#but riding my bike is cheaper

[gophergal]

*cries* everything is so expensive

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 42 - TO THE RESCUE

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Y'all, this episode. Holy crap. I know it's not a very long one and not much in terms of plot happens compared to previous episodes, but it's one that I've been looking forward to for ages now because it gave me the opportunity to pay tribute to that original sequence in S1, a sequence that captivated so many fans and former fans of the comic such as myself (I had the final panel as my phone background for like 2 years LMAO). Being able to redraw that scene with our own twist on it was such an amazing process, made all the better by @banshriek's amazing contributions in the background art (seriously, the background art is CARRYING this episode, I'm so grateful and proud of their work and how much they've contributed to this little spite project).

What also helped immensely was our recent anon savior who provided us with so many brush names and design notes for how they're used in LO, we had waaay too much fun using these brushes every chance we got LOL and we're gonna continue to use them because goddamn they're beautiful. Buckle up because the new year is gonna be LIT (•̀⌄•́)

In other news, halfway through the production of this episode I finally replaced my PC drawing tablet! I'm still using my Huion Kamvas 22 Plus as a monitor, but in searching for a new screen tablet, I got cold feet and decided to settle for a cheaper desk tablet instead, a Huion Inspiroy Giano. So far it's great, it's a bit on the larger side which I didn't fully realize when I bought it, so it's taken quite a bit of adjusting (plus I haven't used a desk tablet as my main drawing tool in... geez, 8 years??) but it's like riding a bike, you never really forget LOL So yeah, it's gonna make my drawing workflow a lot faster and more efficient now that I don't have to rely purely on my iPad (goodbye touch screen mishaps, hello keyboard shortcuts!) so I'm hoping it'll show in the episodes to come!

Thank you all so much for reading ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Four - Sunflower

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter

The only thing you feel when you wake up is wet. 

You had fallen asleep on Abby's shoulder so, she checks that your head is okay before she gets up from the floor. “What the fuck, Ellie!”

Both of your clothes are soaking wet, making them cling to your bodies. 

Ellie shrugs, “You two were out like a light. The only way I could wake you guys up was with water.”

“You could have shaken us awake. Not waterboard us!”

“Right, well, I need you two out of here before my parents get home. I don’t want people here when they yell at me for having a party…again.” 

Abby outstretches her hand and you gladly take it. She helps you get off the now soaking-wet floor. 

The two of you walk down the stairs, careful not to trip on puddles of beer, and make your way outside. The contrast between the dark house and the bright sunlight makes you squint your eyes. 

“How are you getting home?” Abby asks as she grabs her keys. They jingle as she grabs them from the carabiner clipped to her jeans. 

“My bike.” You point at the space where you parked your bike last night. Abby looks at you confused. When you look over, your heart drops. Your bike is nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck!” 

You turn and bang on Ellie’s door. Seconds later, Ellie opens it with a hand on her hip.

“What?” You can tell that she’s on edge. Whatever her parents will do to her is clouding her mind so nothing else matters to her right now.

“Have you seen my bike?” You point to the space where your bike was. 

“That was your bike? Some guy drove off with it last night. I thought it was his so I didn’t say anything. Sorry about that.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like?” “TBH, I was fucking zooted so I don’t remember that part.” You thank Ellie for her time and collapse on her lawn. The shoes you are wearing were okay for biking but terrible for walking. The twenty-minute bike ride from Ellie’s house to yours just tripled. It would take you an hour to walk home. You really hoped that the asshole who took your bike ate shit in front of everyone at school. 

“Do you need a ride home?” Abby asks.

"No,” you lie. You would like a ride home but don’t want to be a burden. 

Abby can see right through your lie. “You are not walking home in those shoes,” she says. 

She’s right. No matter how much you’ve walked in platforms, walking an hour in them would be terrible for your feet. The only person you knew who could do that was Carrie Bradshaw and she wasn’t real.

“Get in the car.” Abby opens the door for you and closes it once you’re tucked inside. The leather seats are cracked, adding to the vintage charm. There are two CDs in the open glove compartment and a pack of gum. Once Abby’s inside the car, she reaches over you and closes it. 

“Sorry,” she says, “My car is a mess.” 

“It’s okay. You should see my room,” you joke. 

Your mother thought that your room was messy when in reality, it was only a little cluttered. Your entire desk is filled with little trinkets and memories from your past life. Clothes are thrown all over the floor from playing dress up one too many times and sometimes paper lays flatly on the floor if you’re too lazy to pick it up. 

“I didn’t know you collect CDs,” you add. 

“Yeah, I do. It’s cheaper than collecting vinyl,” Abby shrugs.

Abby turns the music up a little bit. Some new pop artist is playing and she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, enjoying the music. The car is silent except for the music playing on the radio. 

You can’t believe the two of you were caught like that on the floor. Laying your head on Abby’s shoulder was innocent enough but the fact that the two of you fell asleep like that got to you. You didn’t even drink anything last night so there was no reason why you slept in. Then you remembered why you didn’t drink anything last night. You spilled your drink all over Owen. 

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and began to chew on it out of fear. What would Abby think when she found out that you spilled a drink on her boyfriend's t-shirt? Would she hate you and never want to talk to you again? Or would she also call you a bitch and hate you forever? Maybe if you came clean she would admire the fact that you were a real friend who never hid secrets from her.

“I have to tell you something,” you huffed out a nervous breath.

“Yes?”

“I spilled a drink on Owen last night.”

“On his J.Crew shirt? That ass.” She shook her head. “It was his favorite shirt and I told him not to wear it to parties anymore because someone would spill something on it. That’s what he gets for not listening to me,” Abby laughed. 

You let out a breath that you didn’t even notice you were holding in and laughed along with her.

“So, we’re cool?” 

Abby nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

You shook your head and looked out the window, “No reason.” 

By the way that every house on the street looked the same, you knew that you were close to your own. You look over at Abby, confused. 

“How do you know where I live? I never told you my address.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Owen told me you lived by him in the house that just sold.” She bit her lip. 

Abby pulls up in your driveway and you almost curse out loud. Both of your parents' cars are in the driveway. Even though they’re never home, they've given you a curfew. You must be home before 12 in the morning and according to your phone, it is currently 10 am. You were so fucked. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you slip out of her truck.

Abby smiles, “Anytime. And I’m sorry about your bike.”

Abby waits until you’re inside of your house to pull off. Instead of going to the left, she turns right towards Owen’s house. You feel the tugging in your heart when you see the two of them together. It shouldn’t bother you that they’re spending time together but it does. You can’t quite put your feelings into words but they aren’t nice.

"Where have you been and why are you wet?” your mother asks, her arms crossed. 

“Since when do you care?” you shoot back. 

“Some partners from the firm are coming over and we need you to be here,” your father rubs the bridge of his nose, annoyed at your rebellious tone. 

“Why? So we can play happy little family again. No thanks, I have plans.” 

You walk past them and into your room. You don’t have plans but you’d rather walk all the way to hell and back than play into their little act. 

You change into dry and clean clothes, grab your bag, and head out the door. You have no idea how to use public transportation but you’ll figure it out today. 

Your parents don’t argue as you walk out of the door. Some weird part of you wants them to call for you but you know them. You know that they don’t want to waste more of their breath on you.

You don’t care where you’re going. You just need to get away. You take the first bus you see and ride it till the end of the line. It drops you off at a public park. Children scream with glee as they play on the playground, people walk their dogs along the sidewalk, and couples enjoy the cool breeze as they sit and enjoy each other's company. And then it hits you, that weird feeling inside of you that you get when you want something you can’t have. It makes you sit down and watch as the small waves flow through the small duck pond.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Monday comes around, and you’re in the library with Abby. It’s the first day of tutoring and both of you are nervous. You want to be a good teacher and Abby wants to soak up all the knowledge she can. 

“So, what do you struggle with the most?” You ask, getting ready to take notes. 

“Memorization mostly,” Abby says truthfully, “But I’d like to work on everything.”

You get out a fresh set of flashcards and slide them over to Abby. “Why don’t we start with making some flashcards? You can write down the word and then the definition on the back.”

You observe Abby. She’s hunched over the note cards and writing things down with the speed of a cheetah. Usually, the curtains of the library are closed, causing it to be lit by the sickly white lights above, but today the curtains are drawn, exposing the beautiful sunlight. 

Abby’s skin drinks up the sun. The freckles littered on her skin make unique patterns that not even a skilled painter could recreate. 

You speak before your mouth has a chance to stop you. “Do you know what you remind me of?”

She looks up at you through her lashes, “What?” “A sunflower.” The way that she flourishes in the sun can only be compared to a sunflower. So delicate yet strong. The perfect contrast between the two.

Abby laughs which would cause the librarian to scold her but not today. Today, the librarian is nowhere to be seen. Odd.

The library doors open and the mood shifts. A chill runs down your spine. The librarian is awoken from her nap by the lack of sunlight. The clouds cover the sun and Abby is no longer illuminated by its rays. 

Heavy footsteps can be heard making their way towards your table. 

“Babe, I thought you said you were coming to my place after school?” Owen places his hand on Abby’s back and snakes it up to her shoulder. He looks you in the eye as he does this, making you more uncomfortable than you’ve been in your entire life.

Abby sits up straight and brushes the hair out of her face. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“What’s going on? You never forget to come over.”

“I’m tutoring her. Mr. Miller thought that it would be a good idea considering I have the best grade in that class,” you cut in on their conversation. 

Owen eyes you suspiciously as if there aren’t flashcards and textbooks on the table. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” he whispers, loudly enough for you to hear. He pats Abby’s shoulder twice before exiting the library. 

Once he’s out of sight, you can feel the sun come back out and the librarian knocks out. The sun's rays reflect off Abby's skin and back into the atmosphere. 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 7

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |-| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

AO3

Summary: As they continue their stay at Coombe House, Rosie and Frankie find themselves ever more drawn to one another

Warnings: Language, mild injury description (blood), tension that makes me want to rip my own eyes out??? i think that counts

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The chirp of crickets filled the air, a warm afternoon breeze blowing the grass this way and that as the Riveters played in the river, laughing and shouting as they splashed one another from the comfort of their rowing boats beneath the glow of the midday sun. People had warned Rosie about the temperamental British weather before he'd left Brooklyn, but it seemed the heavens had made an exception for their trip. Considerate, really.

Frankie had laid out a picnic blanket on the grassy slope overlooking the water, a half-eaten packet of crackers and a battered copy of The Young Visiters lying in her wake, the book so well-worn that its cover was halfway hanging off. The only problem was that Frankie herself was nowhere to be found, and Rosie sat quietly beside her blanket like a dog awaiting its master, thumbing the corner of his book, unable to finish a whole page without looking around for any sign of her.

The sound of footsteps muffled by the soft ground caught his attention, craning his neck to watch her bounding up behind him. She was wearing a stark red blouse and a pair of shorts that ended just above the knee, and for a moment he had to stop himself from staring at her legs as Frankie crouched beside him. Letting out a grunt, she tucked her feet beneath her as she sat down, holding out the teacup she had been carrying. "Here. Drink this."

It didn't even occur to Rosie to question her demand until he had upturned the cup, a foul, acrid taste stinging his tongue. Swiftly spitting whatever the disgusting liquid was back into its cup, he spluttered in revulsion. "What in God's name is that?!"

Frankie guffawed, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. "Pappy got distracted and accidentally poured his juice and his coffee into the same cup."

"So naturally you had to bring it straight out here to make me drink it?"

"Of course," She nodded as if it were obvious, rolling over to lie on her stomach, feet crossed over and swinging back and forth in the air. "In my defence, I'm only here so that I'll feel better, and that did work."

Rosie couldn't help but smirk, even in spite of the bitter taste that coated his tongue. Pilfering one of her crackers, he turned back to his book, shaking his head in silent, teasing disapproval. He assumed she had taken up reading herself, but instead, she began letting out a low, tutting sound, shaking her head. "Fuckin' horse riding?"

Putting down his book once again, he frowned down at her. "I thought you liked it here - are you still complaining about 'rich people hobbies'?" He raised a hand in quotation, mimicking her own words.

"I just don't get it," She continued to shake her head, watching the riders with narrowed eyes. "I mean - buy a bike? Cheaper. Don't have to feed it. Bikes also don't shit all over the place - I almost stepped in some on my way over here." The distaste was thick in her tone, and he couldn't help but smile, even as he scoffed in disbelief.

"You're so biased."

"I just don't think you have to spend obscene amounts of money to have a good time - if anything, I'm frugal."

"I can see that - you've read that book half to death, the poor thing."

"I think it's funny. At least I don't read depressing books about poor people dying like you," Frankie chuckled, jabbing a finger at his copy of Of Mice and Men. "Not exactly therapeutic."

"She's so judgy!" Rosie declared, lying backwards in the grass beside her blanket so that they could actually see each other's faces. A grin was plastered across his face, stuck still as he looked up at her - at the way the corners of her eyes creased when she laughed, and how her smile was always ever-so-slightly lopsided. She stared back at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hi," Frankie spoke sweetly.

"Hello."

It was silent for a long moment, their eyes locked, gentle smiles creasing their cheeks. Rosie felt the sudden urge to lean in.

"Hey, Frankie!" Bailey's voice rang from down in the river. He raised his head to look down the hill to the water, where Pappy was whispering something too quiet for him to hear, seemingly telling off the younger pilot for his interruption.

Frankie missed this part, too busy scrambling to her feet so she could descend the slope, anxious to hear what Bailey had to say. Rosie sighed, his head lolling back into the grass. Sometimes he was glad he was such a peaceful man, otherwise he swore he could've wrung Bailey's neck.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asked as she reached the edge of the water, the breeze blowing her hair out of place. Bailey paddled closer, ignoring Pappy's glare as he muttered his response to a conversation she hadn't heard the rest of.

"What? I'm allowed - he doesn't get a monopoly just because he fancies her," The man frowned, looking up at her with a smile as he approached. "Tennis rematch this afternoon?"

Frankie pushed his first statement out of her mind with a shrug. "Absolutely. Prepare to be destroyed," She grinned, shaking hands on the deal.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bailey and Frankie were both equally dreadful at tennis. His serves barely ever made it across the net, and she frequently tripped on her own feet whilst scrambling to return the ones that did. They spent most of their matches yelling at each other in frustration, and the staff at Coombe House frequently had to tell them off for disturbing the other residents. But the pair were determined to get a single good game in before the end of their stay.

They'd been going for an hour. They had made no more than four successful passes in all that time, and at some point Frankie had skidded on her knee, grazing the skin and leaving a thin rivulet of blood running down her shin. "Fuck!" She yelled, just clipping the ball with the edge of her racket as it zipped past her, hitting the fence with a thud.

"You sure you wanna keep going?" Bailey called from across the court, eyeing the wound on her leg as she scrounged for the ball, which had rolled under a nearby hedge.

"I don't wanna stop until we get a proper back-and-forth going," She shook her head, wiping dirt off of the ball onto her shorts as she poised for another serve.

Rosie wandered the path past the tennis courts, his footsteps crunching against the gravel, altogether too distracted as he neared the end of his book to notice the chatter rising over the hedge before a familiar voice let out a whoop. Using his thumb to mark the page, he descended the stone steps leading down to the courts, spying the pair on the furthest of the three, tucked out of the way of the other players. They had finally gotten a rhythm going, letting out wordless exclamations of joy whenever they managed to successfully bat the ball back across the net, laughter mingling with the incessant sound of rackets colliding with the ball.

"Hey, you got it!" He cried, teeth bared in a grin.

"SHUT UP!" The pair yelled simultaneously, desperate not to break their concentration. Rosie chuckled, his smile fading slightly as he noticed Frankie's injury, the top layer of skin on her right knee now a bright patch of red, blooming with blood as it pooled in droplets on the surface.

"Gotta keep it up Rosie, I'm winning!" Bailey declared gleefully, sending the ball spinning back towards Frankie, narrowly missing the net.

"You're winning?" She cried, diving forward to return it, almost losing her balance but managing to clear the net. "Are you fucking blind?!"

"Hey, Frank, are you ok?" Rosie called, thumbing the corner of his book. Another line of blood had begun to seep down past her kneecap.

"It's nothing," Frankie sent the ball spinning towards Bailey, but he was just too slow, and it soared past his head into the shrubs. She let out a shriek, racket held above her head in victory. "See! I win!"

"Alright, alright," Bailey shook his head in defeat, crouching down to rummage for the lost ball. "Just go clean yourself up, it's distracting."

"Thank you," Rosie agreed with a nod. She held her racket out to him as he approached, and he accepted it without a second thought, only realising after a moment that he had no idea what to do with it. But by then Frankie was already at the top of the steps, peering down at her bloody knee. "C'mon, let's go in," He said as he caught up, discarding the racket upon a nearby bench, his palm skimming across her back as he guided her towards the house.

As nasty as the graze appeared, Frankie appeared completely unphased, a testament to the roughhousing games she had played as a girl. They made their way through the halls of Coombe House, the staff shooting her a few sideways glances, largely in fear of having to clean any blood out of the antique rugs. He followed her up the main staircase and through to their corridor, making a beeline for the shared bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frankie entered without a word, perching herself on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and hiking up her leg, leaving a muddy footprint on the clean, white rim as she attempted to pull out a few tiny stones with her fingers.

"Stop it!" Rosie seized her wrist, wrenching her hand away and shooting her a confounded look as he crossed towards the sink to wash his hands.

"I can do it," She whined, throwing up her hands.

"Not after trying that shit - you're banned from trying," He shook his head, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Frankie almost snorted with laughter at how serious he was taking their present situation. Rosie took a moment of silent consideration before leaving the room in search of a first aid kid, and she let out a long sigh, tapping her foot impatiently against the polished wood floor.

By the time he returned, there was a white towel crumpled on the floor, stained scarlet by the blood she had wiped away with it. "Who raised you?" He scoffed, crouching down on the floor in front of her, tossing the stained towel aside.

"Speaking of, you should meet my dad," Frankie grinned, kicking off her dirty shoe and placing her foot in his lap as instructed. "You'd like him."

Rosie began to disinfect the wound, carefully removing the debris, and she fought the urge to wince at the stinging sensation. "I'm sure I would, he raised you," The words came forth faster than he could process them, and for a moment he paused, one hand hovering above her injury, the other gripping the bare skin of her calf to keep her from moving. Their position wasn't compromising per se, but it wasn't exactly proper either. Nevertheless, the sudden thought of someone intruding on them made him squirm, and he got up to lock the bathroom door without a word.

Frankie's brow raised at this, the sudden, deliberate movement raising all sorts of questions. "God, this is taking an interesting turn," She blurted, internally cringing at the type of subtly-suggestive jokes the boys she used to work with in the garage liked to make.

He turned back to look at her. "... Were you just flirting with me?"

"I think so, yes."

Rosie frowned, considering this very seriously as she searched his expression for some indication of how he felt. "... Hm." Without another word, he resumed his place in front of her, beginning to dress her knee.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Frankie was almost irritated, but she could feel the sweat clamming his palms as they touched her bare skin and suddenly he wasn't as calm as he seemed. She fought to hide her smirk as he finished dressing the graze, nodding in satisfaction at his work. "There." His voice was quieter than usual, unsteady.

"Thanks," She spoke hurriedly, her perch on the edge of the bathtub becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Pushing herself up to stand, Frankie bent down to grab the blood-stained towel off of the floor. "Oh, I'll clean that before it stains-"

"No, that's ok, I can do it," Rosie assured her, seizing its other side. Neither of them was quite looking the other in the eye.

"You sure? I mean, it's my mess, I really don't mind-"

"I'm sure."

Frankie nodded slowly, letting her grip on the towel slip away. "Alright then," She turned to the door, unlocking it with a click, and by the time Rosie looked back to where she had been, she was gone. His heart had been thumping in his chest, too fast for comfort, and only once he was alone could he heave in a long, steady breath to slow it down. Glancing down at the floor, he chuckled.

She had forgotten her shoe.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Steam filled the bathroom, rising to the ceiling and coating the windows in a film of grey as Rosie sank beneath the hot water, revelling in the feeling as it covered him completely, the feeling of warmth seeping through his skin as if it wished to take rest within his very bones. He splashed a handful across his face, blinking away the droplets on his eyelashes as he let out a sigh, leaning back against the side of the tub.

Frankie had spent almost all of last night's dinner talking about her tennis match with Bailey, hardly sparing him a second glance. He knew he shouldn't have taken issue with it - she was friends with all of the flight crew by now - but he found himself staring, as if waiting desperately for her to meet his eye. He hadn't seen her at breakfast at all. She deserved the lie in - that's what he told himself. But it was becoming increasingly impossible for Rosie to think about anything else.

The bathroom door swung swiftly open and shut, and he slid downwards until the water reached his chin, desperately trying to cover the most indecent parts of himself. He could've sworn he'd locked that door. It was almost midday, but Frankie was still in her pyjamas, brow furrowed as she read the newspaper she was holding in one hand, a glass of orange juice and a cigarette steadily burning away in the other. By the look of her, she hadn't realised he was there at all, taking a seat upon the closed toilet lid as she used the light of the windows to read by.

“Morning,” She spoke nonchalantly, such a calm acknowledgement of his naked presence that it was almost more jarring than the intrusion itself. For a moment Rosie could do nothing but gape, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he searched for something to say.

"... Do you mind?"

Her gaze flitted away from the newspaper and met his eyes for a moment. He shrank farther below the surface of the water, praying to God she couldn't see anything below the rim of the tub. Her expression showed no recognition of what he was referring to. After a moment of silence, Frankie shrugged. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It's everything you haven't seen before!” Rosie cried, almost bolting upwards again before remembering what was happening.

"No, but like. In general," She was peering back down at her newspaper, finishing off her juice. Her cigarette was almost entirely burnt out, but she took one last puff before tossing it into the empty glass as if it were an ashtray.

He blinked slowly. "Frankie. Why are you here."

"Sun's on this side of the house," Frankie replied as if it were a normal answer to give - as if her room didn't have electric lighting, as if she weren't sitting a mere ten feet away from his nakedness. Even in a bathroom as huge as this one, it was making him nervous. She seemed to be able to sense it. "D'you want me to leave?"

"Yes. I think so."

She nodded, standing up to go, her eyes still locked on the paper as she made for the door. Before he even knew what he was saying, he spoke. "Wait."

Frankie looked up, smiling slightly at the way his head peeked over the edge of the bathtub, his cheeks flushed bright red. "You don't have to... if you don't want to. I mean, as long as you're not lookin'-"

"I didn't come in here with the intention of staring at your arse, Captain," She shook her head, chuckling as she returned to her perch.

"Why did you?"

"I told you. Good lighting."

He shook his head. It sounded like bullshit to him. But if it was the story she was sticking with, Rosie wasn't going to keep prying. "Just throw me a towel, will ya?" He shook his head, reaching an arm out to catch it as she tossed one across the room from where they had been stacked beside the radiator.

Frankie kept her word, turning her back as he rose out of the still-warm water, wrapping the towel around his waist as a single, wet curl dangled in front of his face.

"Uh. Frankie?"

"Hm?"

"You're sitting next to my clothes."

He'd left them folded in a pile on the floor where they couldn't get wet, which just so happened to now be right next to her feet. She bent down, snatching the pile and holding it out to him, her gaze still purposely fixed on her reading. But as he reached out to take it, his belt slid from atop his shirt, landing on the floor with a clatter.

"Shit," Frankie muttered, and the pair moved to retrieve it simultaneously. She caught a glimpse of him and for a moment she froze, her face heating up and turning a fierce red. "Uh, no, this is weird, I'm just gonna... go."

Leaping to her feet, she began hurriedly making to leave, gaze fixed on the door handle to prevent it from wandering anywhere near him. Rosie nodded hurriedly, attempting to shrug on his shirt whilst still holding up the towel with one hand. "I'm sorry," He blurted, although what he was apologising for he couldn't quite say.

The moment he spoke, she turned on her heel, tossing her newspaper onto the floor. She'd been back and forth across that room so many times she was starting to feel dizzy. Or maybe it wasn't that. Her heart was beating too fast for her body, and she let out a huff of air as she crossed the room towards him, taking his damp face in her hands. Rosie's chest rose and fell over and over as he stared back at her, their noses almost touching from the closeness.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen eyes so... blue.

His breath hitched in his throat as she tilted her head upwards, their lips in line with one another's. He'd barely have to move to kiss her now, warm breath fanning his cheek.

A knock came at the door, and Frankie pulled away so fast it was as if she'd been electrocuted, unable to breathe as she waited for whoever was outside to speak.

"Sergeant Bevan?" The voice of one of the staff members came, a warm, American lilt to her greeting. "There's a call for you downstairs."

She swallowed hard, her throat so dry it hurt. "I'll be there in a sec," Frankie called in return, her words shaky. Pausing for a moment, entirely unmoving, she broke the stillness with a firm nod, reaching for her stuff as she stepped towards the door.

"Frankie, wait," Rosie whispered, moving to follow, careful not to speak loud enough for the woman outside to hear. "Just wait a sec, can we-"

"I need to go," She met his eyes, and for a moment he was drowning in the sheer indecipherable nature of her expression. Her thoughts had always been a mystery to him, and now was no different.

He stepped behind the door as she opened it, obscuring himself from the view of anyone outside, fighting the urge to reach out to her as she left. The door closed behind her with a gentle click, and then he was alone, the room feeling suddenly twice as large and empty as it had before. Rosie let out a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the wood with a faint thud.

"... Dammit."

[wiley199]

You Are In Love

A/N Hello this is my first writing that I posted so I would love constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy it though!! This doesn't follow the plot exactly of the OBX but there are some season 3 spoilers! I also did not have time to proof read so let me know any spelling errors. Thank You!!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

People always said you and JJ were speaking to each other without words. There were times that they weren't needed like when you are uncomfortable with a Toulon at the boneyard or he comes crawling in your window after a fight with his father. No words were exchanged but the look was enough. You would both sink into each other and just know.

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Every minute spent with JJ was too fast. One minute you would be on the beach sunrise really to surf and the next it was night at the Chateau with the Pogues. You played the memories over and over until they were worn out. You didn't realize how often your life with the Pogues were centered around JJ.

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

The first time he gave you his coat was because you were freezing at a party. JJ made the joke that if he gave it to you, you would never take it off and he would never want you to take it off. It would fit you too well. He finished up the zipper and the joke resonated deep within you both. You never did end up giving the coat back.

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

That was the first second you saw what everyone else did. The lingering look you both shared in that moment was enough to make you think that maybe you two were enough for each other but it wasn't enough for you to vocalize it to JJ.

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

JJ was notorious for not having money but whenever he did he almost always spent it on you (and weed), no matter what. Driving to desolate locations on his bike. Buying you 7$ coffees, all while bitching it is cheaper to make it at home. You two always talked about your fears after the drives and somehow JJ made you forget every single one.

The light reflects

The Chain on your neck

The first gift you got JJ was when you were 14, it was a silver plated chain with his initials on it. You told him that you wanted to put your initials on it but you didn't own him. Whether he was surfing, riding, treasure hunting or getting hammered, he had it on. When John B finally asked why he never took it off, even when he showered, JJ simply said "That way she never leaves me"

He says "Look up"

And your shoulders brush

You lived for these moments when it was just you and JJ. When the lightest of touches came to you. He doesn't realize you are waiting for them. They are not only cause an inferno to burn with you but they also cause every thought and worry turn into a constant thrum of "JJ Maybank." To you stargazing means peace of mind. To JJ it means he can stare at you without getting caught.

No proof, one touch

But you felt enough

You never felt perfect in the presence of anyone but when you met the whirlwind, chaotic, and maybe at sometimes scatterbrained JJ Maybanks you knew he made you feel enough.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

JJ considered the Chateau his home until Luke hightailed it out of the OBX and then all of a sudden you were at his childhood home four nights a week. The mornings were his favorites. He rolled over or looked down depending on how much you two intertwined in your sleep (which he always waited until you were asleep then pulled you to him but he always said you were the one who moved closer) and then he would find the strength to get out of bed and try to make you breakfast. It always ended with something getting burnt, usually the toast but sometimes other things.

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

JJ would watch as you laughed and try to clean up his mess. His shirt over your body. John B and Pope would make fun of him for the rest of his life if they saw the gentle look in his eyes. He promised to himself and you that he would never let anything hurt you so after the bacon grease started splattering you he jumped up, screaming "BACK you devilish bacon lard. you shall not hurt the princess rogue" as he swings you behind him and holds the spatula as a sword.

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

JJ knows. He sees the distant look in your eyes when he gets close. He know the thoughts in your head. He has the same ones about worth and values. JJ has known you since the 4th grade and SEES you. He knows you itch your palm when you are nervous and when you are consumed with the thoughts in your head, your hand finds his rings and starts spinning it around and around.

One step, not much

But it said enough

JJ hates dancing but at the boneyard with you beckoning him with your fingers and lip syncing a trash song he couldn't help but start walking towards you. He is standing at a reasonable distance and then takes a chance. Takes a step closer. You stop singing. You stop breathing. He knows this is the make it or break it moment. JJ stops the "You fucked up" thought from entering. And waits. Your eyes light up and the radiance you emit is blinding. You start dancing and singing again but only after wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a kiss on his cheek.

You kiss on sidewalks

You kiss for the first time that night as he is taking you into his house. Nothing beats this and yet everything else has been building up to this moment. Maybe his whole life has been waiting for this.

You fight and talk

JJ is crying. Fighting is something he hates but fighting with you is worse. You see his point of view more than anyone else so maybe that is why it hurt so much more when you told him he was being irrational. Before he knew it he was yelling and you looked scared. He did grab your hand and he did apologize but you looked scared. He didn't mean to yell. JJ begged to talk and you were pleased to see him come back from his rage. You sat him down and talked for an hour about his reasoning and somehow you met in the middle. JJ was crying because he never knew it could be this way.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

You are used to JJ waking up in the middle of the night whether it is from you moving too much, getting too hot, or the least favorite of your reasons, a nightmare. This one was strange. He looked like he hadn't slept at all but looked so energized that anyone would think he slept for five years. You finally ask "JJ, you good?"

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

There is a reason that JJ didn't know life could be like this. There is a reason he didn't know you could talk issues out, or wake up and feel happy, or even look over at someone in the car who has no makeup on, covered in dirt and sweat, with the wind blowing in her hair and think she is ethereal.

And you knew what it was

He is in love

JJ didn't know it could be like this cause he was never in love. Or maybe he was this whole time and just din't have the name of the feeling he felt for you

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it when the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

When you and JJ finally were able to go on a trip (thanks to good old Eldorado) he took you to do something he knew you always wanted to. He took you to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, alll while complaining about the drive. He bought warm clothes cause he would be damned if you got sick and when it started snowing outside of the cabin he took you out and danced until your feet were sore and both your hands and nose were numb with the cold.

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

Once the surf shop was up and running the first thing JJ did was put a picture of you and him holding boards on OBX beach. To tourists this looked like good marketing. To all the other the Pogues they knew no matter where JJ was, whether it was at work or home, HE had to keep you in his eyesights.

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my who life tryin' to put it into words

With his first paycheck from the surf shop he got you a gift. A silver plated necklace with your name on it. You opened it and took it out with a soft smile on your face. "You got me a matching one." JJ reached around and took his off and took yours out of your hands. He then proceeded to put the necklace with your name on and reached around your neck to put the necklace with his name on your neck. You were staring at him startled because the thought of JJ making an official claim to someone still rattled your brain.

"You know I never got why people said they lost their minds to love, but I get it. I think I lose mine everyday when I see how perfect you are when you sleep, or make breakfast, or read. I think I lose it every time I walk out the door or you walk out it. There is not a single part of me that hasn't been crazy before. But you. You make me insane. You are the one thing I got right you know? I don't need anything else. Cause you own me and I own some piece of you. And I wouldn't change it for all the buried treasure in the world."

Cause you can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

[foxyarchive]

Glass in the Ocean[P3]

You find yourself visiting the shore again for… Whatever reason.

- thank you all again for your support!! apologies for the somewhat late chapter, had a family emergency to take care of. If you all have any questions about more of my mer lore, feel free to drop me an ask! i'll be sprinkling more tidbits as the story goes along, but i'm always open to receiving asks and talking about it more! helps me to world build too hehe Cross-Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mentions of self harm(NOT for the reader or anyone else; Mentioned in reader's passing thoughts regarding a situation) Words: ~5.8k Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist! P1 | P2 | P3

You head back up the stairs, put away everything you don’t need inside, put the key in your bike, and are off to the town. It’s a Wednesday, so it’s fairly quiet. There’s tourists, of course, but you know it’s not bustling like it would be on the weekends. Still, you need to traverse carefully around people, trying not to barrel into anyone or knock them over. It’s not very often you ride a bike around, so you’re getting your sea legs back, so to speak. 

The first few shops you visit are grocery. There’s only a couple, but you’re sure to take a note of what they keep in stock, and what you may need to order from elsewhere. The next places are for clothing. Everything is fairly expensive, to no surprise, but there’s some cheaper options too for more practical items. You can’t help but to buy a beautiful flowing gown, and although it’s pricey, you’re excited to wear it at some point. After that, you find a shop that helps to supply your grandparents with a few things they needed for their own business. You stop by to say hello to your grandmother as she runs her shop. You’d asked if she’d wanted help, but she just insisted you look around more, so you continued on your way. 

You finally just let yourself peruse the various shops, grabbing some lunch after looking at the important ones first. Thankfully, it wasn’t all seafood that was served at every single place. There was definitely some variety, which you were grateful for. It was finally late afternoon when you decided to head back. You’d picked up a few things at the grocer to cook for dinner, including a little box of chocolate covered seafoam candy. You took it slow, trying to adjust to having items in your basket. The bike was electric, so thankfully it was a little more sturdy, but it still had a bit of a pull when you would turn certain ways. 

Arriving back home, you found your eyes once more drifting to the ocean. All quiet. Not a single sign of mers. You were beginning to wonder if you had dreamt about the entire thing– Both encounters. You felt relatively calm around the whole thing, now, thankfully. Maybe talking with Connor had put you at ease… Then you remembered his brother. The one from today. You shuddered a bit at the thought. He looked like he was more than willing to eat you if there was nothing else around. Yep, definitely not swimming anytime soon. 

After securing the bike, you walked inside, beginning to work on cooking the tilapia and vegetables you’d bought. You turned on some music while you worked, humming along to the beat as you chopped and sauced everything. You were used to being alone, doing the same routine like this almost nightly. It could definitely be a lonely lifestyle, but it was one you didn’t really mind. You had so much freedom with it, after all. 

Your grandmother was home by the time you had finished cooking dinner, and you set everything down on the table. “This smells delicious, dear, thank you. Where did you learn to cook?” She asks as you settle down as well, cutting a piece of fish off with your fork. 

“Little from mom, mostly from online videos.” You admit, taking a bite of your meal with a pleased hum. The fish was so fresh and tender. It was actually probably one of the best pieces of fish you’d cooked in your life, and you could only assume part of it was due to it being so local. Your grandmother took a bite as well, a pleased hum leaving her lips as she swallowed, offering you a smile. 

“Well, I’ll say, this is excellent! If you do move in here, consider rent paid with dinner. This is as good as where we ate last night.” She beams, and you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment. 

“Please, this isn’t as good as your food.” You tease, and she just chuckles with a shake of her head as she goes in for another mouthful. “Did you get a lot of people in the shop today?” You ask, eating some more, and she offers a resigned sigh after she swallows. 

“A little more than normal, but a lot of it was condolences because of the service. I will say, I think it did increase sales output. Thank goodness you’re here, we’re very much going to need to restock soon.” She murmurs, shaking her head again as you merely smile.

“It’s why I’m here. I think maybe we should do some work here tomorrow, then open for the weekend, then close for a couple of days to restock what we can.” You suggest, and she contemplates your idea while chewing. 

“I think that’s an excellent idea, dear. Yes, let’s do that.” She agrees, and you beam at the prospect of a good suggestion before the both of you finish up your dinner. You both clean up, and although your grandmother is talking, you find your mind wandering. And it’s wandering back down to the water. There’s a certain draw  it’s beginning to have now, which is both a little confusing and concerning for you. You try to push it out of your mind, wondering why your brain is insistent on going back towards danger, but it seems that you can’t ignore it. Soon enough, you find yourself with a small, portable light in your hand, your earbuds, and your box of candy as you head back down to the beach. 

You head back over to where you were earlier. It’s dusk, the last of the orange in the sky beginning to fade out. Thankfully, the light you have provides plenty in its soft glow. You unroll the towel tucked under your arm, setting it down as you sit cross legged on it. You slip your now cleaned earbuds in, turning on some music as you watch the water and open your box of candy. You truly do wonder why your body is craving the sensation of sitting by the ocean so suddenly, despite the fear of what had just happened, and you realized that it’s probably because you’re trying to work through the trauma. Your mind is certainly crafty, putting you close to things you fear. 

You munch on your second sweet, nearly jumping into the air as something breaks the surface of the water. There’s a wide smile on his face, and you almost think it’s Connor, for a second. The more muted blue of the tail, though, gives the fact away that it’s definitely his brother. You can feel your heart rate pick up a bit, but you’re uncertain whether it’s out of fear, or… Or what? Surely it must just be from being startled. 

You take out your earbuds, setting them on the towel as you see he’s trying to talk to you. He says your name, and it’s a little surprising, only to realize that Connor must have passed it along. “You came back down; I knew you would. Connor had his doubts, but I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He smirks, pulling himself up on the shore a bit. You find yourself subconsciously shifting backwards, despite the length between you two, but don’t make a move or comment yet. His eyes catch onto the bandages wrapped around your ankle, and the mirth on his face seems to fall a bit. You can see something akin to remorse flash on his features in the soft light, and you wait for an apology, but instead he just says, “Connor said you both talked earlier. You’re practically friends now, right?” He’s looking cocky again, lips curling up as he rolls onto his stomach. 

You don’t know how to feel. An apology would be nice, but you’re not sure you’re getting one. You set your lips in a thin line, not looking particularly pleased as you answer, “I think ‘acquaintances’ is a better term, and even that is pushing it.” You admit, and he just chuckles, rolling his eyes as his tail briefly flicks up from the water. 

“Sure, sure. My name’s Sixty, by the way.” He says, and you raise a brow at the peculiar name. You’d expected something like Connor’s, not… A number. 

“How’d you get it?” You ask, and he just shrugs. 

“It’s the only name I remember I was given. Connor was given Fifty, but he decided to change his name. Nines was Ninety, which I think he’s attached to as well, considering he didn’t fully rename himself, but he just purely goes by Nines now.” The confusion is evident on your face at his explanation. These were all… Numbers. A name he was given… A sudden thought crosses your mind. 

“Were you in captivity?” You ask, frowning slightly, and Sixty seems to grow a bit defensive at the question. He just scoffs, rolling his shoulders. 

“No.” He says, sounding offended. There’s quiet, then a soft, “Maybe.” Your frown deepens a bit, and you can’t help the sympathetic wave that shoots through you. You know that mers that are held captive are, more often than not, used for study and experimentation. There’s a few put into aquariums, but if they’re not highly drugged, there’s a pretty good chance they find a way to kill themselves in the first couple weeks. You wonder what their case was. “Doesn’t matter.” He says, brusquely, moving on as he then asks you a question. “What are you eating?” He leans forward a bit, as if it would give him a better look. 

“Seafoam candy.” You respond, and bemusement instantly crosses over his face. 

“What’s that? Does it have chocolate?” His eyes suddenly light up, and you blink at the new air about him. 

“Yes. Does your human not give you chocolate?” You ask, and he wrinkles his nose at your phrasing. 

“He’s not ‘our human’. He doesn’t own us.” He scoffs, and you put your hands up a bit, placatingly. “He doesn’t give us human sweets, though. One time, he gave some to us when we were younger. It made Nines very sick, so he doesn’t feed us a lot of human food anymore. Afraid it’s going to hurt us, even though I keep insisting it’s going to be fine.” He rolls his eyes, and you’re suddenly unsure, now, if you even want to feed him anything. He can spot the uncertainty in your gaze, and he just groans, flopping onto his side. “Come ooon. Don’t be like him. Give me a piece. Please?” He begs, rolling back up, using those goddamn puppy eyes you fell for this time. 

Except, now, you were far away from him. And if you gave this to him, the only person it could harm is himself, so… You were willing to take that gamble. Not like you wanted to see him get sick, but… He had hurt you. You were petty, alright? “Fine.” You declare, and his smile widens as you pick out a piece and toss it to him. He catches it with surprising deftness, rolling onto his back as he peers at it with what you assume is awe on his face. With it being dark, now, and him being so far, it’s a little hard to tell. 

He pops the whole thing into his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise as he chews. He rolls back onto his stomach, making a face the more he chews, and you’re not entirely certain he likes it. He finally swallows, and sticks his tongue out, lip curling up a bit, before you can see his cheeks puff out a bit as he tries to likely get the candy out from between his teeth. “Thish ish– Chocolate?” He glowers, nose scrunched up, and you can’t help but to softly giggle at the sight. 

“Only the outside shell was. The inside is made of sugar, vinegar and corn syrup. They make it in a way where it’s kind of fluffy and spongy. It’s sort of supposed to be a mix of a meringue and toffee and kinda honeycomb… Not like you know what any of those are, probably.” You sigh out, realizing you’re just beginning to waste your breath. He’s still trying to get the substance out from his teeth, and hisses in annoyance, an irritable click leaving his throat. You only feel a little bad as you watch his frustrations, amusement coming to your own face as well, now. He even goes as far as to roll away and back into the water, and you take the time to open your phone and look through it. 

A couple minutes later he pops back up, his nose scrunched up. “Yeah. That sucked. I don’t wanna try that again. Can you bring me just chocolate next time?” He asks, and you blink at the forward request, a little surprised. 

“Who said anything about a next time? I don’t live here, after all.” You say, and it’s his turn to look surprised. 

“You don’t? I thought you just moved here.” He asks, glancing up towards your current residence. It’s a little far away, still, but you can barely see part of it over the hill where the balcony is. 

“No. I’m just here temporarily.” You reply, and you can see his body almost deflate at the information. 

“Oh.” His voice is flat, and there’s a look on his face which you can determine is likely disappointment. It raises your next question. 

“Why did you bother me yesterday? I know you guys like to be secretive. What pushed you into waking me up?” You ask, eyeing him intently now, but it’s Sixty’s turn to be unable to meet your gaze. He squirms a bit, back on his stomach, pushing a few strands of wet hair out of his face that just inevitably fall back into their spot. 

“I don’t know.” He admits, and you feel frustration start to mount in you, now. Connor had given the same answer. “It’s hard to explain, but I just… It felt like something was pushing me to do it. I swam by, peeked out, saw you, caught your scent, and I… I just knew I needed to talk to you.” He’s still frowning, as if he’s confused by this whole phenomena too. He looks back to you, and you don’t quite know how to feel. You didn’t think he was lying. He didn’t seem to be. It felt like a flimsy excuse, though. 

“What if I went and told someone?” You couldn’t help but to ask, voice quiet. His tone holds an equally quiet note as he replies. 

“You didn’t, though, did you?” There’s a hint of a challenge in his eyes, giving you a pause before you speak again. He’s right. You didn’t. Deep down, too, you knew you probably still wouldn’t. 

“How long have you all been here for?” You ask, uncrossing your legs as they begin to ache. You let your ankles cross over one another, mindful of your scratched up one. 

“Few years. Four, I think.” He replies, seeming to relax just a bit more. “It’s nice, this area. You don’t get a whole lot of explorers down here, even if it’s considered safe, just because of the residences along the coast. Namely, yours.” He admits, jerking his head back towards where your grandmother’s house is there. That house is the first along the scattered line. “So, then. Why are you ‘temporarily’ here?” The word has a certain inflection to it, like he’s not quite sure he believes you. Not like you care, but you find it a little funny. 

“I’m helping my grandmother for a while. My grandfather just recently passed away.” You explain, and there’s a bit of confusion on his features. Oh, right. You’re not sure what phrases they’re aware of. “He died.” You correct, and the look drops to more of a brief stint of pain. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re not here visiting, then, like everyone else.” He waves a hand towards the town, and you shake your head. 

“No, I’m not a tourist. I’m going to help her run her shop until she can find someone to help her more permanently.” You state, and he looks confused once again at your statement, making you wonder what you should have worded differently.

“Why don’t you just help her permanently?” He asks. Ah, that makes more sense. Mers were very family inclined. Their pods could get quite large due to it, sometimes up to the twenties; Rarely the thirties. 

“Well, I have a career.” You start to explain, letting a hand drift down and settle in the sand. “I’ve spent a good chunk of my adult life trying to get to where I am now. It’s not so easy to just leave that and pursue something like this.”

“I mean. Sounds pretty easy to me.” Sixty shrugs, flopping onto his back. You see his fin squish out on the side of his back, and he tucks his arms behind his head, tilting it back a bit to peer at you. “Humans are flippant.”

“That’s a big word.” You find yourself teasing, gently. It catches you off guard, but it doesn't bother him. If anything, it just makes his smile bigger. Clearly, you’re beginning to grow more relaxed. You don’t know how you feel about that. 

“Yeah, yeah, fish brain. I’m serious, though. I hear humans will just leave and start anew all the time. I hear they can have whole families and abandon them on a whim for something– Or someone– Else.” His lips curl in distaste at the thought, and you grimace, peering down at your toes. 

“You’re… Not wrong. Not all humans are like that, though. A lot are very loyal. Whether it’s to their spouse, or job, or family, or even their pet. I know if I had a cat or something, and my house was on fire, I don’t think I’d leave until I knew it was safe.” You comment. Sixty eyes you, a curious look on his upside down face, before he rolls over onto his front. 

“You say that not all humans are like that, and yet you were so quick to assume yesterday that I was going to hurt you.” He states. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the implication, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say because he’s right. You had just made assumptions based on all of the data gathered. 

“I-I mean–” you stutter, and another smirk plasters itself on his face as he sees your clear discomfort. You’re certainly not an innocent party, but neither is he. “You nearly proved my assumptions by dragging me into the water!” You counter, and he just scoffs and rolls his eyes, tail flicking from the water once more only to loudly slap down on it. 

“You’re still on that? You know I wasn’t going to actually hurt you.” He counters, and any embarrassment you were feeling has begun to give way to irritation. 

“No, actually, I didn’t know that! You were exhibiting all the signs of a mer who was trying to lure me in and drown me!” You snip out, feeling your metaphorical feathers bristling at his insistence. 

“And what, may I ask, are those signs?” He grins, resting his head in his hand as he peers at you from afar. 

“You were being nice, which is a huge red flag right from the getgo from a mer to a human,” You start, holding out your hand and counting with your fingers. “You offered to help me. You asked me about myself. You tried to gain my trust. Need I go on?” The statement is finished with an annoyed flourish of your hands, before you slap them back down onto your thighs. He clicks his tongue, raising an unimpressed brow. 

“Really? That’s what humans assume we’re doing when we want to gnaw on someone?” He asks, voice flat, and your frown mars further across your lips. 

“Yes. It’s literally proven data.” You counter. 

“By who?” Comes his own counter. 

“By those who have been dragged to sea by mers.” 

“You mean the people who are dead?” 

You open your mouth. Then close it. He has a point…

“I assume by those who were attacked and lived to tell the tale.” You bite out, and he sneers. 

“There you go. Assuming again. Is that a typical human trait?” He tilts his head to the side, and you’ve found that your patience has officially ran out. It’s getting late now, anyways, and you’re sitting here talking to a mer. Sixty laughs a bit, and good Lord it’s way too charming. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

“I’m done.” You announce, abruptly getting to your feet. You tuck your earbuds and phone away, grabbing your towel and whip the sand off of it. 

“Oh, come on, we were just getting started! It isn’t even moonhigh yet!” He counters as you roll up your towel, tucking it back under your arm, grabbing up your boxed candy shortly after.

“Goodnight.” You say, turning and marching off without even looking at him. 

“Come back soon, okay? And come swim! I won’t drag you out again, I promise! It’ll be a lotta fun!” He calls after you, and you just roll your eyes. No shot that was happening. 

Despite your stubborn demeanor as you try to forget about the mers while getting settled for bed, you find that they just won’t leave your mind once you’re settled beneath your covers. Connor’s pleasant, polite demeanor. Sixty’s snarky, but funny attitude. Then, there was Nines… Although he was a complete mystery to you, and only regarded you with cold, untrusting stares… You couldn’t help but to think about him as well. You wondered if he was like either of his brothers; He certainly didn’t seem like that. It was clear he spent a lot more time underwater than the two of them, given the complexion of his skin tone. Perhaps you’d be able to actually talk with him one day.

You nearly slapped a palm to your forehead. Why were you wanting to actually converse more with mers? They were dangerous creatures! They were going through an awful lot of trouble to try and butter you up for a meal, though… Maybe that was because they couldn’t get too close to the town, and he mentioned others never wandered out here. You just happened to be the first idiot that did in a long while. You wondered how long they’d been wanting to taste human meat. 

Then, you thought about the supposed human that had helped to take care of them. The one you weren’t supposed to know about. He lived not too far, apparently. Maybe one of these days you could take a trip out, try and figure out who it was, and talk to him. Get a better feeling for the brothers. After all, if they weren’t lying, and this guy actually vouched for them… Maybe, perhaps, things could be different. You highly doubted this man would be trying to trick and feed humans to mers, after all. He’d have nothing to get out of it. 

You turned over in your bed with a sigh, closing your eyes to will yourself to sleep. It finally did come, and although your dreams were a little cryptic with flashes of you swimming and beings swirling around you, they weren’t nightmare inducing. You woke up early that morning, earlier than normal. Although still bleary with sleep, you decided to get up and start your day off with a nice breakfast and some work. 

You think about making a big enough breakfast for yourself and your grandmother, but scrolling through your emails on your phone makes you think otherwise as you see how much there is to deal with. Resigned, you grab some fruit salad from yesterday, make some toast and coffee, and call it good as you settle on the dining room table. You open up your computer, munching as you scroll through and answer emails. The work is mind numbing, and you sit there for an hour and a half just doing that until your grandmother comes out to make herself some breakfast and coffee as well. She tells you that you that she wants to get started in an hour and a half, which gives you time to catch up on more work. 

…Except, after another half hour of whittling away at it, you can’t help but to let your eyes gravitate towards the window. The sparkling ocean greets you in the early morning, a slight fog settling over it. Still, you feel a certain pull towards it that you definitely hadn’t before. Not to swim, but to just… Be around it. You think about the mer brothers, and you feel something squeeze in your chest at the thought. You were trying to distance yourself more from them, but to your surprise and slight horror, you found it was actually becoming difficult. It seemed, now, that you actually wanted to seek them out. You lightly tapped your thumb on the spacebar of your laptop, chewing on your lip. 

Just a quick trip. You decided, getting to your feet. You closed your computer, changing into something you’d wear for the rest of the day. You glanced at a couple pieces of leftover fruit in your bowl, and decided to bring it with you. The thought crossed your mind; Had any of them ever had fruit before? They must have. After all, fruit was considered healthy, and you were sure that their human friend gave them such. Plus, this was fruit salad. It had a dressing on it. Why you were even thinking too hard on this was really beyond you, or why you were heading down barefoot to the beach with that bowl in your hand was just something beyond your comprehension. It was clearly happening, though. You wondered if anyone would even be out this early… Connor was yesterday. What were the odds of them skulking around two days in a row, though?

Heading back to your usual spot, you managed to catch a glimpse of something in the water, quite far from where you were. It was a faint shimmer of something, a little difficult to see with the mild fog that spread across. As you kneeled down in the sand, though, you could see another flicker once more. Something crested. Was that a tail? You were certain it was. Your suspicions were confirmed, true, as moments later you saw a body swim in the shallow water, breaking the surface shortly after. The more vibrant tail colors immediately tipped you off to it being Connor, and he offered you a bright grin. It was infectious, you insisted, as you smiled back. He said your name, looking quite pleased to see you here. “What brings you down here this morning?” He asks, and that’s when you find yourself short on an answer. Why were you here?

“I… Guess I just felt like coming down and watching the sunrise.” You admit. It’s not a full lie. The sun is still rising; It’s only seven in the morning, after all. 

“It’s a little difficult to see it today.” Connor admits, frowning somewhat as he glances back over the ocean, still lightly shrouded in mist. “I’m still glad you’re here, though.” He looks back, smiling once more, and the shy smile returns to your face with a faint heat coming to your cheeks. “What’s that you have?” He asks, curious as he eyes the bowl in your hand. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about it. 

“It's a fruit salad. Would you like to try a piece?” You offer, watching him perk up similarly to how Sixty had last night. 

“Yes, please.” He responds, eagerly. You take a piece out of the bowl– A nice thick apple chunk– And toss it his way. He’s quick like Sixty is, watching with a sharp eye and snatching the fruit out of the air. He takes a moment to sniff it, before giving it a curious lick, and finally pops it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews on it, an appreciative hum coming from his chest. “I’ve never had a fruit that tastes like that before.” He admits after he swallows, peering back at you, an eager look in his eyes for more. “What was it?”

“It was just an apple, but it’s covered in a dressing. It’s yogurt, vanilla, and a little bit of marshmallow.” You explain, and you can faintly see the fin on his back quiver. 

“Can I… Have more? Please?” He asks, a little shyly, and you look down at the bowl. There’s still a few pieces left. You’re about to pick up another one, before you find yourself pausing. You glance to him, and then the bowl, before slowly getting to your feet. Connor watches your every move, his eye widening a bit, but you can see a certain sharpness to them that wasn’t there before. Now, you’re suddenly uncertain of who is more wary of the other. He’d seemed so kind yesterday, and today as well, but this doesn’t make you forget that he’s a wild sea creature who’s ready to bite at any second. You’re certain that he doesn’t forget you’re a human, either, who killed many of his kind. It was obvious who had the upperhand in this situation, but despite how friendly he was, there would probably always be that constant reminder between you both about who you each were. 

At the very least, though, he didn’t look primed to attack. His muscles were tense, sure, but it was clear he intended to flee at the very moment of danger. For some reason, the thought made your chest ache just a bit. Perhaps you didn’t want him to be afraid of you, but… You hadn’t extended the same courtesy to them. Maybe that’s why, against all of your gut instinct, you found yourself shuffling a bit closer. His eyes never left your body, occasionally flicking up to meet your own. Tepid and uncertain, but not afraid. You were standing about five feet away from him when you came to a halt. Your heart was beginning to race as you thought about him grabbing onto your wrist. Dragging you into the water like his brother had. Only this time, there definitely would not be any saving, because Connor had been your savior. He certainly could be your doom as well. 

With a somewhat hesitant, shaky hand, you offered him the bowl. He looked at you, then the bowl, and slowly reached out. You couldn’t help but to flinch back a bit as his hand raised up, which instantly caused him to recoil. His arm curled in, and he bit his lip, blinking apologetically. “Sorry.” You found yourself murmuring, trying to steel your nerves as you held the bowl back out to him. You remembered his vow. They didn’t kill or eat humans. Really, that remained to be seen, but you were chancing it right now. Again. You just didn’t learn, did you? 

Your arm extended once more, and you kept yourself from flinching as his did, too. You held the lip of the bowl, and he cupped it with his hand. Gosh, he was so large. It was certainly intimidating. Bright, sharp, intelligent eyes that watched your every move as you let go, immediately taking a few steps back. You released the breath you’d been holding, and some of the tension appeared to meld away from both of your bodies. Connor peered down at the bowl, tilting his head to observe the pieces of fruit left inside. He’d delicately pick each piece up, examine it, before eating it. He seemed to grow more and more enthralled with every piece he ate, but alas, there were only a few pieces left. He was soon out, a disappointed look crossing his features as he settled down. 

“That was really good. There was this… Really sweet undertone to it. Something a little more overpowering than other pieces. I really liked it. What was that?” He asks you, curious, as he holds the bowl back out for you to take. You slowly inch forward, timidly taking the bowl from him as you try to think of what he may mean. Whilst grabbing the container, your fingers brush against his own. You both flinch at the sudden contact, causing you to quickly scuttle backwards like you’d been burned. His fingers had been cool to the touch– A bit slick, thanks to the scales. You peered down at your hand, perplexed, and you noticed Connor do the same with his hand. Even though you were further away, you were still close enough to notice a blue tint overtake his cheeks. He looked almost… In awe. 

“Marshmallow.” You finally answer him as you regain your senses and figure out what he’s referring to. He blinks, refocusing on your gaze, and a soft smile comes to his face. 

“Marshmallow… I really like that. If you… Come back… Could you bring me some more? Just the marshmallow?” He asks, hopefully, and the look on his face makes your heart pick up a bit. So. Chocolate for Sixty, marshmallows for Connor… You were really doing this, weren’t you? Well, as long as you kept your distance, you figured this may be a fun use of your downtime. A sudden idea came to mind, which had you smiling just a bit more. 

“Tell you what.” You begin, eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow night, I’ll bring marshmallows, and some other things. Why don’t you invite your brothers as well? It can be a… Party.” You decide, and his eyes light up at the prospect. 

“Really?” Another smile crosses his face, and you nod, still grinning. 

“Yes.” You glance over to the alcove to your left. It would be a good place to shelter from the wind, should there be any tomorrow night. Plus, the more you looked at the water, the more you were able to make out a steep dropoff. It would probably be more comfortable for them to wade water there instead of being partially beached. “At sundown.” You decide, turning your attention back to him, and he’s practically beaming. 

“Okay! I’ll let them know.” His tail flicks up from the water, eager, and you take another step back, glancing back the way you came. 

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I need to get going now. Lots of work to do today.” You state, finding the strange feeling of reluctance creeping up inside of you. He appears mildly disappointed as well, smile falling some as he settles his fin back into the sand and sea. 

“Alright. I hope you have a good day. I’ll see you later,” He offers a friendly chirp of your name. You both wave, before you turn and make your way back to your temporary home, ready to learn a new craft.

[roleplayolyhedrons]

Where Do I Start?

Hint: It's not with D&D's 5th Edition.

If you’re looking to break into tabletop roleplaying games, you might be feeling like you’re trying to drink water from a firehose, or worse.

My recommendation?

Stay the f*ck away from Dungeons & Dragons, at least the three-volume set spanning over 1,000 pages. Instead, try something lighter.

Not convinced? I don’t blame ya.

Why lighter? you might be asking.

Lighter rulesets allow us to get our bearings, understand some fundamental concepts, and avoid being excluded long before we try to enter the hobby.

Still not convinced?

Think about it this way: When you were a kid, did you just jump on your bike, start peddling, and go a few dozen miles on

Think about it this way, too: You’ve probably played chess, poker, or any number of games. That’s great! You’ve probably played computer roleplaying games. That’s also great.

However, these aren’t the same as playing face-to-face, virtually, or otherwise, a game where you take on a single persona, sometimes more and sometimes other unusual things, interact with other players and their personas and deal with the conflicts and obstacles thrown at you by a referee, game master, or Dungeon Master.

In some roleplaying games, you might play as the player characters (PCs) and the referee. In any case, your imagination, and your ability to think through, play, and experiment is key. Some of these you’ve honed in other games. On the tabletop, you’ll bring them to bear.

These are different in that tabletop roleplaying games require players to go beyond simply clicking the right place, punching in the right combos, or laying down cards in a particular order. You need to think short- and long-term. Death is (mostly) permanent in many roleplaying games—no reloading saves to avoid death (although that should be a mechanic somewhere). You, as a player, need to rely on social skills, such as communication, playing nice, and collaboration with others. You’ll also need to think in terms of mechanics—how does this impact my play in-game, how can I use this to my advantage, etc.? You must manage resources, roleplay, problem-solve, and think creatively and critically to keep adventuring.

Roleplaying games can be easy, and they can be difficult to tackle. The best advice I can give, as an on-again, off-again player is this: Be prepared to fail, die, and have challenges. Also: Be active, negotiate, and make it an enjoyable experience for everyone by being there in the moment.

Where would I start now that roleplaying games have a bit more limelight?

I’d look for the freebies or the under $5/$10 (or whatever is cheaper in your local currency) games. The best places to start are the online quad: Itch.io¸ DriveThruRPG, Indie Press Revolution, and Exalted Funeral.

You also have Amazon and Lulu with some great indie games on those marketplaces, and you can never go wrong seeking out a local or regional game shop. With the COVID era behind us, some of these game shops have opted to sell online and deliver as well (keep an eye out for these shops).

Skim whatever you find, and then start playing with whoever is willing to go along for the ride—there are more out there these days than when I started, and it’s a great aspect of the hobby.

Need some suggestions? Here are a few to get you started (and, no, they aren’t D&D’s 5th edition):

Lasers & Feelings– Loads of people have hacked this game. The original rules are on it (click on the title for the direct link). Great for Star Trek-style games, space opera, and more. Easy to learn and play. Also: Easy to hack for homebrew games and long-term campaigns.

Breathless (Games) – The vast majority of the games built using the Breathless system are inexpensive, lightweight, super hackable, and friendly for beginners (click on the title for the whole catalog).

Cairn– For that classic D&D experience without the rules bloat.

Sherwood– A mixture of medieval fantasy, Robin Hood mythology, and arcane secrets unleashed.

Notorious — A fun science fiction game, with a recent expansion, that has you playing the notorious bounty hunters in a space opera universe similar to Star Wars.

Mothership – Uses a classic d100/particle die system. It’s a great intro to sci-fi OSR games that are easy to learn, play, and hack to meet any group or player's needs.

Ronin – An excellent solo roleplaying game.

Black Hack (Games) – Classic game hack of the original-ish Dungeons & Dragons, which includes sci-fi, fantasy, cyberpunk, and modern hacks of the original rules from The Black Hack (1st and 2nd editions).

P.S. All links above are not affiliate links. Happy exploring!

[carousel-crows]

3 please

Hi nonny! Number 3, "I didn't know you guys were together." "We're not."

btw, I tend to ignore the concept of homophobia. let my boys be happy.

———

Ice didn't understand how he had the best roommate and yet the worst co teacher.

Mav had decided to teach at TOPGUN. Ice had taken a position not long after. The previous teacher (callsign Boar) had been all too willing to go into retirement. Ice didn't blame him. Compared to this class, his class had been angels. Mav had agreed. These kids seemed to have forgotten what hygiene was. Being punctual was a foreign concept. 

They had decided it was cheaper to rent a house together than to each have their own apartment. And it worked well. They adhered to each other's boundaries, respecting the other's  property. Mav refilled the coffee machine and packed lunches, Ice opened all the curtains and made sure doors were locked before leaving. They mostly worked the same hours, and rode together often to save gas. Pete was a good roommate in general. 

He was a terrible coworker, though. 

Their teaching tactics were wildly different and often clashed. Maverick encouraged students to create their own maneuvers. Ice tended to stick to the book. Teaching with him was a test of patience. 

But he knew why Mav taught the way he did. He wanted to push these students to be better pilots than they already were. He wanted to protect them in the only way he knew how. 

It had been a particularly rough day. The car had broken down, so they had to take Mav’s bike. Ice was more than reluctant, but it was too far to walk. Ice had realized on his lunch break that he didn't have lunch. 

He'd gone to complain to Mav, or to ask for a ride back. He hadn't really known which. But he'd stepped out of his office and  walked down the hall into Maverick’s.

Now they were sharing lunch in Pete's office. He was sharing lunch with the secret love of his life.

“Who do you think is gonna be the next TOPGUN?”

“Well, Mudslide’s on top right now.”

“Ice, who do you think is going to win?”

“I just said.”

“No, you said who was winning now.”

“We aren't supposed to speculate.”

“Viper does.”

As if on cue, the man himself opens the office door. He was seemingly unaware of Ice's presence. 

“So Mav, for next week’s hop, I think you and Ice—”

Mav barely looks up from his half-sandwich. “Hmm?”

Viper is stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the pair. 

“Uh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch date. Uh. Sorry.”

“What's up, sir? The hop next week?” Mav completely ignored the awkwardness of the situation.

Date? The word sounded in his head like an alarm.

Mav and Viper carried on the conversation. Ice wasn't listening. Date?

He snapped back to reality. 

“I didn't know you two were together.” 

“We aren't.” Ice panicked.

“Oh. My apologies for assuming.”

“It's fine.”

He looked over to see Mav blushing furiously..

Viper left soon after, tossing a wink at Mav. Ice ate quickly, avoiding any conversation. What? 

Ice avoided him until it was no longer possible. If it weren't for the death machine he was riding home, Ice wouldn't have touched him. No matter how much he wanted to.

Dinner was even more awkward. It was his turn to cook, which was usually fine. 

Except Mav wanted to help. Mav didn't know how to make a lot of dishes, so Ice had offered to teach him. And Mav liked to be involved. 

And he didn't seem to know what personal space is. They're standing almost on top of each other while Mav stirs the sauce. He crowds Ice instead of standing in front of the stove. Ice, in turn, tries to ignore the acceleration of his pulse. He can almost feel Mav smirking. 

The bastard.

“Are you gonna kiss me, Tom?”

“What?”

Mav turned around to look him in the eye. They were standing so close. Nose to nose. If he just leaned a little closer—

“Tom, you can do it. I know you want to.”

“What?” He glanced at Mav's lips, mesmerized.

Mav huffed. “Kiss me, dumbass.” 

So he did. Soft and chaste. A short one. But it was so much. He leans back ever so slightly, just to look Pete in the eyes. His eyes are almost glazed. 

A beat.

Then Mav wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in. A desperate, hungry kiss. He would never go without Pete's love again.

When Ice went to apologize to Viper for his behavior, the man seemed surprised. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Tom. I overstepped.”

“Well, sir,” Ice rubbed the back of his neck, “We kind of … are together now?”

Viper just laughed. 

“I know, my boy. I could see the tension between you two from the beginning of your class.” He smiled. “But now Slider owes me $20.”

WHAT?

———

hope you like it! Thanks for being so patient!

[lunarubra]

Life update

This past week has been incredibly tough for me, and I'm using this blog to vent and release the sadness, frustration, and grief I've been feeling. It's like therapy, but cheaper.

If you'd rather skip the heavy stuff, feel free, I don't want to bore no one. And I fell this might be a long one.

Lately, life has been intense both at work (I teach at a language Gymnasium) and in my personal life. I'm already stretched thin trying to balance everything, and then unexpected things happen that make me feel silly for thinking my own issues are significant.

Just two days ago, one of my students tragically passed away. The weather had finally turned nice, and he and a friend went for a bike ride. He lost control and fell down a steep slope at the side of the road.

After teaching him for two years and seeing him and his classmates every day, I can't help but feel a sense of responsibility. While I'm not their parent and I'm not much older than them, most of the time, I feel more like an older sibling than a professor. Even though I sometimes jokingly refer to them as a "herd of dunderheads," they mean a lot to me, and I deeply care about them—they are my kiddos. It's tough witnessing his classmates' reactions to what happened; they're devastated. Despite wanting to support them and be there for them, I find myself at a loss for big speeches or grand gestures.

I'm well aware of the larger issues in the world, but this loss really shook me. Returning to work afterward felt daunting, and even though I discussed it with friends and colleagues, it almost feels like old news already.

Teaching often feels like an uphill battle. You see so much potential in your students, but then they hit the teenage years and start doing the same silly stuff you did at their age, which brings a smile to your face. You try your best to support them in a world that isn't always kind to young people, encouraging them to appreciate the beauty around them and stay connected. And let's not forget, you still have to actually teach them something—it's your job, after all, not just babysitting. Balancing all these roles can feel like a constant struggle, but those moments when you really connect with them, when you witness their growth and development—those moments are pure magic.

Maybe that's why this loss hit me so hard. I saw so much potential in him, and now it feels wasted.

On top of everything, my partner got accepted to a prestigious hospital in Sweden for her specialization in pediatric surgery. I'm incredibly proud of her and fully support her dream, but her leaving means big changes for us. Maybe because of the recent loss or maybe just because it's been a rough time, I find myself slipping into old thought patterns that scare me.

Right now, I'm feeling sad, overwhelmed, and at my limit. I'm not sure how to handle it all. I think I need to start therapy soon, although it's not easy finding a good therapist here in Italy.

So, if you notice I'm not as active as usual, that's why. I already wasn't very active, but if I'm even quieter than usual, I apologize. I just don't have the energy or enthusiasm right now. It feels like I'm avoiding dealing with what happened.

Monday is the funeral, and I don't know how I'll be afterward. I'll probably take a break from blogging and writing for a while.

To my friends here, I always appreciate your messages and your support. I might not be super responsive, but I value each and every one of you. <3

[joy-haver]

What I learned from being sick.

When one thing goes wrong, it’s more likely that another will go wrong. But also, when you start to improve something, itll probably get easier to improve other things.

Everything is everything. Take small steps and big ones. prevent harm where you can. Cause and effect form loops that feedback and build more of what is already built.

This is the best thing and the worst thing. When you are in a position where things are going downhill so hard, it feel’s impossible to ever go up again. And that’s okay, it may be impossible. But what’s almost definitely possible is to slow it down. Remove as many factors from the loop as possible. Those that can’t be removed should be diminished.

What you will find is that you suddenly have all these small, positive feedback loops. Maybe youre eating in a way that makes you feel better, and that gives you more energy to cook, so you can eat a little better again and for a little cheaper. And maybe you are riding your bike a little more, which builds strength and makes injuries less common in your legs, and also means you can ride to pick up your own meds, making it less likely for you to get them late.

These small things add up. But more than that, they continually open up new opportunities for improvement that weren’t there before. This part of it is particularly important, because it means even the little things, the things that don’t amount to much on there own, don’t have to just be valued on their own merit. They are part of a greater push towards positive looping. They are integral steps that make up the whole.

But still, it’s not about “getting there”. There is no place to get too. You can’t go into this stuff hoping to be abled again. As much as possible, I’d advise avoiding specific goals. I really wanted to play guitar again and be able to draw. Those goals made me not see the possibilities of dobro and watercolor, which filled similar needs in my life, but we’re much more achievable with my hand issues.

It is good to know what needs aren’t being filled in your life, and to try and find the most accessible ways to fill them. We all need food, exercise, water, art, joy, time among plants, novelty, community, and deep trusting relationships. A big part of what disability is is not being able to get these needs met in the ways you want to or in ways that are best for you. This sucks. But sometimes, things are out of your control.

In AA, one asks for “The serenity accept the things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

With my disabilities, the courage to change what I can hasn’t been the primary limiter. The main issue I’ve had has been being too close minded on how something can change. I keep imagining narrower possibilities than what exists in reality. And that makes sense. None of us can see the whole of what’s possible at any moment. But that is where open mindedness and novelty can really open up a whole new world of recovery.

because recovery isn’t “I’ll be how I was before.”

It’s not “I’ll be the way I want to be” either.

Recovery is the process of learning how to fill your time. Recovery is the process of learning how to meet your needs. It’s about learning what options are available to you, and letting those lead to more options.

In doing this, start by doing whatever will be the most helpful for the least effort. This isn’t an exact science, and there is trial and error involved. For me, this means drinking enough water, eating within 3 hours of waking up, and putting on my back brace the moment my back reaches a certain pain threshold. Those are the easiest things I can do that will help the most. They form a foundation that allows me to do the next easiest, the next most helpful things, like the dishes, and socializing, and art. Those things help me cook more, thing clearer, and maintain my relationships of support with caregivers. All of that lets me exercise more, and build strength, and do laundry. Essentially, learn to apply the ideology of triage to your own disaiblity.

Okay< i don't have a conclusion to this that ties everything on it together, so ill say this

Everything is everything. Do what you can. Don't wait unless you have to.

[petiri]

What does a bike lane mean to the hood? As cities move to equalize transit corridors in a variety of ways - where does minimobility lie for low income black and brown communities? You won’t find bike shares or electric scooters in the hood until they become a symptom of gentrification. Bike lanes are the most common ways for cities to cheaply reinvest in mini mobility. But a bike lane spells the end for low income communities. Why is that? Why are black children on bikes seen as a criminal element while white commuters are signs of a progressive city? If bikes are a cheaper way of getting around, promote health and reduce congestion - why are low income people seen as less than for riding or walking to the corner store?

And this my fundamental problem with transit urbanists - why it’s all fine and dandy to talk about the land use of highway interchanges and the latest light rail to hit a metro area - all these things start and end with race and class. They will posit about bike lanes but duck their heads when communities ask what this means for them. A place with no sidewalks can’t bike before it can run.

Also I think Not Just Bikes is a hack.

[syntaxaero]

chipotle doesn't even tempt me anymore it'll be like :] come get ur Extras and it's shit like free chips (mid) or extra protein (their meat isnt really particularly tasty to warrant wanting more of it in my opinion) but also like i ride my bike a block down any direction and there's a dozen taquerias and food trucks and it's cheaper with more very well seasoned meat. like tough shit tbh

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

If they made Monty Python and Holy Grail today they could afford horses but they'd make all the actors scoot around on green boxes with tracking markers instead

"What on Earth is that?"

"What's what?"

"That thing you're on top of."

"What, this? Never seen a horse before, have you?"

"That's not a horse!"

"Of course it is."

"No it's not, it hasn't got a head! Or legs. Or any organic parts for that matter."

"It's vegan."

"It's on wheels."

"Do you mock my noble steed, sir?"

"Some steed that is. Can't even move on its own. I saw you riding up. You're straddling it and dragging it between your legs like a bike with two flats!"

"I concede that it may not be a horse in the present moment, let me put to rest the fact that it's supposed to be a horse. It's surely going to be one, once they get around to the whole CGI-ing it in business."

"A CGI horse?"

"It's amazing what they can do with computers these days."

"Who's this they you're going on about?

"The animators!"

"Why haven't they finished your horse yet? You look ridiculous up there."

"They're working on it! The studio gave them a full week to animate all the landacapes, costumes, props, monsters, dead actors, living actors who weren't allowed to read the whole script, and, as you can see, animals."

"One week? For all that?"

"That's what I said. Are we paying them to goof off? They should have it done in two, three days tops. They need to quit their whinging and start animating if they want to eat!"

"Is animation cheaper than animal handling?"

"No, I suppose it's not."

"If the animators aren't animating fast enough, and you're stuck dragging around your noble steed, which I must say looks like it'd be quite painful after a full day's shoot-"

"It chafes."

"-in that case, why not just rent a bloody horse?"

"Oh, shut up."

[clunelover]

I have a sudden desire to get back into biking (like, non stationary biking). When I was in high school, I watched Breaking Away and got very into it. I got a way too nice road bike for my high school graduation present, which I used a lot that summer before college, and then again after I dropped out and had free time, but then once I got a job I used it pretty rarely. I didn’t feel like I could safely lock it up anywhere, every part of it was too expensive. Then since I didn’t practice enough I never totally got used to that riding position, so rode it less and less…A few years ago I ended up donating it to a local nonprofit where teens learn to fix up bikes and then sell them for a reduced price. When I need to bike, I have been using this old Schwinn Searcher I bought used 15 years ago, that kept getting banged up and needing lots of work, such that over time I’ve probably sunk $500+ into a $75 bike and it still sucks to ride and skips gears all the time. Anyway, I told Jeremy I want to get back into riding and as such need a new bike. He’s annoyingly miserly and was balking at the idea of me getting a new bike because what if I fall back out of love with it. Now to be fair, I hadn’t looked at bikes in a long time and they’re a lot more expensive than I remembered! But so is fucking everything. He thought I should just pay to get this old one fixed up yet again. So I made him come to a bike shop with me so he could hear someone say "to get this all the way fixed up it will cost more than a much newer used bike in working order." We ended up trading it in, and putting that value ($47! Actually pretty good, considering!) towards getting Jeremy a new tire for his bike.

Then I thought while I was there, I might as well test a bike I might try to find used somewhere. The guy getting me set up with it was like "well based on your trade in bike, I’m thinking bikes have changed a lot since you’ve last looked at them" which I was inwardly indignant about, but turns out- yes! I’d heard of disc brakes but never ridden a bike with them. Also I didn’t know that gearing has been moving away from the 3-chainring style I’m so used to. I tried a bike with disc brakes and a 1x and it was so cool! I’m now in an irritated debate with Jeremy though - he thinks I should get a used bike off Craigslist cause it’s cheaper, and "I’m worried you won’t ride it enough," whereas I’m like "okay but that requires messaging with multiple Craigslist people and a lot of leg work and quite possibly leads to another situation where I have a bike that needs a lot more work than it’s worth, and by the way, I AM less likely to ride a crunchy old crap bike so then you’ll think you’ve proven a point." (Yes I know there’s a happy medium where you get a not dirt cheap used bike and it’s not crappy, or get a bike that needs only a minor tuneup to be not crappy, but also looking on Craigslist and fb marketplace it’s mostly barely used top of the line bikes that still cost thousands, or beat to hell bikes like the one I just got rid of. Some more in between ones but a lot of them not my size…etc. I went to the place my old good bike had been donated, but their inventory was limited and they were way backed up, so there’s a long wait to have them actually refurbished by the at risk teens in the shop.) So part of my desire to get a new bike/used bike from a shop, is that it’s not just the cost of the bike, it’s that plus whatever the value of my time sifting through listings is, and the time that adds to me being able to get one and start riding.

ANYWAY I’m going to meet a Craigslist person at the library tomorrow to check out a used Giant Escape that I think is overpriced but I’m also not positive and in any case I think I’d feel like a shitheel asking them to reduce it from $300 to $250 (esp if I’m wrong and it’s not actually overpriced) so I guess cross your fingers that it’s a perfect bike and seems worth the price and the problem can be solved. As an alternative, I’d accept traveling back in time to last winter/spring when more bikes were on sale, and realizing I wanted one then.

[strawberryblondebutch]

You ride a motorcycle?! You're so cool!

Yeah, it started out because bikes are significantly cheaper than cars and also easier to park, but I like the motorcycle experience way more … except when I get run off the road and come about half an inch from losing my eye.

Mrs Kiera refuses to ride with me. I can’t imagine why!

[argentis]

How long have you had your motorcycle license for now? What's it like having a bike VS a car? I imagine it makes shopping a bit of a pain - or do bikes have more storage on them than they appear?

1. I've had my learner motorcycle license for about 7 months now. I plan on going for my restricted after I hit 1000ks and do at least one Ride Forever course and/or one-on-one lesson to make sure I'm doing things correctly.

2. Motorcycle riding is a bit like riding a pushbike but no pedalling and the clutch is your Roman Empire.

I can't speak to personally owning or using a car since I have yet to get behind the wheel. Definitely better for all-weather use and there are different costs involved.

Vehicle registration (rego) for Despechá (Honda CB125F) is just over NZ$400 a year, compared to my dad's Ford Mondeo, which is a bit over NZ$100. This is due to the much higher ACC levy (about $300pa on mine, I pay more in GST than the actual license fee component of my rego) on motorcycles due to the increased risk of injury/death riding.

Fuel-wise, bike is far more economical. A full tank from empty would cost about NZ$30 (11L tank @ ~$2.70/L for 91 unleaded) at the current fuel prices and gets me about 700ks. Would be about $100 to fill the Mondeo for a roughly equivalent range.

Full coverage insurance costs for both vehicles is about the same at about $400pa.

Parking can be a lot cheaper for motorcycles (free dedicated on-street parking). Have to go out of your way for free on-street parking for cars in the city centre. Otherwise, paying at least $4 for an hour of parking.

Gear can be pricy too. Helmet is legally required, and gloves are the bare additional minimum for many, but ideally, you'd have a jacket and boots, and maybe pants. If not to avoid road rash, then to avoid hypothermia in winter. Though it's up to the individual and how much gear they want to wear.

You do get to use high occupany and some bus lanes if you ride here which can make some commutes quicker.

3. I've become a lot more mindful of how much I can carry on the bike. There isn't much stock storage on mine. Only enough space to store her toolkit and spare manual under the seat.

I don't use my bike for a lot of grocery shopping beyond picking up bread and milk so a backpack suffices. Planning on buying panniers and a tank bag but that's becoming less for shopping and more for future travel plans.

Some scooters do have a lot more storage under the seat or on the steering column. It depends on the model.