a duck’s back. For a few seconds they stood having one of their wordless conversations, Iris raising her eyebrows progressively higher while Barry continued to look bewildered. Eventually, Iris nodded at Nora and then at Jesse and gave Barry her most meaningful look yet, and finally things clicked.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Girl time. Got it. I mean, we wouldn’t wanna cramp your style or whatever…”

He gave actual finger guns, and for the first time in her life, Nora experienced what it was like to be embarrassed by her father. She resisted the urge to hide her face.

“Did you just say ‘cramp our style?’” Jesse said incredulously.

“He’s trying to do the Dad thing,” Iris said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll get him out of your hair.”

Ignoring Barry’s protests, she steered him out of the cortex, giving Nora a wink on the way out.

“Well that was super weird,” Jesse said.

“Yeah,” Nora said, putting her hands in her pockets. “I should probably mention that I’m sorry for trying to kick your ass and all. I kind of thought you were evil, so…”

Jesse shrugged. “That’s okay. Better to be cautious, right? And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for actually kicking your ass.”

“You caught me off-guard,” Nora acknowledged. “But I could totally take you.”

“That’s fighting talk.”

“You bet it is.” She paused and ruefully massaged her shoulder. “But we might have to take a rain check on the rematch. I’m still a little sore from the first round.”

“Aww,” Jesse said playfully. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Fireworks went off in Nora’s head. YES! Her gay brain yelled – but common sense quickly reined it in. There was a pretty good chance Barry and Iris might still be lurking around the corner listening in and the last thing she needed was for her parents to catch her making out with a sexy speedster lady in the middle of the cortex.

“Maybe later,” she said.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Jesse rolled her neck. “Come on; it’s Big Belly Burger time. I’ll race you.

Without warning, she rocketed down the corridor like a bullet from a starting pistol, leaving the air tingling with static and the afterimage of lightning flickering in her wake.

“Hey!” yelled Nora as she flew after her.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to running with other speedsters by now, but she’d known for a while now that her dad was going easy on her. It made sense that he’d be faster; he’d been running longer, training harder, had years of experience she didn’t – but they both pretended she was almost a match. Jesse Quick, however, had no qualms about showing her just how outclassed she was. It was refreshing to run with someone who wasn’t scared to show they were out of her league.

Jesse turned to glance over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. Laughing, she piled on the speed and left Nora in the dust.

Grinning, Nora pushed herself harder. There was no way she was catching up, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to try.

 Big Belly Burger was a good call. It was cheerful enough that she could pretend they weren’t on a kind-of-date, loud and bustling and full of chatter so that her heart stopped buzzing speedster-style and her stomach actually stopped doing backflips for long enough to let her eat. Jesse ate her fries one at a time, waving each one around as she talked like she was conducting a miniature orchestra and dipping it in her milkshake before she ate it. Nora, who had been ridiculed her whole life for thinking fries and vanilla shake was a good combination, was kind of obsessed with her. There was this energy she gave off, a kind of effortless confidence that Nora felt like she’d spent her whole life chasing. After discovering her speed she’d unlocked a side of herself she’d never known was there, but she felt as though it had come with an extra helping of uncertainty. All of a sudden she had become unknowable, with a new set of abilities she barely knew what to do with and, until recently, a mentor who could only teach her by proxy from within the walls of a cell. She felt like a teenager again, trying to figure out everything all at once – her speed, her weird new family dynamic, her relationship with the father she’d never known who was only a few years older than she was. Jesse looked like she had it all figured out, and Nora found herself once again with the quandary all queer girls faced: did she want to be Jesse, or be with Jesse?

Both, her brain supplied helpfully. Both is good.

“So you were born a speedster? Not made?” Jesse shook her head. “That’s so crazy. I can’t imagine growing up like this. You must have been a real handful.” She dipped a fry in her milkshake. “You must have had all these years to develop your speed. Look at what your dad’s like and he’s only been like this for what, five years? I can’t even imagine what kind of crazy shit you can do.”

“I wasn’t born with speed, actually,” Nora said shyly. “I mean I was, kind of – but I couldn’t access it. I didn’t know I was a speedster until recently. I’m still getting used to my powers.”

“That makes sense. It’s a pretty big adjustment.”

“That’s an understatement. …You’ve been doing this for a while, right?”

“Couple of years.” Jesse stirred her milkshake a couple of times before popping the lid off and drinking the last of it, her head tipped back.

“Do you ever get used to it?”

Jesse considered this for a moment. “Kind of. I mean you get used to being fast; your speed becomes a part of you, so it’s hard not to – I think you just get used to things being weird. When I think about it too hard, nothing in my life makes sense. I mean, look at me. I’m sat eating Big Belly Burger in a parallel universe. We don’t even have this milkshake flavour on my Earth – which is an absolute tragedy, because it’s amazing.” She shook her head at the polystyrene cup. “I spent months living in a different universe. After a while it became my new normal – but I still missed home.”

“Yeah,” Nora said. “I get that. I’m from the future and everything here is so different. I love being with my parents – meeting my dad, finally having a good relationship with my mom… when I’m from, we don’t get on so well.” She sighed. “But I do miss home sometimes. I think the worst part is that I can’t talk about it. If I ever try to talk about the place I’m from, everyone around me covers their ears in case it screws up the timeline or whatever.”

“You can talk to me,” Jesse offered. When Nora looked dubious, she said, “Not my Earth, not my future, remember? I won’t tell the fam. No spoilers.”

Nora’s instinct was to decline. But she wanted to talk about it, she realised – the life she’d met behind. The mom who was a stranger compared to the one she had now; the technology she’d taken for granted until she lost it; the museum she’d walked through as a kid and later learned was filled with family history; her college experience and her childhood friends and Lia, who she still missed in a part of her heart that had crystallized, turned sharp and jagged as a geode because she wasn’t allowed to talk about her any more.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

 The Big Belly Burger employees had to kick them out at closing time.

As two speedsters, they could both put away crazy amounts of food, so it wasn’t like they hadn’t eaten enough to justify the length of their stay – but Nora was still shocked when she realised the restaurant was empty and the staff were starting to mop the floors. The hours had melted away while she and Jesse sat talking, and night had fallen outside.

Jesse had a lot of stories about Barry and as usual Nora drank them in like she’d finally found an oasis in the middle of a dessert, even the ones she’d already heard – the fresh perspective made them new again, like brushing the dust off old heirlooms and finding the shine underneath. But they’d also talked about where they were from, their lives before the speed, setting the universe to rights. A few hours in, Nora had been hit with a realisation: Jesse got it. She hadn’t realised how desperate she was for someone to understand until she’d found someone who did.

“That was fun,” Jesse said as they reached Joe’s front door. Nora was staying with Papa Joe and Mama Cecile to save her back from the sofas in the staff lounge – they were great for napping on, but not so much for long-term sleeping arrangements.

“Yeah, it was,” Nora agreed.

They stood lingering on the doorstep, the knowledge of what was about to happen making the air tingle between them.

“So,” Jesse said, stepping closer and lowering her voice. She laced her fingers with Nora’s and her thumb danced lightly over Nora’s knuckles, the touch setting her skin on fire all the way up her arm. “I think I owe you a kiss.”

“Maybe more than one,” Nora said breathlessly. “You kicked my ass pretty hard.”

“I can work with that,” said Jesse, and she leaned in.

There was a spark as their lips met, static flaring between them. Startled, they both leapt back. Jesse looked so surprised that Nora couldn’t help giggling – and to her relief, Jesse started laughing along with her. Her hand cupped the back of Nora’s neck as she leaned in and kissed her, and Nora reached up to slip her fingers into Jesse’s hair.

They swayed on the doorstep, the kiss never breaking. There was a bump as Nora’s back pressed into the front door, but she barely felt it. All she was aware of was the warmth of Jesse’s body aligned perfectly with hers, her thigh slotted between Nora’s legs. The kiss had started off gentle but before long it became more urgent, and when they finally broke apart with bright eyes, they were both breathless.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come inside?” Nora asked.

“Well,” said Jesse. “If you’re offering.”

Grinning, Nora took her hand and pulled her forwards, and they both phased through the front door and flitted up the stairs silent as ghosts.

The bedroom door closed behind them and they stood in the middle of Nora’s borrowed bedroom, kissing over and over. When Jesse pulled her shirt over her head and it hit the floor, Nora stood and stared for a solid thirty seconds. She was wearing a white bra covered in purple flowers, with a small diamante nestling between her breasts and lacy straps pressed against her shoulders. The colour of the flowers stood out against her creamy skin.

“Is everything okay?” Jesse asked, uncertain for the first time.

“This is probably kind of weird,” said Nora, “but first of all, I love your bra, and just so you’re aware, my underwear is nowhere near as cute as yours.”

“Well,” Jesse said. “Good thing I’ll be taking it off.” Then she pushed Nora back onto the bed.

A little squeak of surprise left Nora’s mouth as she hit the mattress, but Jesse was already on top of her, straddling her as she kissed her, the silk of her underwear soft against Nora’s fingers as she ran her hands down Jesse’s spine and then settled on her waist.

“Have you ever slept with a speedster before?” she asked.

Nora shook her head.

Jesse gave one of those grins Nora was coming to like so much. “Well then,” she said. “This is going to blow your mind.”

 There was something soft, warm and heavy pressed against her.

Sleepily, Nora stirred. Her eyes slowly blinked open. The first thing she saw was light brown hair on the pillow beside her that absolutely wasn’t her own. Then she focused. Jesse was lying beside her, blue eyes fixed on hers.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“Good morning,” Nora said, stretching slightly.

They were quiet for a while, each of them admiring the view. Jesse’s fingertips danced down Nora’s arm, and Nora smiled shyly, ducking her head as a blush touched her cheeks.

“You were right,” she said.

“I graduated high school at fifteen and majored in five separate subjects in college, so I usually am,” said Jesse. “Right about what?”

Nora grinned. “It did blow my mind.”

Laughing, Jesse pulled her in for another kiss, morning breath forgotten.

They were very busily making out when there was a brief knock and the bedroom door immediately opened, with Joe standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Nora, Cecile and I were wondering if you –”

He stopped dead. Everyone in the room had frozen. Painstakingly slowly, as if dealing with an animal who would attack if there were any sudden movements, Nora pulled the duvet higher.

“I can explain,” she said.

“You know what?” said Joe. “I’d actually prefer that you didn’t. I’m going to go back downstairs and whenever you two are ready you can come down and we’ll all pretend this never happened.” Pausing, he said, “Uh. Nice to see you again, Jesse.” Then he backed out.

There was a momentary pause. Nora buried her face in her hands.

“So that happened,” said Jesse.

“Oh my God,” said Nora. “What is it about my family?”

“They’re pretty involved. I’d forgotten what that feels like. It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“Well if you stick around for a while, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to experience it a little more.”

She’d been aiming for casual, but Jesse saw right through her. Her smile was knowing. Embarrassed, Nora refused to look her in the eye.

“I can’t stay for too long,” she said. “I have a team back home, and I can’t leave my city undefended. But I’m sure a couple of extra days wouldn’t hurt.”

Unable to hide her delight, Nora said, “I mean, if you want. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’m starting to think you and trouble go hand in hand,” Jesse said, leaning in to kiss her. “But luckily for you, I kind of like it.”

[magiciaa]

Welcome to Magicia chapter 7: Obligatory Training Montage

((I’ve been looking forward to writing the next chapter, all I can say about it is that everything goes to shit in the worst ways possible. Also sorry if Sprinkles’ dialog is a bit hard to read, she talks super fast and I didn’t know how else to convey that)) 

“Wellwellwellwellwell, whodowehavehere, thelegendaryQueenofHeartsintheflesh, Ithoughtyouweresupposedtobedead” the pink magical girl spoke so fast that it was difficult to understand, as she raised her axe to Queen’s neck “you’regoingtogivemesomuchEXPwhenIkillyou”

“Rapid Sprinkles, the candy slime magical girl, I’ve heard some things about you and your girlfriend recently, mainly that you two almost broke the rules for harming a human” Queen announced calmly “Where is Nightmare Wonderland anyway? I thought you two were always together”

An arrow fashioned after a clock hand whizzed past Queen and knocked Doc’s hat off her head, pinning it to a tree

“Isthatagoodenoughanswerforyou?” Rapid Sprinkles stepped to the side, revealing Nightmare Wonderland hiding in a tree

“You could’ve killed me!” Doc yelled angrily “and I liked that hat”

“I could tell your transformation device wasn’t on your hat, that wouldn’t have done anything” Nightmare Wonderland jumped down from the tree she was hiding in and walked over to the group

“I was going to ask you two to help me kill someone, but I guess not now that you tried to impale me with an arrow” Doc turned away and snapped her fingers, summoning a new hat on top of her head

“Alright, I’m interested. who do you want me to kill?” Nightmare asked

“B…Br… Bronze” Doc struggled to say her name “I just need you two to deal with her guards, she’s my kill”

“The pop idol?” Nightmare asked “why would you want to kill her?”

“That ‘idol group’ has much more to it than you’d expect” Doc explained “they’ve ruined my life and are keeping a good friend of mine captive to get me to join them again”

“Ifitinvolvesmurder, we’rein” Sprinkles agreed “andIhateBronzeanyway, shejustactssofakeallthetime”

“We need a plan though, I’ve been thinking that since the audition is coming up, we send a spy or two in there first for a distraction, and then the rest of us bust in” Doc explained “who do you think would be a good spy”

“How about Lu and the goth one” Sakura suggested “although it is a magical girl idol group”

“Why me? Anyone would notice that I’m almost completely corrupted” Lu argued

“You know how you’re looking for someone? You might find her there, or not, I don’t know or care” Sakura replied condescendingly

“I’m fine with being a spy” Nightmare interjected “when’s the audition?”

“It’s tomorrow morning” Doc answered “at the stage in the center of the park”

“Alright, see you then” Nightmare replied, jumping onto one of the buildings right outside of the park

“Ishouldbegoingtoo” Sprinkles added, running to catch up with Nightmare so fast that she was just a pink, yellow, and blue blur

The group stood there in silence for a second, before Ace finally spoke up “so are we actually going to train so we don’t get our asses handed to us tomorrow or just sit here talking all day”

“Heh, I kind of forgot about that… do you two want to join us?” Tara asked Alistair and Sakura

“I’ll just watch until the sun goes down, I’m not a great fighter while carrying my umbrella” Alistair explained “and I can’t put it away while the sun is out”

“Alright that’s fair, and I’m guessing you’re sitting it out too, Sakura?” Ace replied

“Who said I was sitting it out?” Sakura hopped off Alistair’s hat and in a flash of pink light, became around the size of a 10 year old child “prepare to lose, Queen”

The group split into pairs to fight each other, Ace going with Tara, Doc going with Lu, and Sakura going with Queen.

Ace quickly summoned her scythe and dashed towards Tara, who jumped aside and threw three small darts with red string attached onto a tree root sticking out of the ground and pulled the strings tight. Ace tripped over the string and fell face-first in the grass.

“Fine, you win” Ace mumbled, spitting out dirt and grass while still lying on the ground “but you totally cheated”

Lu was desperately trying to dodge Doc’s attacks, but Doc was at an advantage due to her range. A shadow of a tree from the sunset landed in front of Doc, and Lu saw his opportunity. He turned the shadow into a loop around Doc’s leg and lifted her into the air.

“Ha! Shadow manipulation, didn’t expect that did you?” Lu taunted

“Enable animal features” Doc whispered, and fell from the shadow holding her, as a green light revealed her animal features; she now had five mechanical spider legs and pointy elf-like ears.

Doc grinned and charged at Lu, stabbing him in the chest with one of the spider legs and pinning him to the ground with the other four

“Mechanical spider, didn’t expect that, did you?” Doc mocked, stepping off of Lu and deactivating her animal features

“You didn’t have to stab me” Lu sat up, the hole in his chest already gone “if I wasn’t already dead, you could’ve killed me”

“But you are, so I didn’t have to hold back” Doc replied “and I won”

“Just because I can’t fully use my powers” Lu complained

Queen dashed backwards and tossed several ninja stars at Sakura, who teleported away in a cloud of pink sparkles, reappearing in midair behind Queen. Queen grabbed Sakura’s leg just as she was about to kick, and threw her to the ground, where she disappeared again. Sakura kicked Queen in the back, but she turned into a cloud of smoke, and Sakura just fell to the ground.

“Using a duplicate, impressive” Sakura sat up and turned to Queen, who was leaning against a tree near Alistair

“Alright, now that the sun is down, who’s up for a fight against me?” Alistair asked “there are three winners, so the other two can just fight each other, tournament style”

“I’ll do it” a familiar voice with a slight accent cut through the darkness, as two glowing purple and green eyes came into view “you weren’t planning on having all the fun without me, were you?”

“Sora? Why are you here?” Doc asked

“I was just headed to the store to pick some stuff up for tomorrow, but I heard you guys yelling, so now I’m here”

“You’re making me fight her?” Alistair asked “has she even fought before”

“Don’t underestimate me” Sora replied, rolling down her sleeves and putting her gloves on

Alistair charged at Sora, unsheathing the sword from his umbrella and slashing downward. Sora raised her left arm to block the blade, but it just sliced through her metal arm like it was nothing. Alistair paused for a second looking at Sora’s arm, thinking he had actually hurt her, before Sora grabbed his wrist with her other hand and pinned him to the ground

“Great, now I’m going to have to stay up all night to repair my arm again” Sora complained, letting Alistair go and picking up the hand that she dropped on the ground “that’s what I get for not making it durable enough”

“You’re a surprisingly competent fighter” Alistair got up and brushed the dirt off his suit “but I would’ve won if I hadn’t hesitated”

“Well I had gloves on and my sleeves rolled down, so you couldn’t tell that my arm is metal, even if you can see in the dark” Sora replied “but on a better note, I’ve got an invention in the works that might help our fight tomorrow, but it’s only a prototype, so I don’t know if it’ll work as planned just yet”

“What is it?!” Doc asked excitedly

“It probably won’t help you” Sora explained “it’s supposed to be a suit designed to give anyone without powers a chance when fighting against magical girls, I designed it so that Fern and I would be able to match a magical girl in a fight, but I guess I’ll have to make two more now”

“You don’t have to if it’s more work, and you said that they’re just prototypes” Alistair replied “and I’ll be fine, unless any magical girls have a wooden stake for a weapon, haha”

“And I’m a faerie, I can’t actually be killed” Sakura added

“Alright, we’re all meeting up at the stage tomorrow morning” Ace interrupted “now let’s go so we can prepare”

Everyone nodded in agreement and went their own separate ways to prepare for a fight against an entire idol group of magical girls over double their level.

[jetbootcollection]

Rebel Propaganda

Summary: Pidge finally gets a solid lead on her family, but they are set to perform for the Galra’s entertainment at a gladiator arena. What she finds when she gets there is not what she expected.

Back home, Lance had taken to walking the streets of his hometown or the corridors of the Garrison to clear his head. Sore feet and ignoring people to be alone with his thoughts made his problems seem more manageable somehow. This made the Castle of Lions the perfect place to calm down after a shouting match with Keith or a lecture from Shrio. He could walk for what felt like miles without running into another soul, and the ship’s gentle hum was better than the bustle of traffic any day.

On one such walk, he finds Pidge in the lounge going through yet another Galra database on her laptop. The corner of her screen is red with angry looking symbols flying by at blinding speed, the rest of the screen taken up by much slower English in blue. Pidge usually finds some hiding place to curl up in when she searched for her family, saying she didn’t want to bum out her teammates.

“You want to talk through it? I used to help my siblings with their homework and half the time they solved it themselves while explaining it to me.” Lance wanted to help because, as Pidge had correctly guessed, seeing her search fruitlessly was bumming him out.

“Like Rubber Duck Debugging?” Pidge responded as if Lance knew what she meant. He, of course, did not. Pidge sees his confused look and explains RDD while she goes back to looking at her screen. “You place a rubber duck or something in front of your screen and explain your code line by line in terms so simple that even a bath toy could understand. When you find a part that doesn’t make sense enough to explain, you found the problem.”

Lance doesn’t like being compared to a duck, but takes a seat on the couch next to her so she can walk him through it. He listens for 15 minutes when he gets an idea.

“So you have only been searching for them by their names and prison IDs?”

“How else would I.” Pidge says dejectedly while leaning back to sink into the couch. This was why she kept her search to herself, if only to save herself from having to admit she was out of ideas.

“I don’t know. There are only two humans in the Galra’s system so you could try searching by species.”

Pidge starts to roll her eyes at the idea for being too simple, then stops mid-roll when she realizes it’s brilliant. Snapping upright to type on her laptop, she makes an angry noise in the back of her throat that startles Lance enough to fall off the couch.

“What the quiznak was that for?”

“It’s the Galra word for ‘human.’ Just need to figure out how to spell it.”

Lance had left the lounge maybe half an hour ago when Allura calls everyone to the bridge. He meets Shiro at an intersection and the two continue to make their way up together.

“Any idea what this is about? She didn’t sound as urgent as usual.” He asks while moving at his usual Ready For Action jogging pace.

“I suggested Pidge search for her family by species instead of by prison ID. Must have found something.” Lance answers. Shiro breaks into a full run, which Lance can barely keep up with. Fortunately, the bridge is not far off and Lance is not too winded by the time they arrive. They still have to wait for Hunk and Coran to come up from the Yellow Lion’s hangar.

Once everyone has gathered, Pidge begins.

“I found this as part of a galaxy wide Galra broadcast, along with the news and stock market stuff.” She says, putting up an image on the main view screen.

“Looks like a concert poster.” Says Keith. The other boys nod and grunt in agreement. The poster has a picture of Earth over a purple nebula background with words curved around it. The only word that translates is “Human.”

“Can you translate the rest?” asks Hunk.

“It looks like it might be Lower Galrian, the language that civilians use. It looks like the language has evolved over the last 10,000 years. There’s no telling what it says unless we find a way to translate it to War Galrian first, which is unlikely. They always made a point of keeping the two languages separate.” Coran explains apologetically.

“Those numbers at the bottom still look like coordinates and a date.” Says Shiro, putting his time as a Galra prisoner to good use. He had received a crash course in Galra numbers from another prisoner so that he could read the schedule for his next fight.

Allura searches her memory of the time before the war when she had known Lower Galrian to some extent. The shape of the numerals had changed a bit, but the loops and intersections of each pen stroke were similar enough to read. She runs a search on the string of numbers and doesn’t like what she finds.

“The coordinates are for a known gladiatorial arena. We have to put a stop to this.”

Knowing that Pidge’s family very well could be on the chopping block, the team puts together a plan to sneak in. Whatever this event was, a one-on-one or a battle royal, it was starting in only a few hours. There was little time to gather intel, and the Galra were being surprisingly tight lipped about it.

Pidge scans every coms channel she can find for more information but the few transmissions she can associate with the event at the arena are little more than excited ramblings. Behind her, Shiro goes over what he knows about the Galra arenas from his time as Champion. The backstage areas where usually lightly guarded unless it was a title match or the fight involved the leaders of recently conquered planets. Pidge looks over her shoulder and immediately sees how dead his eyes look. The other Paladins can’t help but notice how rehearsed his speech was, as if he was clueing in new prisoners. While thankful for the knowledge, they felt bad for Shrio needing to push through sour memories for their sake.

Allura opens a wormhole and hides the Castle inside the bright white rings of a gas giant, with the arena on one of the giant’s larger moons. Through the dense ice and rock they can see their destination. Dozens of civilian ships are in orbit, with most of the moon’s surface covered in lights. Lance whistles as he notices how festive the arena looks.

“Looks like quite the party down there.”

“Only the Galra would find blood sport worth celebrating.” Allura says bitterly, disgusted by the notion. The Paladins share glances and come to a wordless agreement to not share the contents of certain history textbooks from Earth. The Galra and Roman Empires shared the same taste in entertainment, but the princess didn’t need to know that.

With the main event fast approaching, the Paladins pile into the Green Lion and slip through the orbital parking lot of ships under the safety of the cloak. Behind the cockpit, they had already set up a makeshift medbay to triage whoever they end up rescuing.

Getting in was surprisingly easy. The team was used to sneaking around drones with all kinds of sensors, actively looking for intruders. But by the time Green had landed it was clear that the guards posted around the perimeter were no more threatening than the security guard that had chased them out of the space mall. The arena side entrance was even unlocked.

Shiro sensed a trap, but knew that Pidge’s family was too important to waste time being overly cautious. The team made their way down narrow concrete hallways until they came to a security terminal in the middle of the corridor. On the main screen was the arena floor.

“You sure there is going to be a fight? Looks more like a stage to me.” Hunk notices. The arena floor has a raised platform in the middle, complete with a fancy red curtain and powerful lighting. The audience was seated on only half of the circular arena, setting the focus for a directional performance rather than the normal fights.

“Sometimes the fights are themed after the cultures the fighters come from. I remember a fight once where two Eddgonians sang each other to death like it was an opera.” Shiro remembered while instinctively reaching to rest his hand on the elbow of his robotic arm. He had seen some messed-up acts in his time. Realizing where his hand was, he blends the motion into a hand signal to keep moving.

Dodging the first patrol they had run into, they made their way to the backstage area. Behind the stage was a storage area with semitransparent black curtains blocking the view of the audience. The Paladins snuck their way through what looked like backdrops for a stage production and a multitude of props.

“Man, the Galra never do anything halfway. This makes me feels like we are on Broadway.” Lance says, thinking back to the many school plays he had been a part of.

“Probably going all out for this themed fight because the fighter is the same species as the Empire’s greatest enemies. They want to rub it in.” Keith says, trying hard to not sound menacing. Pidge grimaces at the thought of her father and brother being put through extra cruel treatment because of her.

The roar of the crowd tells the team that they are too late to stop the fight before it starts. Pidge sprints to the opening on the side of the stage. Everyone assumes the worst when she freezes in place, her face contorted in shock and surprise.

“HEY! What are you doing back here?!” A guard yells hidden behind a backdrop, grabbing her arm and throwing her back the way she came.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER?” Pidge yells, barely audible over the music that started to play.

Hunk is silently thankful that he had not been the first to look, imagining what Matt must look like to elicit that kind of response from Pidge. He sees a glint of a door opening behind him and pulls out his bayard. Battle instincts kick in as the Paladins are swarmed by dozens of guards. Some are stronger than others, but nothing compared to the soldiers they fight on a regular basis.

All through the fight the loud music shakes the floor, ruining their balance. The guards seem accustomed to it, leveraging the music to their advantage. Try as they might, the acoustics are not in the Paladin’s favor. They can’t even make out the content of the music beyond the thumping beat. Something in the back of Shiro’s mind seems to think the beat feels Japanese in origin, but there is a fight to be won and a friend to save so he ignores it.

The lights dim as a new song begins, and Keith could see thousands of small purple lights appear in the stands through the thin black curtain. Are those…glowsticks? No time to worry about that now. Not when Pidge is mowing through mooks so fast she could be a danger to the team if he lets his guard down. She had already thrown someone so hard they knocked over the guard Keith had been fighting, who would have fallen on him if he not for fast reflexes.

Despite not being the caliber of fighters they are used to, the guards were doing their job well as they managed to herd the Paladins farther and farther from the stage. By the time the last wave of guards were taken down, the crowd had cheered through half a dozen songs or so. Shiro prayed that Matt had built up the stamina and skill to survive that long in one piece.

Pidge is yet again the first to the side of the stage, tossing aside an unconscious guard blocking the stairs. But this time someone steps out as she approaches. Whoever it was wearing a fabulous purple dress and was holding a microphone.

Shiro squints to focus on this new face only for his eye to go wide as he makes a sudden realization and can’t seem to find the words. Keith, Hunk, and Lance take a few more seconds to recognize the other person in the photo Pidge carries around and are equally dumbfounded.

It was Matt. Covered in makeup and big fluffy bows. He squeaks in fear as he suddenly finds himself faced with five armored strangers with weapons drawn. Taking a step back, he can see by the look in their eyes that they are just as surprised to see him as he is to see them. Speaking of eyes, the eyes of the short green one look kind familiar. Before he knows it, they have ripped off their helmet and Matt suddenly finds himself looking into a mirror. They share a look for a moment, not believing what they are seeing.

Matt doesn’t respond until he is certain who this person is. They changed a lot in their time apart, but so had he.

“You became a DUDE!?”

“You became a GIRL?!” Pidge blurted out half a second later. Pidge knew her brother would not give answers until she gave an answer first. He had asked first, and that was the rule Mom had put down after one too many arguments across the dinner table. “I broke into the Garrison to get info on the Kerberos mission. Iverson banned me when I got caught so I enrolled as a guy. You?”

“Some rebels broke me out of jail and I joined up. They needed a propaganda tool so I suggested an Idol Singer as a joke. It kinda snowballed from there.” He saw his sister break eye contact to take in his appearance.

“It looks good on you.” Pidge compliments with a hint of jealousy. Why did he look better in a dress than she ever had?

“I know, right?” he says while bending his knees slightly and flaring out his hands. The slight turn of the motion makes the dress twirl a bit.

A new voice screams at the sight of what could be hundreds of guards piled on the floor and his star performer cornered by the probable assailants. Hunk was glad he had the presence of mind to stow away his bayard when the fight ended, otherwise he would have dropped his gun on his foot.

“Matt! Who are these people? What do they want?” He pleads, reaching out with one of his arms while the other three point to the Paladins.

“Jyato, hey. These are my guests,” Matt gestures to the still shocked Paladins, “And they forgot their passes. Security gave them a hard time but they kicked butt! They’re soooo strong!” He ends with a swoon as he clasped his hand together. Pidge can’t decide whether to punch or laugh at her brother.

Jyato the manager is clearly annoyed with Matt’s antics. This seems to have happened before.

“Fine. Clean yourself up and get changed. Phase 2 is already in orbit and they sound impatient.” He concedes before stocking off in a huff.

“Phase 2?” Pidge asks.

“Of my show. You guys want to help blow up some Galra Battleships?” Matt asks brightly as if inviting them to a pool party.

“…What...” Lance and Keith say in perfect unison as Matt walks past them, slyly sliding a white gloved hand along both their jaws and coaxing their heads to turn so their eyes stayed glued to him.

“Come with me you handsome devils.” Matt said seductively, yet with no intent in his voice. Pidge could tell he was laying it on thick. And by the way the Blue and Red Paladins were blushing, they were eating it up.

  Matt explains a bit about his situation as he leads the Paladins to a temporary looking hangar outside the arena. Everything he was doing he was doing was part of the show, and that included flirting with the crowd until he was out of sight. He apologized to Lance and Keith for being so forward, saying that fans always peak backstage. And who is he to disappoint his fans?

The hangar bustles with activity. Fighter craft are being fueled and pilots hastily suiting up, with a muffled speaker relaying directions somewhere overhead.

“Okay, this is not how I thought today would turn out.” Lance starts. “Seriously, is this even happening? First we found Pidge’s brother in a dress and now we’re stepping into Star Wars.”

Matt chuckles. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it does kinda…” Matt pauses and turns to his sister. “Pidge? Like Dad used to call you?”

She winces as she is reminded of where the name came from. “I needed a name to enroll with.” She said shyly, hoping her brother would not embarrass her by telling everyone how she had earned the nickname.  Fortunately, he had either grown some tact or was saving that story for later.

“I like it.” Matt turns back to the other Paladins. “You guys can take a pod back to your ship to get those Lions I’ve heard so much about. Kati…Pidge? Pidge. Pidge and I will start the show.” They could discuss which name to use later. As far as her friends were concerned her name was Pidge, and that was good enough for now.

The boys cram into pod Matt had pointed to and hurry back to Castle, and Pidge reaches out with her mind to summon Green from her hiding place. Matt whistles approvingly as Green touches down.

“Okay, now I believe you.”

“Believe what?”

“That you would fly a ship way cooler than I ever would.” Pidge can’t help but smile as she remembers the dinner she had made that bold statement.

Matt walk behind a curtain to change into a flight suit that matches the dress he had been wearing.  Following him to his ship, Pidge’s eyes nearly pop when she sees it.

“Oh my god. Matt, that ship is so extra!” she said, barely holding back the laughter. Matt’s ship looked like a retrofitted Galra fighter, the kind the Lions smashed by the dozen. It had oversized engines, showy laser guns that really didn’t need to stick out that far, and glowing purple armor plates. An artistic rendition of Matt’s face was painted on the wings, sticking his tongue out and throwing a peace sign with a disembodied hand. Pidge could have sworn she had seen something like it in an anime one time.

Still fighting back the giggles, she boards the Green Lion.

“All right boys, it’s show time!” Matt calls over the coms. Fighter craft explode out of the hangar in a well-practiced formation, led by Matt and Pidge.

Back at the Castle, Allura is not sure what to make of all this. The Paladins had not reported in at their scheduled time, and when they did they had informed her that Matt was going to lead the charge against the fleet amassing in orbit. Coran picked up a broadcast that was flooding the coms network.

The broadcast was blaring music and showing prerecorded videos of battles against the Galra featuring a garishly designed ship performing unnecessarily complex maneuvers. At the end of the song, Pidge -no, that must be Matt- began broadcasting from a plush looking cockpit.

“Hey everybody! Sorry to keep you waiting. But look who I found backstage! My little sister!” He said in a sickeningly cute voice. Was this person really related to Pidge? The broadcast smoothly introduced a second camera angle, this time with Pidge in the Green Lion.

“HI!!!”  Pidge squealed happily, waving into the camera. Allura’s immediate thought was that they had been infected with some kind of virus to make them act strangely, but she would give Pidge the benefit of the doubt.

“My sister happens to a Paladin of Voltron. Let’s hear who wants to see us kick some Empire butt!”

The cheer that came as a response did not come over the coms but Allura felt them no less as the Castle was rocked by the sheer force of it.

“But sound doesn’t travel through space!” Coran said in a panic, clinging to his control panel to steady himself. Never underestimate the power of a crowd, Allura thought.

The remaining Paladins had made it to their Lions and were launching just as the battle started. They too had picked up Matt’s broadcast.

“This is ridiculous. How does he expect anyone to take him seriously?” Keith questioned.  

“It all about moral, man.”

“Lance is right. People can do anything if you give them the right encouragement.” Hunk replied. “These rebels must get all kinds of support from their fans.”

Matt opens a private channel, speaking normally but still with a feminine flare.

“Alright guys, here’s the thing. These are not real Galra ships.” The Paladins raise eyebrows and give confused grunts.  “These are captured vessels that are remote controlled. We modified the laser cannons on them to only give a real hard shove without burning a hole in anything. Feel free to tank a few shots for the sake of the show. If any more ships show up, those ones are real.”

Keith groaned. This wasn’t even a real fight. Shiro could almost taste the disappointment.

“Come on Keith, it’ll be fun. All in the name of moral. Now, let’s FORM VOLTRON!”

  And what a show it had been.

Or so Lance thought. As he woke up and uncoiled himself from the bedsheets, he couldn’t help but regret waking up from such a fantastic dream. Keith had managed to enjoy himself, and the face Pidge had made once Matt was safely aboard had him thinking her checks would break from the smile.

“Man that dream was awesome. I bet Pidge would get a kick out of it.”

Lance yawns heavily, stretching his arms as he does. Food first, then story time.

Lance feels his tiredness grow as he approaches the kitchen. It would seem he did not sleep well despite having such a vivid dream, and hadn’t bothered doing his bedtime beauty ritual. He is the last one to breakfast this morning. As per usual he greets everyone clockwise around the table.

“Pidge, Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Coran, Pidge, Allura. Goood morning.” Usually it flowed a little better with fewer people seated, but he was late.

Lance makes it all the way to the goo dispenser before he notices the growing sounds of muffled snickering. All he had said was ‘good morning’ to everyone. What was so funny?

“…Wait. WHAT?! Two Pidges?” He said spinning around to point at the two.

Varying amounts of laughter erupt from around the table, none more so than the siblings sitting across from each other.

“Come on, Lance. Do we really look that similar?”

Notes:

This was entirely inspired by an art post on Tumblr. I can’t tell for certain if the owner of the blog is the artist, what with part of it being in Chinese(?), but Google Image Search gives me no reason to doubt it.

Sam Holt doesn’t get so much as a mention because everyone was pretty well distracted when Matt showed up in a dress. Hopefully Sam comes up in the conversation over breakfast once they stop laughing at Lance.

…What do you mean, I can just write him in? That’s not how this works. I find a universal parallel of Voltron I like, search the timeline for eutectic events that bookend something interesting, and record what I see. Sure, I spice things up a bit, but the story begins and ends when it decides to.

I’m not super jazzed with the title. The original title gave away that Matt was an Idol Singer, and the second “sounded like a ‘Toddlers in Tiaras’ episode title,” as a friend put it.

If you can figure out which of the Holt siblings said that last line, let me know. ‘Cause I have no idea which one said it.

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts AU Ch4

On ao3

And her it is, folks! I hope you enjoy this and just know that I’ve never written a sporting event before, so any comments on the game are very appreciated. Once again, thanks to @tearfulmelody for editing this.

Btw, I’m sorry in advance.

The Hufflepuff Horror Party had come soon after their Hogsmeade visit and it was great.

Of course, that was to be expected. The Hufflepuff House prided itself on,  among other things, throwing great parties, and they all put their best efforts into it. The party took place in the Hall of the Slain, the night after the Halloween Feast. The hall was decorated so it was dark, like you were standing inside the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night. In fact, fifth year students from Hufflepuff, when asked to practice spells that made plants grow faster in Herbology, had practiced on tree seeds from the Forest. This resulted in full grown trees decorating the Hall, completed with spider webs and fake bats that flied as if they were real. The traditional floating Jack ‘o Lanterns of Hogwarts weren’t missing either. They drifted across the room, casting their dim, in many cases multicolored light upon the partying students like magical disco balls.

In the end, while they might not have gone to the party as the Scooby Doo gang, they went as the Power Rangers (blame Magnus). That, of course, had brought up the discourse of who would get to be the Red Ranger. In the end, after a lot of fighting and arguments between Halfborn and Alex he preferred not to think back to, they had decided Sam should be the Red one. Halfborn was Blue, T.J was Green, Magnus was Yellow, Alex was Pink and Mallory was Black. The might have been incredibly warm in their suits, and wearing their helmets may have resulted to Halfborn stumbling over a group of second years, but hey, they had an excuse to strike ridiculous poses without anyone judging them (that had been Magnus’ main argument in favor of this choice).

They had a great time! There were party streamers and confetti all over the place, which the first and second years used to play war. At any given moment, you could be knocked off your feet from a rushing kid who was running away from an attack or on a mission to steal the enemy’s supply of party goods. Since Alex had never had the opportunity to partake in Hogwarts’ legendary Party War, the table 19 gang joined the younger students, Magnus, Sam and Alex on one side and Halfborn, Mallory and T.J on the other. They threw confetti and party streamers at each other. Halfborn head-locked Alex and rubbed confetti on his hair as he struggled to get away. T.J and Mallory had a full on “snowball fight” with balls made of party streamers and dragged Sam into it too. Magnus used his legendary attack and threw a giant pile of party supplies at the enemy side while yelling “Booyakasha!”

It had become much quieter at ten, when the first, second and third years had to leave because of curfew. The older years, however, were allowed to stay longer and Magnus, like his friends and everyone in his year, were extremely giddy about being able to stay longer. They danced and pulled ridiculous shit, like trying to form a human pyramid even though they had never done that before. They ended up a mess of spandex clad bodies on the floor, wiggling around like fish out of water and trying to get untangled.

Magnus and Alex were by the buffet table, having a competition to see who could find the nastiest Every Flavor Bean. This far in, Magnus had to eat some that tasted like egg, berries, vomit, grass (which tasted surprisingly nice) and pineapple. He was about to eat a green one Alex handed him that could be either bogeys or green apple when Alex talked.

“So what did Sam want to talk to you about the other day?”

“What do you mean?” Magnus asked as he popped the candy in his mouth. Thank goodness, it was apple.

“When Sam took you outside to talk when we were in Valhalla,” Alex said. “You didn’t look too good afterwards. Neither did she,  now that I think about it.”

Magnus averted his eyes from Alex, now finding the bowl of candy much more interesting. After his talk with Sam, he had tried to act normal. He had tried to act like everything was fine, but his mood had dampened significantly and, even though he hadn’t realized it, all his friends picked up on it. Magnus joked along with them and laughed with them, but he wasn’t there with them; his heart wasn’t in it.

“Look,” Alex said as he stepped closer to Magnus, the candy forgotten completely now. “I… don’t know what’s happening, honestly. And I’m not good at this whole ‘friends’ thing, I never got much practice. But everyone is worried about you and… I’m worried too.” He paused, taking a deep breath like he was psyching himself up to say what he wanted.  “What you said after what that boy did really helped me. I want to help you too and talking to people makes you feel better.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, pink tonight to match his costume. “I’m not that good in talking to people about what bothers me, so I probably don’t have a right to tell you this, but… talk to Sam. Even if you don’t tell her everything, getting some of it off your chest will help, whatever it is.”

Magnus looked at the bowl of multicolored beans silently. What Alex said made sense, but still… he was afraid.

When he finally talked, he didn’t look at Alex. “I thought you’d ask me to tell you what happened.”

From the sound of his voice, the notion surprised Alex. “No, you’ve know Sam much longer. If it’s something so bad to make you this miserable, I thought you’d trust her with it more. Plus, I wouldn’t know what to do if you cried. I’d just stand there awkwardly.”

Magnus sighed. All around them, the music was beating loud and fast as students danced under the shining colored lights. It was noisy and the air warm and even a bit study from the dozens of sweaty teenagers. Magnus had never thought he’d be in a place so bright and alive and feel anything but that. Until now, he had never understood how you could be around so many people and feel so utterly lonely.

“But,” Alex said, his voice cheery. Maybe a bit to cheery. Like he was hoping that his cheerfulness would rub off on Magnus and make him feel better. It didn’t quite work. “If anyone has hurt you, then I’m 100% willing to make them pay. That’s what friends do, right?”

Magnus gave a pathetic little chuckle. He wondered if Alex could bring his mum back from the dead by punching the Grim Reaper in the face.

“Yeah,” Magnus answered absentmindedly. Maybe he should talk to Sam. Maybe it would make him feel better. “Thanks for talking to me, Alex.”

“No problem,” he said cheerily and popped an Every Flavor Bean in his mouth. Unfortunately for him, it was cat piss. “Eww! Gross!”

Magnus, despite himself, laughed at his friend’s misfortune. What Magnus didn’t know was that Alex knew perfectly well what that bean tasted like before putting it in his mouth ad it was hardly an accident.

“Come on!” he said after most of the cat piss taste left his tongue and Magnus had had a good laugh at his expense. “Let’s go dance with the others!”

“Nah, I think I’m good over here,” Magnus said. “I need to do some thinking.”

“Nuh uh. No way. I’m not letting you here on your own.” As Alex said that, he grabbed Magnus by the wrist and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor. “Plus, I asked them to play that song we talked about in class about now.”

“What song?” Magnus asked, right as the band started playing Macarena.  He looked Alex dead in the eye. “Seriously?”

She beamed at him. “Yep! Now show me how you dance this again!”

~~~~~~

Magnus had meant to talk to Sam after the party. He did, he really did, but… some things are easier said than done. In the week that followed Halloween, he had caught himself about to speak to her at least a dozen times, but every time something always happened and he didn’t get the chance to talk. Every time he told himself it didn’t matter because he could just talk to her next time. But when the next time came, he still chickened out of it.

Magnus was in the library, doing his homework. T.J was tutoring some younger students for extra credit (not that he really needed it) and he wasn’t quite sure where Halfborn was. He was supposed to run some errands for Professor Jack, if Magnus remembered correctly but he wasn’t sure. He was sitting by the large window that overlooked the Quidditch field. Mallory, Sam and Alex were practicing along with the rest of the Slytherin team.

Sam was the team’s Seeker from this year on since the previous one had graduated. It had been the position she wanted since the beginning, but up until now she had been a Chaser. She was great in the field, but then again Sam was born to fly. Learning how to fly on a broomstick had been what she was most excited about in their first year, and she was amazing at it.

Mallory was a Beater, because of course she’d choose the position when you had to beat up people. She was deadly in a game and might have broken her fair share of bone by accident while playing (both her own and other’s). Alex was a Chaser and with their first match of the year this Saturday, she could hardly stay still.

He turned back to the Potions essay in front of him and struggled to get the words to come out. He knew he should have started earlier, but with everything that was happening he couldn’t focus on it for long. That resulted with him having to turn in the essay in two days and being hardly half way through the first paragraph.

He sighed again, using an erasing spell to erase the line he had just written. Ugh, why couldn’t he write it? It was just a simple essay! And it wasn’t even on something difficult, he knew this stuff, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to write it.

Or, well, he was concentrated on something, just not what he was supposed to. Struggling to talk to Sam about his mother meant that the topic was always front and center in his brain instead of at the very back, along with all the other horrible things he would have preferred never happened. That, in turn, meant that he had had a horrible mood for days.

Magnus, well, Magnus was a bottler, if that hadn’t been clear enough already. He didn’t talk about what bothered him, at least not on his own accord. If something troubled him, he never brought it up, preferring to keep it in instead of annoying people with his problems. If he did talk to someone, it was after the other person initiated it and asked him what was wrong. And even then he wouldn’t speak unless the bottle was absolutely filled to the brim and one more drop would make it explode.

But keeping all that in, when the bottle was full and heavy with all the small or big things that bothered him, made him feel horrible. And Magnus didn’t like feeling like that, which in turn made him feel even worse and drop by drop the bottle kept filling.

He groaned again, much too loud for someone in a library, and flopped down on the table, letting his head rest on the hard wood. This shouldn’t be so difficult and he shouldn’t get so frustrated or sad over it but he was and that made it even worse.

The blonde was contemplating asking T.J. to write it for him when he heard the scraping sound of someone pulling back a chair. He looked up to see Professor Hearthstone sitting opposite him.

The Ancient Runes teacher was tall and thin, he reminded Magnus a bit of Jack the Pumpkin King from the Nightmare Before Christmas with his long arms and legs. His hair, complexion and even eyes were so white that Magnus wondered whether or not they would be able to find him in snow. There was a slightly pointy tip to his ears and Magnus knew that he had elf blood in his family, however distant it might be.

“Professor Hearthstone?” Magnus asked, confused as to why the Ravenclaw Head of House would be here. “Is there something I can help you with?”

That’s actually what I wanted to ask you, the Professor signed.

Professor Hearthstone was deaf and talked in BSL and Halfborn had taught Magnus after he asked him because it seemed interesting. A few parents had complained about his hiring in Hogwarts, saying that the fact he couldn’t speak would make lessons more difficult for students. A lot also had problems with his elf descendancy and didn’t want their children to be taught by him. As T.J. had explained to them, the matter was resolved when Professor Hearthstone sent every single parent who complained about him a letter containing his family tree to show them how far back his elf ancestor was. In the letter he also told the parents that he used a spell to voice his thoughts for lessons, so if they wanted to complain they should first inform themselves, and that, at the end of the day, their children didn’t have to take his lesson if they didn’t want to.

I understand you are not necessarily my student, the Professor continued, however it has come to my attention that something is troubling you and I wanted to help.

“H-how did you realize?” Magnus asked, too tired to even try and lie about it.

The teacher raised an eyebrow. I talk frequently with Blitzen, and many of your friends are students of mine. They’re all worried about you.

Dread filled up Magnus’s heart. He didn’t want to worry his friends,  that was why he didn’t let them know what was wrong with him. But doing that changed nothing, apparently, because his friends still worried, and felt powerless to help their friend when they didn’t even know what to help him with.

“I-I don’t really want to talk about it,” Magnus muttered, training his eyes on his unfinished essay.

Professor Hearthstone reached out and raised his face so Magnus would look at him. I understand, he signed, but as a teacher, I don’t enjoy seeing my students in pain. I understand you might not want to talk about some things, and you might not feel comfortable talking about them to everyone. But I know firsthand how much it can hurt everyone around you and most importantly you to keep them in.

Professor Hearthstone sat up straighter. I am not here to make you talk to me. I understand you might not want to. But letting it out of you will help. If you don’t want to talk to a teacher or a friend, you can write about it.

“Like a dairy?”

I suppose. What I wanted to say is that you should talk about it if you want to. I can guarantee to you that if you talk to a teacher, they won’t tell what you told them to anyone.

Professor Hearthstone stood up, tall and slightly imposing despite being so thin. However, I cannot make you talk if you don’t want to. In the end, it’s your choice.

The Ancient Runes teacher walked out of the library, leaving Magnus behind, sitting on his own by the large window that overlooked the Quidditch field and feeling lost.

~~~~~~~

The sky was bright and the atmosphere was buzzing as the stands around the Quidditch filled were alive with the Hogwarts students, young and old, excited for another match of the wizarding world’s most famous sport.

If one where to look at the stand from high up, they would see a sea of red and green. Students of all ages were wearing their house scarves proudly to cheer on their teams. Some were waving banners or flags and there was even a student that had charmed a stuffed lion to roar. The air was buzzing with the cacophony of the students shouts and the game hadn’t even began yet. Magnus knew from experience it would get much worse as the game progressed.

T.J. and Magnus were in the stands, excited to watch their friends duke it out in the field. Supporting both teams, they were among the few, if not the only, students dressed in both House’s colors. T.J had Halfborn’s scarf hanging around his neck and Sam’s scarf in hand, prepared to start waving it around when the game started. He had a large hat that had ‘Slytherin’ spelled out on it in silver, glittering paint and a Gryffindor flag in the other hand. Magnus, in the meanwhile, was wearing Alex’s scarf around his neck and, like T.J, held Mallory’s scarf in one hand and a Gryffindor flag in the other, with his blonde hair covered by a large Gryffindor hat.

“Slytherin! Gryffindor! Slytherin! Gryffindor!” T.J. practically chanted, turning from side to side and waving his arms around.

“T.J., the match hasn’t even started yet,” Magnus said, keeping a straight face with great difficulty. T.J. always got over excited about Quidditch matches.

“I’m practicing,” the dark skinned boy said and went back to waving his arms.

Magnus smiled. T.J. was rightfully excited. Quidditch matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin always got the school buzzing with excitement. The two Houses, while not out for blood, were definitely the most competitive among the four. Their matches were always intense and managed to get everyone’s adrenaline pumping, even if they didn’t know a lot about the sport.

It wasn’t long before the commenter started talking, announcing the teams’ entrance.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and all you lovely folks in the stands, it’s time for the much awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin!”

The stands roared with excitement. Magnus could swear the whole pitch was shaking from the power of their voices, and he might have cared about them collapsing and falling down if he wasn’t screaming alongside the other students.

The Gryffindor team run in the field, brooms in hand, as the announcer introduced them and gave fun facts about them.

“And Halfborn Gunderson walks in, real name a total mystery. But don’t be fooled by his size, because this giant of a man will beat you in grades like he beats you on the field. Will he be able to score points for his team?”

Claps, whistles and cheers rocked the stands as the Gryffindor students and supporters went wild. Their whole team was lined up in the filled, a row of blazing red and gold flowers among the green grass.

“And now, on the other side of the field, please give a warm welcome to Slytherin!”

The announcer did the same thing as before as the Slytherin players walked in, walking proudly in their dark green robes.

“Mallory Keen walks into the field. Petite as she might me, don’t underestimate this fiery redhead unless you want a concussion. Though I wouldn’t mind getting one from a beauty like this.”

Mallory stood next to her teammates with the confidence of a winner, her wild mane of hair pulled back in a puffy ponytail. She didn’t seem to have heard the announcer’s flirting, and if she did, she didn’t seem to care.

“And here we have Alex Fierro! She/her today, folks, and this young girl seems ready as hell to win her team points!”

Alex was holding her broom on her shoulders, like one might hold a stick to carry buckets of water. She beamed up at the stands and the crowd went wild.

“And now, the Slytherin Seeker, the lady of the skies herself, Samirah al-Abbas!” Sam ran onto the field, green hijab fluttering as she run. She had earned herself a reputation in Hogwarts as an amazing Seeker.  

Hunding went over something with the teams, probably asking them for a fair game, before releasing the balls. The players shot up after them, fast and fierce. They flew with such speed and precision Magnus got equally scared and thrilled watching them. They flew left and right, high and low, so fast Magnus could barely keep track of them.

Magnus wasn’t the best person to describe a Quidditch match to you, mostly because he only knew the basics of the game, like how many points a goal was worth and that the game ended when the snitch was caught. His limited knowledge, however, didn’t stop him from realizing the game was bloody intense. It was been twenty minutes into the match and no one had score yet. The players flew up and down, throwing balls and catching them, zipping past the stands so fast Magnus’ hat was almost blown off.

Sam and the Gryffindor Seeker were hovering above the rest of the players. Their eyes were scanning the field, patiently waiting for the appearance of the Snitch. At one point, Sam suddenly dipped down, chasing after a golden blur. The other Seeker soon followed her, desperately trying to catch up. In his hurry, he crashed into Sam and they both lost their chance at the Snitch.

Another twenty minutes passed and now the two teams had each scored a goal. Alex and Halfborn were in a heated battle over one of the quaffle and neither of them was giving up anytime soon. Mallory and the other Beater flew around and attacked the enemy players. Once, Mallory smacked a bludger so close to a Gryffindor player it only missed her by a hair. The Gryffindor girl, surprised by the ball that had just zipped past her, lost her balance, and fell off her broom. Luckily, the pitch was charmed so if one of the students fell, it was like falling on a trampoline instead of on hard ground.

Magnus’ voice was going hoarse by the time Alex scored her second goal. The crowd’s excitement was contagious and Magnus’s cheeks were flushed red from all the yelling and cheering. He was about to turn to T.J to tell him something when the two Seekers suddenly dipped down. They flew towards the ground, going faster and faster, chasing the tiny golden ball that zipped past the other players.

The whole student body watched with bated breath as the two Seekers were neck to neck. They held onto their brooms with one hand, the other hand stretched forward to catch the Snitch. Down and down they went and Magnus couldn’t take his eyes of them.

Then, a breath away from the ground, they pulled up. Magnus wasn’t sure whether his heart had stopped beating or whether it was beating too fast. He would never understand how Sam could pull stunts like that without feeling scared.

The two teams had stopped playing, waiting to see who caught the Snicth like the other students. The silence that descended on the field was just as deafening as the cheering had been before.

Then Sam raised her right hand up high to show a pair of gold wings jutting out of her closed fist and fluttering wildly.

The stands erupted with cheers. The Slytherin supporters’ yells were loud and happy, and while you couldn’t make out what each student was saying, you could still understand how ecstatic they all were to have won the match. Even Gryffindor was cheering, simply happy to have seen such an intense match.  

“And Slytherin wins, folks! What an amazing match!”

“We won! We won!” T.J cheered, ignoring the fact that, since they were cheering for both teams, they would have won either way. Still, Magnus didn’t have the mind to tell him that because he was too busy cheering along with everyone else. Watching his friends play Quidditch gave him this adrenaline-filled feeling like his whole body was buzzing with energy begging to be released. If this is what it felt like for Sam to be flying out there, no wonder she loved it so much.

The stands emptied slowly as the teams went to their respective changing rooms and the students started leaving for dinner. Magnus was still high from the match. He remembered when he first came to Hogwarts, how excited he had been over the peculiar sport. He wrote to his mum after every single match and even though what he wrote must have made no sense whatsoever, she always seemed so happy to hear his rapid, excited rambling.

His mind wondering off to his mum brought Magnus back to the scary reality of what he had promised himself to do after the match.

Talk. He was going to talk to Sam.

A part of him told him not to. A part of him found excuses, how she must be tired, how he shouldn’t bring her down with his troubles after she just won a match. You can just tell her some other time, part of him said.

But Manus knew that if he listened to that part of him then he’d never speak to Sam. And he wasn’t sure how much more the bottle could hold before it burst.

One by one, the Slytherin team members left the locker rooms, excited for dinner after such a great match. Mallory, Halfborn, Alex and T.J were talking among themselves and even though Magnus was standing next to them he wasn’t paying any attention to what they were saying. The last Slytherin player left too, but Sam was still nowhere to be found.

“Hey, um, where is Sam?” Magnus asked. He really hoped he didn’t look like he felt. Like a nervous wreck.

“She’s still inside,” Mallory said, gesturing at the locker rooms with her thumb. “It’s her turn to tidy up the place today. We told her she didn’t have to do it since she won us the match, but you know what Sam is like.” She shrugged and went back to the conversation she was having with Halfborn.

“Oh, um, I’ll go check on her,” Magnus said as he slipped away from the group.

Inside, the locker room was, well, like any other locker room. There were white tiles everywhere and wooded benches as well as the ever present musky/sweaty smell that came with a room sweaty teenagers change clothes in. It was eerie to be in here without any of the other players (Magnus had come here with Sam once to cheer her on before a big game), especially when he only knew some of them from the locker room.

Magnus moved through the little rooms, like the boy’s and girl’s changing areas, the showers and this little lounge thing for before games, but Sam wasn’t there. Things were clean and tidy so she must have already finished with this.

He moved deeper inside the locker room. His heartbeat was getting faster and faster and his flight instinct was going crazy. Dread settled in his throat like heavy, gooey slime and it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to swallow it down.

He reached an open door with a sign on it that read “Sports equipment”. He heard moving around and rattling from inside and, with the eagerness of a man heading to his execution, stepped inside.

Sam was on top of a stool, putting away some spare Quidditch things Magnus didn’t know the name of. Her back was to him and she hadn’t noticed him yet. If his flight instinct was going crazy before, now it had gone completely haywire. He bit his lip anxiously. He felt so frightened, like it was his first day of school again and he both wanted and was afraid of going. He was just a scared little child that wanted his mummy, even if he knew she couldn’t be here to tell him everything was fine.

Yet, scared or not, Magnus took a step closer and made himself known.

“Um, Sam?”

She turned around to look at him. He green hijab, now pulling around her neck, rustled as she moved. “Oh, Magnus. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” Deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”

Maybe it was the tone in his voice, maybe it was that he held himself like a frightened rabbit, maybe it was that nothing good ever came out of “I need to talk to you”. Whatever the reason, Sam’s carefree expression disappeared completely.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as she moved closer to him. Her brows were furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them like every time she was worried about something.

“It’s- “his voice broke, “it’s about my mum.”

The wrinkle became even deeper. Sam’s arms were held in front of her body, like she wanted to reach out to Magnus but she was afraid he’d crack if she touched him. He felt like he would.

“What you said. B-back at Valhalla. She’s not sick.” Another deep breath. And another. They came out shaky, shivering, like leaves in the wind.

“She’s dead.”

Sam didn’t talk. She didn’t gasp or anything like that. She stayed quiet, so quiet it was like Magnus was on his own. Even if she wasn’t standing next to him, he wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were glued to the ground, to a dirty spot in the floor that was getting blurrier every second.

When Sam finally talked, it was quiet and breathless, as though she couldn’t even begin to phantom what she was hearing. “When?”

“T-this summer,” Magnus continued. The cork was off the bottle and he couldn’t put it back even if he wanted to. “We- we were going to go camping the next day. I had gone to bed early so I wouldn’t be tired and- and- When I woke up, when mum woke me up, there-there was smoke. Smoke and-and heat and” a sob tore its way out of his throat, “Mum- she told me to get up and-and we ran to the door but then part of the ceiling collapsed.”

Magnus hadn’t realized it, too deep in his memories, but Sam had led him to the stool she had been using and sat him down. She rubbed his back but all it did was remind Magnus of his mum doing the same when he cried and his sobs came harder.

“We ran for the fire escape. We-we were almost there when-“ Magnus felt like he was going to throw up. “The ceiling collapse again. On-on mum.”

A small gasp came from Sam but Magnus kept going.

It was like he was there again. Their small apartment, the place where Magnus had made so many happy memories, turned into a fiery inferno. Smoke and heat and flames everywhere and Magnus was scared, so scared. His tears dried on his cheeks from the heat and his mum held his hand, telling him it was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. They would get out of there.

They didn’t. He did.

“S-she was trapped and-and I tried to get her out but-“ Another sob tore his body in half. “I wasn’t s-strong enough. She-she told me to run. She t-told me she’d be right b-behind me. I-I grabbed my b-backpack a-and jumped out the window. I la-landed in the ga-garbage bin and I-I looked up e-expecting her to come- but-“

It hurts. Stop. It hurts.

“The-the window ex-exploded.”

Please stop. Stop, please. It hurts.

“She didn’t come out.”

Sam was holding him close, hugging him. Her body shook with silent sobs and Magnus felt her tears soak the back of his shirt. They stayed like that, hugging, crying rivers, oceans. Sam didn’t speak. No ‘I’m sorry’, no nothing. Sam knew what it was like to lose your mother. She knew that ‘I’m sorry’s felt like empty words.

She knew there was nothing she could do right now except holding Magnus as he cried his heart out.

Magnus wasn’t sure how long he was crying. It could have been a few minutes or it could have been days and he wouldn’t have noticed the difference. He cried and cried, leaving wet trails down his cheeks, and he didn’t even know he had this many tears in him.

Magnus was crying, still crying, when his friends appeared on the door. Whatever they were going to say –about where Magnus and Sam were this whole time, about missing dinner if they didn’t hurry up- died in their throats when they saw their two friends close together, crying like it was the end of the world.

Alex wasn’t hesitant to touch Magnus, not like Sam had been. Then again, he was completely wrecked now. There was nothing for her to break.

First it was Alex, then T.J, Mallory and Halfborn. They rushed forward, not a word spoken, and hugged Magnus and Sam. They didn’t know what was happening, and they didn’t really need too. What they knew was that their friend was a crying mess and maybe, just maybe they could put all the broken pieces of him back together if they hugged him hard enough.

Magnus thought of what people always said when you couldn’t move on from a loved one’s death. How they wouldn’t want you trapped in the past, how they would want you to move on. He wondered if his mother was somewhere out there, anywhere, watching Magnus happily, glad he made the first step.

He liked the idea she was.

Magnus stayed there, crying in the smelly Quidditch storage room as his friends and his mother’s memory held him close.

[usamotorscycle-blog]

Beginner-Ish Sportbike Shootout

From the title alone, there’s a good chance new riders are intently combing through each word of this shootout. The beginner bike market is one the manufacturers value dearly, and for decades Kawasaki has owned this corner of the market with its EX/Ninja 250, and now the current Ninja 300. Honda finally followed suit in 2010, introducing the CBR250R as a 2011 model, and later, in 2014, the CBR300R as a 2015. Now the floodgates have opened, as both KTM and Yamaha have launched their own small-displacement sportbikes – the RC390 and YZF-R3, respectively – to try to grab a slice of that pie. If it weren’t for the crop of highly advanced literbikes coming out this year, a strong argument could be made for 2015 being the year of the entry-level sportbike. Meanwhile, more experienced riders probably don’t care. Those bikes are way too slow for me. I’d get bored with them in no time. This is likely the tune they’re singing. Here’s the thing: your humble MO staff has several decades of riding under their collective belt, on everything from 50cc scooters to fire-breathing superbikes. After hopping off each of these “beginner” bikes, whether on the street or the racetrack, we couldn’t stop smiling. All are genuine hoots to ride, no matter your skill level. Beginners will appreciate the gentle learning curve each provides, while more experienced pilots will get their jollies off wringing the necks out of each of ’em. As former MO staffer, and now MO columnist, Gabe Ets-Hokin describes in his Skidmarks column, it’s simply a blast to a slow bike fast. Alas, you didn’t come here to read about a four-way tie. You want to know how each bike stacks up. Are the Honda and Kawasaki, with their smaller engines, outgunned against the Yamaha and KTM? Will the Yamaha pose any threat to the Austrian RC390? Or is this all pointless because the KTM is going to rule the roost, anyway. Spoiler alert: The KTM is not our winner. 2013 Beginner Sportbike Shootout + Video For this test, we commuted with each bike, both around town and on the freeway, and also took them for a loop around some of our favorite mountain roads. Just for kicks, since these are sportbikes after all, we ventured out to Chuckwalla Valley Raceway to join our friends at Moto Forza for one of their low-key, well-run trackdays. Joining me are my esteemed MO colleagues John Burns and Tom Roderick, as well as honorary MOron, Thai Long Ly.

Not surprisingly, the KTM’s displacement advantage is clearly evident on the dyno. The Honda may have the least displacement, but its graph looks very smooth, a sign of good EFI programming and a modest state of tune. Most surprising is how evenly matched the Yamaha and Kawasaki are, the Ninja almost equalling the R3 in power, but the blue bike having a stronger midrange. It should be noted that all four bikes were fitted with the same Pirelli Diablo Rosso II tires, in stock sizes. The upgrade in rubber over the standard stuff on the Japanese bikes (the KTM already comes stock with the Pirellis) placed all four bikes on a level playing field and dramatically improved handling performance on the Honda, Kawasaki and Yamaha, inspiring confidence in the rider to lean farther and with more aggression. Had all bikes been tested with the stock rubber, the KTM’s deficits likely would have been overshadowed by the inferior tires of the others. Another interesting topic of note: All four motorcycles were built somewhere other than their home countries as a way to keep prices as low as possible. The Honda and Kawasaki are built in Thailand, the Yamaha in Indonesia, and the KTM in India. So What Does It Cost? Model Base MSRP Paint Options ABS Honda CBR300R $4,399 Black, Red, Pearl White/Red/Blue, Matte Black Metallic/Yellow $4,899 Kawasaki Ninja 300 $4,999 Lime Green, Pearl Stardust White $5,299 KTM RC390 $5,499 N/A Standard Yamaha YZF-R3 $4,990 Raven, Team Yamaha Blue/Matte Silver, Rapid Red N/A As usual, we turned to our trusty MO ScoreCard to convert our subjective thoughts into a numbered score, then added those to our objective metrics like price and wet weight. And now, the results…

The picture is relatively similar on the torque front, with the KTM outgunning the field. The dips and valleys of the KTM’s line point towards fueling that could use some tweaking. The Honda’s peak torque, meanwhile, is roughly the same as the KTM’s lowest point. Then there’s the Kawi and Yamaha; the former flowing up and down, while the latter’s midrange trumps that of its Japanese rivals.

Honda CBR300R 77.8%

$4,399 (ABS: $4,899)

It’s too bad somebody has to finish in last place, but at least this was the one prediction the four testers made before the test that actually panned out. The Honda’s 286cc Thumper is the smallest here, and its 26.3 hp and 17.5 lb-ft. of torque simply can’t keep up with the might of the others. We all knew the Honda would have a fight on its hands, but by virtue of its smallest price tag and 356-pound wet weight, the lightest here, it warranted inclusion. Sure enough, both on the street and track it was very easy to flick from side to side, despite a 25.0º rake, the second-laziest behind the 27.0º Kawasaki. Still, it struggled to keep pace with the others. Though to dwell on the Honda’s performance shortcomings would be doing the bike an incredible disservice. At 30.7 inches, its seat height is tied with the Yamaha’s for the lowest here. Combine that with well-tuned EFI, comfortable ergos and a clutch lever that can almost be pulled with one finger, and the CBR300R is perhaps the ideal bike to learn on. It doesn’t hurt that it glides from one gear to the next and that I believe its brakes are the best in the bunch.

The lack of power is simply too much for the Honda to overcome on the track. If it had more oomph, its great brakes and lightest curb weight could be better exploited. “Any absolute beginner should be all over this bike,” chimes Thai. “The fact that it is comfortable, has excellent fuel economy and makes for a wonderful commuter means that combined with its ABS and low seat height, any neophyte should feel supremely confident petting such a toothless animal.” Its soft suspension means you’ll hardly feel the crappy city streets you’ll be buzzing through on your way to class. Speaking of buzz, somehow Honda found a way to make sure you don’t feel any of them coming from the Single – even while turning 8500 rpm at 80 mph on the freeway. It’s quite remarkable and in stark contrast to the similarly-cylindered KTM. From an ergo perspective, even Chief Complainer Roderick had nice things to say. “The CBR is light and small but remains comfortable for a tester of my 5-foot 11-inch, 180-pound dimensions. Riding the CBR is more comfortable than riding the KTM.”

On the streets, the CBR is friendly, agreeable, and a fantastic pick for the absolute rookie looking to dip their toes in the sportbike market. So if it’s cheap, economical and noob-friendly motorcycling you’re going for, the Honda CBR300R is it. Otherwise, the little CBR is a little bland. Not that that’s a bad thing, says Thai. “What’s wrong with a bike that’s as hardcore as an open air Yanni concert on a rainy night? Nothing. Yanni sells millions of albums just like Honda will sell boatloads of CBR300R’s.” + Highs Best bike for the true beginner looking for economical transportation. Best price. Highly maneuverable. – Sighs Least power. Outgunned in this company Overshadowed by the others.

KTM RC390 81.8%

$5,499

Thai, like the rest of us, had high hopes for the RC390 before this test started. “This is the bike that I figured would be the king of the castle, even before inserting the key. With all the hype surrounding the little thumper my expectational cup ran full and the numbers on paper seemed to support this foregone conclusion.” When it came time to perform, however, the hyped-up athlete delivered just a mediocre performance. Needless to say we had high expectations for the KTM, and for it to finish just slightly ahead of the Honda might seem puzzling at first, but allow us to explain. Let’s start with the good. With 39.7 hp and 24.6 lb-ft., the 373cc Thumper is class of the field. It’s also second lightest, behind the Honda, at 364 lbs. This combination means the KTM leaves the others behind once you twist the throttle. The Single’s torque easily pulls you out of most situations on the street and feels lively when you’re accelerating through the twisties. On track, the top-end advantage means the others couldn’t keep up – at least in a straight line.

As the most track-focused of the four, the KTM RC390 sports the most aggressive geometry numbers. This is clear in how eager the RC likes to flick from side to side. Wide, relatively low bars and a willing chassis make the RC390 very anxious to dive into turns. The RC390 sports a 23.5º rake, the sharpest here, and a 52.8-inch wheelbase, besting the Honda and Yamaha by 1.5 inches, and the Kawi by 2.5 inches. Unfortunately, despite impressive geometry figures, the RC is let down by sub-par suspension bits, especially the shock, which sits precariously close to the hot exhaust. Our resident sleuth, Sherlock Burns, theorizes the heat may compromise the shock’s oil. As he explains: “Maybe it’s only a rear shock away from being much better, but you’ll need to replace the exhaust too because there’s not even enough room for a heat shield between the two. You can feel how hot the shock gets compared to the other bikes’. I was closing up on yous two on it at Chuckwalla at one point, when I hit that bump at the exit of Turn 1 (which I didn’t really know was there on the other bikes) and got sideways two laps in a row because of a complete lack of rebound damping and scared the pee out of myself. With 40 hp compared to 35 for the Twins and less weight, it should lap quite a bit faster. It really doesn’t.”

The distinctly orange KTM trellis frame houses, among other things, a preload adjustable WP shock. Note its close proximity to the exhaust hump in black directly in front. We theorize exhaust heat could be affecting the shock’s damping abilities, as its lack of rebound damping saps confidence to push its limits. Kudos to KTM, though, for equipping the RC with Pirelli Diablo Rosso II tires, stock. There’s another demerit point in the braking department, too. “Surprisingly, the KTM’s brakes were my least favorite of this group,” says Roderick. The ByBre brakes may have been designed by Brembo, but the cheaper alternative was by far the worst in the test, getting demolished on the ScoreCard. They lacked both feel and stopping power – a bad combination. Ironically, the RC is the only one of the group that comes standard with ABS. Tom continues, “None of these bikes have top-shelf suspension, but we struggled getting the KTM to hook up at the track wearing the same tires as the other bikes.” The double whammy of bad brakes and weak suspension killed our confidence when trying to hustle the KTM around Chuckwalla. Burns wasn’t the only one sliding both ends in the corners, and while the engine gives a valiant effort, its supporting cast just isn’t up for the task. What happens when you put her on the road, away from the track? “She works well,” says Thai. “Like a pair of Chuck Taylors. Competent and serviceable. Though I’m not sure I’m willing to make such a race-inspired commitment when there are more comfortable options available when stepping away from the track environment.”

With its braking components designed by Brembo, including radial-mount caliper, steel-braided lines and standard ABS, one would think the RC would have stellar stopping power. Unfortunately, the KTM’s brakes are disappointing. At calmer street speeds, the KTM’s shortcomings aren’t as pronounced and are more manageable. When not flogging it through the canyons, it routinely gets over 50 mpg, our best being 56.3 mpg, but once you start playing in the high rev range, fuel goes fast. Our worst figure was 44 mpg. To make matters worse, the KTM only holds 2.6 gallons of gas, by far the least here. KTM’s not trying to hide the RC390’s intentions as a track-focused machine. “The racy nature of the KTM is apropos as it is the only bike here with its own racing series in America,” Tom notes. As part of the RC390 Cup series, one of the few permitted modifications is fully adjustable suspension. At the Corsa Moto Classica, Tom was speaking with Jim Doyle, team owner of G-Baby Racing, an all-girl amateur team who won the 2014 CMRA 2nd F2 Endurance Championship, who was in attendance racing the KTM RC390. They too struggled with rear grip and suspension problems, finding a solution by installing a JRi shock that they report has greatly increased rear suspension performance. According to Doyle, the JRi shock is a much smaller diameter than the stock shock, which gives it a bit of extra breathing/cooling room next to the exhaust. It also has a remote reservoir, which would further cool the shock and its oil.

At slower street speeds, our shock complaints aren’t as big a concern, though we’d still like more bite from the brakes. Roads like this are where the KTM thrives. For freeway slogging, best to go with one of the other three. Alas, this is a street test primarily, and as such, the KTM is a hard sell. It costs the most of the four, isn’t as comfy for the long haul, and puts out considerable vibes at freeway speeds compared to the others. But if your goal is to simply play at the track or the canyons, this is the one to get. With a sorted suspension and a toothier set of brake pads, the RC390 would be transformed. + Highs Most power and torque is fun to play with. Agile chassis likes to flick. Standard ABS – Sighs Cheap shock a real setback. Brakes need some help. Vibey on the freeway.

Yamaha YZF-R3 84.0%

$4,990

Yamaha might have waited a while to enter the beginner bike market in the U.S., but now that we’ve ridden the R3 we can say it was well worth the wait. Getting acclimated to the little Yamaha took no time at all.

Burns, declaring his age right there on his Arai (ok, not really), felt confident enough to whip the R3 around Chuckwalla largely due to the capable chassis and suspension. The Pirelli tires helped a lot, too. With the stock Michelin Pilot Street rubber, the rear tends to chatter rather easily at the track. Second only in displacement to the KTM, the Yamaha’s 321cc Twin pumps out 35 hp, virtually equal to the smaller Kawasaki. Torque is also marginally higher than the Kawi’s, 18.9 lb-ft. vs. 17.6 lb-ft., however the R3 carries more than 10 lbs less weight (370 lbs vs. the Ninja’s 381 lbs) and has a broader spread of torque throughout the rev range, leaving Tom to conclude, “The R3’s engine is torquier than the Kawasaki’s, making around-town operation easier.” Despite the apparent advantage the R3 engine has on the street over the Kawi, on track it was hardly noticeable. The Yamaha fades as the revs climb, whereas the inverse is true for the Ninja. “The larger engine and additional power of the Yamaha gives the R3 a minor power advantage, but not enough for me to get past Troy down the front straight at Chuckwalla,” Tom noted. “The R3 would inch closer, but to get past him would have taken a straightaway with twice the distance.”

An analog tachometer dominates the view from the R3’s gauge cluster, its needle easy to read even in glaring sunlight. We liked that Yamaha also included a gear position indicator on its entry-level sportbike; the costlier KTM was the only bike also equipped. It’s a game of splitting hairs in the handling department, as three of the four testers judged the R3 and Ninja dead even. Burns was the only defector, rating the R3 considerably lower, due to suspension that felt soft and under-damped and didn’t jibe with him. Overall though, for having beginner-bike suspension pieces, the R3 is well damped for track duty while still providing a comfortable ride on the freeway and riding over neglected downtown roads. Ergonomically, our testers were torn between the Kawi and Yamaha. The R3 provides a position ever-so-slightly less committed than the Ninja, which was preferred by both myself and Thai, with a seat that offers more support. At nearly 6-feet, Tom says, “The Ninja has the best seating position, ergonomics and legroom, but the Yamaha comes in a close second. The R3 also has better seat material that’s supportive as well as comforting.”

The Yamaha’s stopping power is decent, though feel could be a little better. The R3 stands out in this grouping because it’s the only one not offered with ABS, even as an option. Brakes are average, but more than good enough for the job. Unfortunately ABS isn’t available, not even as an option, and is a blemish for the R3, especially considering it’s optional on the Kawi and Honda and standard for the KTM. ABS aside, the R3 rated high amongst us. It’s gauge cluster looks the most modern, is easily readable, and even comes with a gear-position indicator. The KTM has one, too, but it’s harder to read. Even after a day of flogging in the canyons, we still managed 52 mpg from the R3. An average of 56 mpg was more common under normal riding. In the end, the Yamaha and Kawasaki are separated by one percentage point on the ScoreCard. Personally, the Yamaha came out on top in my scoring, but the other three disagree. And even though Tom scored the Ninja slightly higher, it’s not the bike he’d put in his garage.

The R3’s street-oriented engine characteristics mean a broad spread of power is available at the engine speeds you’re more likely to use on the street. It also has a well padded seat, and is more than capable of handling a curvy mountain road. With a score this tight, it all comes down to looks. Says Tom, “Not that I dislike the Ninja’s styling, but I’m more attracted to the looks of the R3. Being that most areas of comparison between the R3 and Ninja are so close, I’d probably buy the Yamaha because of this.” Alas, the Yamaha is a very close second favorite in this test. Why second? “Because, Ninja,” quips Thai. + Highs Great engine for the street. Comfortable around town or at the track. Not a bike you’ll grow out of quickly. – Sighs Mediocre brakes No ABS Engine barely more powerful than older, smaller Ninja.

Kawasaki Ninja 300 85.0%

$4,999 (ABS: $5,299)

Being the oldest bike here, we just assumed the others (save the Honda) would outgun it by virtue of having all this time to study what Kawasaki was doing and making something better. But, by the faintest of exhaust fumes Kawasaki has managed to hold onto the beginner- bike crown. If only just. The formula for the OG, Kawasaki Ninja 300, to come out on top in this test is quite simple, at least according to Thai. “How does old beat new? Can Rossi really take Marquez? Can Tom Brady outgun Russell Wilson? How does Gandhi dominate Justin Bieber? By simply being better. Then and now.”

The Kawasaki Ninja 300 is an example of age and experience trumping youth and exuberance. If only just. The Kawasaki, at 381 lbs, is the heaviest, but nobody complained about the bike’s girth in relation to the others, both on track and on the street. It’s impressive that, with only 296cc, the Ninjette puts out almost identical power figures to the Yamaha. However, “You really have to keep the Ninja’s parallel-Twin on the boil to get maximum performance,” says Tom. “On the track it’s a blast to ride, on the street the Yamaha’s Twin is torquier and more user-friendly.” Still, this didn’t deter our testers from singing the Kawasaki’s praises. The Ninja won eight categories on the ScoreCard, though admittedly with narrow margins over the Yamaha. Everyone loved how easy it was to ride, and ride quickly; its chassis and suspension more composed than any of us were expecting. The Ninjette punched above its weight, able to stick with the Yamaha on track while keeping the KTM honest. On the roads, the same lovable characteristics we liked on track carried over. The suspension is geared toward the soft side, but not overly so. The relative lack of torque means you need to rev it to really get a move on, but the gears click from one to the next easily. Better still, says Tom, “The Kawasaki is the only one that comes with a slipper clutch, a truly cool technology – especially for a 300 – that even the racier KTM does not offer.” We got a worst mpg rating of 54.3, with 60 being more common during average riding.

In contrast to the Yamaha, the Kawasaki comes alive once the revs pick up. Some more bottom end torque would be nice, but it still performed well enough for the majority of our testers to choose it as their favorite of the four. Ultimately, the Ninja 300 just works so damn well. Well enough to win our 2015 Entry-level Sportbike Shootout. “I’d forgotten how good the Ninja is since the last time I rode one when it was new,” Burns notes. “For being a ‘beginner bike’, it’s one of the best-polished, most dialed-in production bikes I’ve ridden. Nothing about it stands out, including its 35 hp, but all its systems seem perfectly integrated and balanced. Fuelling is excellent, both on and when you roll off the throttle. It’s smooth enough and its suspension is so nicely damped you can feel the weight transfer back and forth from front tire to rear in Chuckwalla’s corners, which lets you ride right on the edge of the tires, and its steering is the most accurate as a result of everything else. At first, the potty chair ergos feel like they’re not going to work at all on the track, but you adjust and within a lap it’s excellent with the grips right next to your ears. Big fun till some twat roars past on a Ducati, and then it’s still fun as you close back up on them mid-corner…” + Highs Punches well above its weight. Only one with slipper clutch. Comfy ergos, even for taller folks. – Sighs A little more torque wouldn’t hurt. Heaviest A little help here… Beginner-ish Sportbike Shootout Scorecard Category Honda CBR300R Kawasaki Ninja 300 KTM RC390 Yamaha YZF-R3 Price 100% 83.0% 80.0% 88.2% Weight 100% 93.5% 97.9% 96.3% lb/hp 67.7% 83.6% 100% 87.6% lb/lb-ft 72.6% 68.2% 100% 75.5% Engine 68.8% 90.6% 88.1% 88.1% Transmission/Clutch 79.4% 90.0% 84.4% 83.8% Handling 80.0% 91.3% 77.5% 88.1% Brakes 82.5% 88.8% 72.5% 83.8% Suspension 78.8% 83.1% 61.3% 80.0% Technologies 62.5% 73.8% 81.3% 62.5% Instruments 77.5% 80.0% 76.3% 82.5% Ergonomics/Comfort 83.8% 87.5% 75.0% 85.6% Quality, Fit & Finish 80.0% 82.5% 77.5% 81.3% Cool Factor 71.3% 78.8% 87.5% 84.4% Grin Factor 65.0% 86.3% 80.0% 86.3% Overall Score 77.8% 85.0% 81.8% 84.0% Beginner-ish Sportbike spec chart Honda CBR300R Kawasaki Ninja 300 ABS KTM RC390 Yamaha R3 MSRP $4,399 (ABS: $4,899) $4,999 (ABS: $5,299) $5,499 $4,990 Type 286cc liquid-cooled four-stroke Single 296cc liquid-cooled four-stroke parallel-Twin 373cc liquid-cooled four-stroke Single, forged piston 321cc liquid-cooled four stroke parallel-Twin Bore x Stroke 76.0mm x 63.0mm 62.0mm x 49.0mm 89.0mm x 6.00mm 68.0mm x 44.1mm Fuel System EFI, 38mm throttle body EFI, dual 32mm throttle bodies EFI EFI Ignition Computer-controlled digital transistorized with electronic advance Electronic Digital Transistor Controlled Ignition Valve Train DOHC; 4 valves per cylinder DOHC, 4 valves per cylinder DOHC; 4 valves per cylinder DOHC, 4 valves per cylinder Horsepower 26.3 @8400 rpm 34.6 @ 10,800 rpm 39.7 @ 8900 rpm 35.3 @ 10,800 rpm Torque (claimed) 17.5 lb-ft @ 6700 rpm 17.6 lb-ft @ 9,700 rpm 24.6 @ 7100 rpm 18.9 lb-ft @9,200 rpm Transmission 6-speed 6-speed with positive neutral finder, slipper clutch 6-speed, stacked transmission shafts 6-speed Front Suspension 37mm fork; 4.65 in. travel 37mm fork, 4.7 in. travel, no adjustments 43mm WP inverted fork, 4.9 in. travel, no adjustments 41mm KYB fork, 5.1 in. travel, no adjustments Rear Suspension Single shock, 5-position preload adjustable, 4.07 in. travel Single shock, 5-way adjustable preload, 5.2 in. travel Single WP shock, spring preload adjustable, 5.9 in. travel KYB single shock, preload adjustable, 4.9 in. travel Front Brake Single 296mm disc (ABS optional) Single 290mm petal-type disc, twin-piston caliper (ABS optional) Single 300mm disc, ByBre radial-mount four-piston caliper, switchable ABS standard Single 298mm disc, twin-piston caliper Rear Brake Single 220mm disc (ABS optional) Single 220mm petal-type disc, twin-piston caliper (ABS optional) Single 230mm disc, ByBre single-piston caliper, switchable ABS standard Single 220mm disc, single-piston caliper Front Tire 110/70-17 110/70-17 110/70-17 110/70-17 Rear Tire 140/70-17 140/70-17 150/60-17 140/70-17 Wheelbase 54.3 in. 55.3 in. 52.8 in. 54.3 in. Rake 25.3º 27.0º 23.5º 25.0º Trail 3.9 in. 3.7 in. 3.5 in. 3.7 in. Seat Height 30.7 in. 30.9 in. 32.3 in. 30.7 in. Curb Weight 356.5 lbs. 381.4 lbs. 364.3 lbs. 370.3 lbs. Fuel Capacity 3.4 gal. 4.5 gal. 2.6 gal. 3.7 gal. Tested Fuel Economy 63.6 mpg 54.3 mpg 56.3 mpg 55.1 mpg Available Colors Black, Red, Pearl White/Red/Blue, Matte Black Metallic/Yellow Lime Green, Pearl Stardust White NA Raven, Team Yamaha Blue/Matte Silver, Rapid Red Warranty NA One-year, limited warranty NA One-year, limited warranty Click to Post

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500 Miles in the 2017 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 Convertible and Coupe

CONCORD, North Carolina – Contrived? Maybe just a little. But Chevrolet’s idea to give us a 2017 Camaro ZL1 to drive to Daytona Beach, Florida, made sense once the company added up the numbers: 650 for 500 to the 500.

As in 650 horsepower from the supercharged LT4 6.2-liter V-8. As in 500 miles from Concord, which is just north of Charlotte, to Daytona Beach. And 500 again, as in the Daytona 500, where two Chevrolets would start on the front row, both from Hendrick Motorsports – more about that in a moment – which would follow the Camaro ZL1 pace car to the green flag, driven by the semi-retired Jeff Gordon, who won four NASCAR championships for Hendrick and Chevrolet. Tidy!

It would be nice for Chevrolet if we could report the brand won the Daytona 500, but of course it didn’t. Polesitter Chase Elliott ran out of gas, allowing Stewart-Haas driver Kurt Busch to get past for his first win in the first race after the four-car Stewart-Haas team switched from Chevrolet to Ford.

Unfortunately for Ford, though, as nice as the 526-horsepower 2017 Mustang Shelby GT350 is, Chevrolet’s ZL1 has the clear, latest advantage in the 50-year Pony Car wars. Yes, Dodge has the delightful 707-horsepower Challenger Hellcat, but the chassis and aerodynamics are a few years behind the hottest Camaro and Mustang.

The main appeal of this trip – aside from the obvious driving-a-hotrod-to-a-NASCAR-race – was to see how well the ZL1 handled a 500-mile drive in a day. Which brings us back to the first stop last Wednesday night: Hendrick Motorsports, home of current NASCAR drivers Dale Earnhardt Jr., Kasey Kahne, Elliott, and seven-time NASCAR Monster Energy Cup Series champion Jimmie Johnson.

Not surprisingly, Hendrick Motorsports was a ghost town, with most of the key players in Daytona. A handful of employees in the shop that houses the cars for Johnson and Earnhardt banged on bodies and measured shells with templates, likely working on cars for soon-to-come races in Atlanta and Las Vegas.

But that didn’t matter, as we came to see the massive Hendrick Heritage Center, which is not open to the public, no pictures allowed – though if you buy a car from the Heritage Center, you get a tour. Vehicles available for purchase range from a 1990 Chevrolet Suburban ($39,990) to Gordon’s 2006 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, a four-time Martinsville NASCAR winner, for $400,000.

The Heritage Center – and this is not to be confused with Hendrick’s 15,000-square-foot museum, which is open to the public–is absolutely packed with an eclectic collection of stuff that either has a personal meaning to Rick Hendrick, or that he just likes. There’s a 1977 Pontiac Trans Am “Smokey and the Bandit” car that Mrs. Hendrick bought for Rick, which has just double-digit miles, and there’s a beautiful 1961 Corvette, Hendrick’s first of a multitude of Corvettes. Of just more than 200 vehicles here, half are Corvettes. And the most amazing part of the Heritage Center collection is the number of specific Corvettes which are Hendrick’s favorite: 1967, 427-powered Stingrays. Thirty-seven of them. And every vehicle in the collection is ready to run at the turn of a key.

If you have ever driven a Corvette powered by a 427-cubic-inch engine – and we’re talking any 427, not just the holy-grail L7, 435-horsepower Tri-Power version – you know the car was a rocket on the highway but ponderous around town, threatening to overheat or foul a plug or par-boil its two occupants in warm weather. It shook, it rattled, it roared, and it often took little more than a Sunday drive to cause the Corvette-loving husband to trade in his big-block prize on something more docile, or face divorce. Apologies if this sounds sexist, but men who expected a hundred-pound wife to embrace a four-speed, 427 Corvette as her daily driver better have married Shirley Muldowney.

Which brings us to the 650-horsepower Camaro ZL1: It’s a car that, if you have two very short friends that can fit on the package shelf that passes for a rear seat, is absolutely delighted to carpool around Manhattan. Especially with the new 10-speed automatic transmission, which, we’ll go ahead and tell you now, is the single most impressive feature of the 2017 ZL1. It replaces the eight-speed automatic we had in the 640-horsepower Cadillac CTS-V a few weeks ago, the only feature we came back complaining about after a 700-mile weekend in the Caddy. It tended to shudder slightly as it hit eighth gear, and the engine dropped back to four cylinders to save gas. No such problem in the ZL1, but not much in the way of gas savings, either: Our mileage ran pretty close to the grim EPA ratings of 12 mpg city, 20 highway for the automatic, and 14 city and 20 highway for the six-speed manual.

Buy the automatic, and you’ll pay $1,595 more than the manual, and $2,100 in the federal “gas guzzler” tax ($1,300 for the six-speed). This brought the sticker of our loaded ZL1 convertible with the automatic to $72,325. The six-speed coupe we drove, which had a base price of $62,135, was about $5,000 more than that out the door.

And speaking of out the door, we were Thursday morning, after a briefing on the car. AUTOMOBILE magazine has already given you the details in a couple of stories; this time our job was to tell you how it all worked on an actual trip.

The first half of the 500 miles, we spent in the aforementioned six-speed coupe, which was optioned heavily, including the $495 MyLink audio system with navigation, and an 8-inch touchscreen. It’s nice to see the prices of nav systems dropping in view of the fact that we all have smartphones, or lacking that, a perfectly satisfactory $89 TomTom from Walmart.

The six-speed manual is well-matched to the engine’s prodigious power. The shifter itself is stiff, but the car was brand-new, and after a few thousand miles it’ll be fine. Clutch action is firm but doesn’t require a lot of pressure, though take-up is a little abrupt.

Especially, as I learned, if you don’t know how to drive a manual, as my car-mate did not, or at least hadn’t driven one in years. Clutch take-up is really abrupt then, until you get the hang of modulation. Or don’t. Either way, we made it to the checkpoint unscathed, where we swapped the coupe for a convertible, also gray, as the Ferrari red and yellow models tend to be Highway Patrol magnets.

The convertible top drops and raises quickly, and works at speeds up to 30 mph. Wind buffeting is present but tolerable even at 80 mph and beyond. Inside, the Recaro seats, standard, are superb – thin and light as you would expect in a performance car “looking after” its weight (4,148 pounds with the automatic in convertible form, 200 pounds lighter than its predecessor), but comfortable and supportive even after a long day in the cockpit. Instruments and controls are reasonably intuitive, but having just come out of a 2017 Lexus GS F, they seemed more complex than necessary.

Coupe or convertible, outward visibility remains an issue with the Camaro, though admittedly lowering the top adds to your sightline. The new Camaro is better-looking than the previous version, especially the wide-bodied model used here to squeeze the massive, very capable Goodyear F1 Supercar tires under their respective fenders, but it’s still quite high-waisted. Even at a height of six feet, resting my arm in the open window is less comfortable than I wish it was, because given the ZL1’s exhaust note, I’d drive it with windows down a lot.

As mentioned, as we cruised down Interstate 95 past the Florida state line toward Daytona Beach, that 10-speed automatic, which we feared would be annoyingly busy, was anything but. It is a transparent transmission, seemingly in the right gear no matter the circumstance. It’s a winner.

And so is the magnetic-ride suspension, which continues to prove its worth in most every application: stiff when you want it to be, and pretty compliant when you don’t, it’s a genuinely all-purpose system that, matched to the big Brembo brakes, works equally well on the track and on the street. Even in the stiffest setting, the ride was tolerable on the Interstate. Nicely done.

So we made it to Daytona Beach in the Camaro ZL1, if not quite to Daytona International Speedway, where – since the Daytona 500 is a restrictor-plate race – we would have arrived with more horsepower than any car NASCAR had at the track this weekend, and for that matter, at least as much horsepower as any entry in the Rolex 24 at Daytona sports-car endurance race a few weeks ago. It’s a right of passage for any high-horse street car to drive through the long turn-one tunnel under the track and, um, demonstrate what the car sounds like under heavy acceleration. Didn’t get that chance. Maybe next time.

And speaking of next time: Saturday afternoon, Chevrolet surprised all of us on the trip when it unveiled the 2018 Camaro ZL1 with the 1LE package. In short, if you just order a 2017 ZL1, you have already been trumped.

The 1LE is street-legal, with air conditioning and all that, but it’s an absolutely dedicated track rat with a suspension developed by Multimatic (the company that builds the new Ford GT), and many of the mounting points on the ZL1 that are cushioned by a nice rubber bushing are virtually metal-to-metal on the ZL1 1LE. This means supreme stiffness on the track (good!) and supreme stiffness on your daily drive (maybe not so good! See reference to 427 Corvette above).

The engine still has 650 horsepower, but extra speed is found with other devices: The suspension, front and rear, is adjustable. There’s a huge, but non-adjustable carbon-fiber wing out back that makes about 300 pounds of downforce, double the ZL1’s smaller spoiler. The nose is redesigned for aero and cooling. The ZL1 1LE is about 60 pounds lighter due to an even less-accommodating rear seat and thinner rear glass, plus the wheels are lighter, as is the suspension. The six-speed manual is the only transmission offered. This car will not impact the new Camaro GT4 race car, just introduced for competition in the IMSA WeatherTech SportsCar Championship and the Pirelli World Challenge–that car was developed with this 1LE in mind.

Chevy wouldn’t say how quick the ZL1 1LE is, but allowed that it is three seconds quicker around the GM test track at the Milford Proving Grounds in Michigan. It seems likely that with the extra downforce it won’t be able to match the current ZL1’s 200 mph top speed, but it will get around a closed course quicker.

Former NASCAR champion Gordon, who drove the ZL1 pace car for the Daytona 500, was present at the ZL1 1LE’s unveiling, and revealed that he “loves it,” and plans to buy one, likely from Jeff Gordon Chevrolet, Wilmington, North Carolina, hours 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.

So the Daytona 500 ended with a Ford in front, followed by a Ford, and a Chevrolet (A.J. Allmendinger, of all people), another Ford, and a Chevrolet in fifth (Paul Menard), rounding out a top-five that, if you bet those five drivers in that order in Las Vegas, you made a lot of money.

Even so, Chevrolet made a lot of noise in Daytona. And would have made more had they allowed us to hang onto a Camaro ZL1 for the whole race weekend.

2017 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 Convertible Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $70,235/$72,325 (base/as tested) (includes gas-guzzler tax) ENGINE 6.2L supercharged OHV 16-valve V-8/650 hp @ 6,400 rpm, 650 lb-ft @ 3,600 rpm TRANSMISSION 10-speed automatic LAYOUT 2-door, 4-passenger, front-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 12/20 (city/hwy) (automatic) L x W x H 188.3 x 74.7 x 52.4 in WHEELBASE 110.7 in WEIGHT 4,118 lb (automatic) 0-60 MPH 3.5 sec (automatic) TOP SPEED 198 mph (automatic)

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