#cyclist at work

[alittlecrow]

Portrait study from the Solitary Cyclist.

I started this in July with the intention of finishing it before the Letters from Watson substack finished SOLI and that did Not happen.

I’ve been gradually chipping away at it ever since with it being about 20hrs just for the digital rendering. And it only took that long because I had to keep scrapping and restarting Holmes’ face and hand. All my love for Jeremy Brett, but his face is so specific that it was the greatest struggle to get his likeness any decent. And I still find it lacking. But what can you do.

I appreciate the learning experience this gave and it’s made me increase my efforts in digital painting in the weeks since I started it. And my complaints aside, I really did enjoy the process. Frustrating at times, but very rewarding. And I’m quite proud to have finished it instead of leaving it in my wips folder for eternity.

Anyways, bonus traditional sketch with too big Holmes Head and too small Watson Head and initial color comp.

[msmargaretmurry]

awful. just awful. i keep trying to figure out what to say and there truly are just no words. and no matter how devastated i feel i'm sure it's not one fraction of an iota of how the gaudreaus' loved ones feel. it's just unfathomable. horribly and infuriatingly tragic.

mostly i am posting not because i have anything to add to the conversation other than more grief but because i want to send love to any hockeyblr pals who are also struggling with how awful this is and remind anyone who needs it that your grief doesn't have to look a certain way. if going through the johnny tag and remembering happier times helps you then yes absolutely do that, but if you need to disengage or mute or take some time then you should do that, too ❤️ love u all.

[remcocoa]

i’m like. 90% sure it’s trine filming this video btw

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Not Your Fault (Arya to Eragon)

A part of the 2024 Modern Inheritance Whimsical Whumps of Winter prompt challenge! This is a mix of the prompt Nightmares (Eragon) and Not Your Fault (Arya to Eragon). Prompts are still open so feel free to submit a request via reply, dm, ask or reblog!

I tried my best but I don't think it's exactly what you were looking for @thearunadragon so I apologize in advance. You could look at this as a bit of a tie in to the previously established story far earlier in the timeline (as this story takes place in the weird and wild extended war area and the story I'm about to mention is immediately post-Brisingr) Collateral as it deals with some similar topics.

Anyways, on to it!

TW: Mentions of child death, civilian death in warzones, soft target deaths and general war trauma. ~~~ Eragon pries himself from his Waking Dreams, haunted by the specters of civilians lost in a recent battle where he was the leader. Unable to bring himself to tell Saphira of another guilt she does not fully understand, the young Rider finds himself aimlessly wandering the Varden's camp, followed by his Waking Dreams, until he comes upon Arya having her own moment alone on a cold night. ~~~

“Can I…” Movement in the corner of his vision stopped Eragon’s question dead. The little girl was still there, staring at him with wide, frozen eyes. 

“You said we were safe there!” Her voice wasn’t accusing. Shit, sometimes he preferred when they were aggressive, so he could push back and not feel so ashamed of it. But she– ‘Vivian.’ he remembered with a hollow pang, the screams of the child’s mother echoing through his skull –Vivian always sounded so small and terrified. Confused. “You said we were going to be okay!”

Eragon closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. The icy air stung his nose and crackled in his lungs. Even with the world shut out for a moment, he could still see the ghost of his Waking Dreams there. Off to the side still. Clutching at the gore soaked fabric of her woolen dress where shards of metal had shorn the cloth away to reveal destroyed flesh beneath. 

“Can I sit with you?”

Arya gave him one of her half quirked grins. “Thought we were past you having to ask.” With a sweep of her hand the woman cleared the thin layer of snow that had collected on the frozen ground beside her. “All yours.”

Eragon did his best to return the smile despite the child weeping in the corner of his eye. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” 

They sat together in silence. At least, it was mostly silent. Even at night the sounds of the Varden’s camp continued, subdued by the decrease of alert inhabitants and muffled by the thin blanket of snow falling around the tents. 

And of course, it wasn’t silent for Eragon. Somehow Garrow had entered his Waking Dreams, admonishing the little girl for getting so messy, telling her in clipped tones that Eragon couldn’t be everywhere at once, so stop whining that he let her die. After all, he let his own uncle die, the man who raised him, so how–

“Who are you seeing?” 

Eragon jolted at Arya’s voice, his head snapping to locate the sound despite her proximity. The elf turned the page of the small book she had splayed open on the fingers of one hand, entirely nonchalant. When the Rider did not answer, she repeated her question. “Who are you seeing?”

The young man worked his mouth, trying to find words. How could she tell? “I’m not sure I understand your–”

“If I don’t get to lie to you about my shitshow nights, then you don’t get to lie to me about yours.” Marking her spot with a finger, Arya closed the book and turned her head to look him dead in the eye. Ah. Of course she could recognize it. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you.”

Eragon couldn’t tell if it was relief that rushed into his chest, or another wave of hurt. There he went, worrying the people around him again. 

He had so, so many people he could go to that would meet him with understanding and support. Brom, Glenwing, Roran, even Nasuada and Katrina had all comforted him in their own ways when he had confessed his troubles to them in confidence. Not to mention Saphira, his Partner of Heart and Mind, his everything, his other half! 

And yet somehow, sometimes, none of them completely understood. Even Saphira, who did all she could to give him comfort and clarity, did not always understand how he felt about the war. About the lives taken, intentionally or not. The others did, in their own way. Everyone experienced it differently after all. 

But this was Arya. Arya, who had joined the war at what was considered the elven equivalent of the age Eragon had found himself swept into the conflict. Who, at least from what he had learned, spent more nights awake than most grappling with her own feelings of how her actions affected those around her, and how to best take the weight off the shoulders of her comrades in arms. Duty and sense of right and wrong clashing with what needed to be done, making the choice and living with it. 

Maybe that was why he came to her, after all. Not Saphira, nor Brom, Glen, Roran. To her, the only other person who might truly, fully understand where this pain, this guilt, was coming from. 

His shaky breath out spawned a cloud of mist in the air before him. “I’ve been…having nightmares again.” 

“Visions?”

“No.” Eragon shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just…” He bit his tongue as Vivian’s crying reached a hysterical pitch. “The wolves. In my head again.” 

Arya did not respond with words. Instead, Eragon felt warmth hovering over the back of his hand and flicked his gaze down to find that the elf had hesitantly reached out to him. He gave her a tiny nod and her fingers settled over his, a point of contact for him to follow should he fall. 

“I keep thinking about the last mission. That town.” Vivian abruptly stopped crying at Arya’s touch. She vanished into the softly falling snow, Garrow following her, as Eragon finally shook off the final dregs of waking sleep with his continued speech. “I know…I know we did everything we could to get the civilians out of the way, but…” His voice caught suddenly. “The little girl. And all the others. So many of them died.”

“I can’t stop thinking that…” Eragon swallowed, the next words thick in his throat. A grim confession, an admittance of his guilt. “That she died, and the others died, because we were there.” The young man tightened his grip on his knees, fighting to contain the tears that welled up. “That fight wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t there. And it wouldn’t have gotten so out of control if Saphira and I weren’t there. It’s my fault.”

Arya did not answer immediately. The elf took a moment to properly mark the page she had held with her finger and set the book aside before she leaned her head against the rock at their backs. Eragon took no offense at her pause, having long ago come to understand that when Arya took her time it was out of sincere care for the subject at hand. 

She took a long, calming breath in before letting it steam out of her nose in twin clouds of vapor in the chilled air. 

“Your logic…” Arya began slowly. “Is not inherently wrong.” Eragon’s stomach sank. She must have caught his dropped expression, because the woman put her hand out in a gesture of calm. “Hold on. Let me finish. Your logic is not inherently wrong, but it only takes into account a single moment.”

Arya held her extended hand up and curled it into a fist, her thumb extended to the side. “Yes. That fight would not have happened if the Varden had not sent us there. However, the Varden would not have sent us there if the Broddring soldiers were not sent there to conscript all the men in that town for Galbatorix’s army.” She raised her pointer finger. “The need for more men to be conscripted to Galbatorix’s army would not have happened had the Varden not engaged the Empire in full scale war.” Another finger joined the others. “The Varden would not have engaged the Empire in full scale war had Galbatorix not sent the Urgals to Farthen Dûr to attack the resistance at its heart.” Again, another. 

“Eragon, I could go on and on and on.” Arya dropped her hand. “I can go back over a hundred years, to the day that Galbatorix and Jarnunvösk chose to enter the Spine knowing full well that it was Urgal territory and arrogantly considered themselves untouchable despite the known risks.” 

Eragon wiped his eyes. Even as the woman spoke, he felt the lump in his throat rising. “That’s true. But I still gave the orders that day. I…I’m the one who told the families to hide in that part of town, even though–”

“Eragon. Stop.” Rough palms settled on his cheeks, gently turned the young Rider to face her. Arya’s eyes shone in the darkness, flickers of familiar pain that Eragon was sure he would see had he found a mirror that night. “Enough. It was not your fault. This war, it is not your fault.” 

“But–”

“Shush.” Soft but commanding, Arya silenced him with a finger to his lips. “It is not your fault, and it is not Saphira’s fault, that you both were thrown into this war. This war was made by a man who never took time nor responsibility for his grief and instead decided to inflict it on the world. 

Every day, since the day I met you, I have seen you and Saphira take action.” She lifted his chin, swiped away a tear with her thumb. “And every time, I see you both consider the consequences in all that you do. You came into this war as children, forced into it without a choice in the matter, and you both have learned and grown so much despite your circumstances.” 

Eragon swallowed hard and tried to shake his head. Saphira, he would agree, had taken on her role like a fish to water, like…well, like a dragon to the skies. But him? The scruffy farm boy, the fool who had not only taken part in battles where hundreds of lives had been lost, but the imbecile who had cursed an innocent babe, had failed to save so many, had–

Arya’s voice took on a brittle tone for a brief moment. “Eragon, if you keep disagreeing with me right now while I’m trying to comfort you and explain this, I swear I’ll have Saphira relocate the cook tent’s viscera pile to your bedroll. Am I clear?” 

Oh, he did not doubt her in the slightest. He summoned his will to, at the very least, bite his tongue and nodded.

“Good. Now. I have met countless men and women three times your age and more, who hold the lives of their troops in their hands, and they did not even consider what could happen when they give their orders and make their choices. They didn’t even give time to the idea of thinking any of it over! But you and Saphira do.” 

Arya gave him a soft smile. “So I know. I know neither of you intend to hurt anyone you don’t have to. You try so hard to keep the civilians out of it. You set clear, hard boundaries and fight for them when they are tested or broken. But war…fuck, war hurts. It hurts everyone. And if you didn’t feel some guilt then I’d honestly be more worried about you than I constantly am!

“Eragon, it is not your fault that war did what war does. You and Saphira did everything in your power to try and keep those people safe. You stacked the deck in their favor and yet war decided to say ‘fuck you’ and snapped a cable in some shitty old Broddring artillery that shouldn’t have even been there and shouldn’t have been aimed into a town allied with its owners and sent a fucking cannonbomb into what happened to be the same area we, yes, we, agreed to shelter the civilians while we rooted out the soldiers.” 

Arya released her grip on his face and shifted her hands to his shoulders. “Eragon. It was not your fault.” She shook him gently. “Say it.”

“I–”

“Say. It. Don’t you call me a liar to my face. Say ‘War sucks. It’s not my fault.’”

Eragon dropped his gaze. “War sucks. Not my fault.”

“Say it again and maybe I’ll hear it this time.”

He breathed in. Breathed out. “War sucks. It’s not my fault.”

“One more time and maybe I’ll believe you.”

That quirked a tiny smile at the edges of his lips. Hell. He was starting to believe it himself. “War sucks. It’s not my fault.”

The elf pulled him closer after the words left his mouth and, in one of the favorite little gestures they shared, pressed their foreheads together. No words were spoken, just a thread of relief that passed between them in the contact. His relief at the confirmation of his lack of guilt, and hers at his understanding of what she tried to convey.

And then Arya drew back and settled against the rock again, shoulders squared. The posture told the Rider multitudes. Eragon was with her, and he needed help. Arya was protecting him, alert, watchful, that vigilance colored with warm care towards her friend. Not quite On Duty, but happily taking him on to keep his demons, real or imagined, at bay. 

He couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

Eragon sniffed one final time and rubbed away the last traces of tears on his face. He already knew her answer from the way she had shifted, but he always felt the need to ask. "Can...Can I stay here? I don't want to worry Saphira. She'd understand better if she finds you watching me."

"You can stay, but only if you get in here. I’m fucking freezing." Never taking her eyes off the tents around them, Arya lifted her arm so that her cloak opened to him, gathered warmth spilling out into the chill night. "Come on."

The easy smile she gave him was all he needed in that vulnerable moment. Eragon scooted over and let the elf drape her arm over his shoulders and rearrange the warm fabric so that it wrapped around them both. A gentle squeeze had him leaning into her side. He tucked his legs up to where he had pulled his arms and fists under his chin, and just like that...Eragon found himself being cuddled.

Arya rubbed his far shoulder with a quiet sigh that ghosted puffs of mist into the air. "Damn, you've definitely got that elven blood going. You're warmer than you used to be." With a deft flick of her wrist the elf opened her book to the page she had marked. "Now get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere." It was silent for a handful of seconds after Eragon closed his eyes. “...You’re going to keep me safe if Saphira gets jealous of this, right? This is usually her move.”

Eragon let a sleepy smile grace his lips. “I’ll try my best, but no promises.”

“Fantastic. Go to sleep, dork.”

[bitchfitch]

About your post on being blind in one eye. I was born with stereoblindness (lack of depth perception) and it affects my life pretty substantially. I actually was not allowed to get a drivers license because of it.

I hope this doesn't come across as rude, but are you certain that you should still be driving? It sounds very dangerous, coming from someone who has this disability. Lack of depth perception makes it a challenge for me to do a lot of things, much less driving a 1-2 ton metal death machine.

For example, I ride my bike everywhere. Drivers are constantly veering into the bike lane because they either don't see me or don't realize how far they're going into my lane. Also, they'll turn right in front of me and cut me off dangerously close. I feel lacking depth perception would make incidents like this more likely.

Again, this is not to be rude or anything. And I know you said you drive more carefully because of it, but as someone who was denied the ability to drive for that very reason it's just kind of confusing to me. And as a cyclist especially im constantly at risk to drivers who aren't Noticing how close they are to me.

I've been driving for four years and haven't so much as gotten a speeding ticket, and I passed my driver's Ed test with a perfect score. I'm an Extremely good driver despite my vision issues in part because I'm uniquely aware of the fact I can't tell how far anything is and so give everything a Much wider berth than necessary

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Riding to work, May 1958.

Photo: John Vachon for Look magazine via MCNY

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 733: Sugimoto vs Danchiku

Pag 1

1: By the way, Sugimoto-san, what about your “special technique”?

2: … ah

3: My self-awareness isn't that low that I didn't come prepared!!

Pag 3

2: Huh!?

3: He.... has it? A “special technique”!?

4: Sugimoto!!

5: I'll tell you one more time.... one more time

Pag 4

1: Come at me!!

Danchiku Ryuuhou!!

2: Go, Danchiku!!

4: Garu-

Pag 5

1: Bamboo Hop Shot!!

Garuaaa

Pag 6

4: He caught up in an instant!!

5: Nice, Danchiku

Pag 7

1: Keep going like this, pass him and tear him off!!

2: Sorry, Sugimoto-san, but!!

Please let me pass you, garuaa!!

3: I won't let you

4: do that, Danchiku!!

Pag 8

3: Damn!! Haha in such a crucial moment!! All these trees block the view and we can't see!!

Hahah!!

4: What happened to those two, teh...

It looked like Danchiku-san caught up to him in one go and passed him ,but

Pag 9

1: Sugimoto!!

2: Sugimoto!!

3: Don't worry, first years!! Once we pass these trees we should see that Danchiku tore Sugimoto-san off and opened a distance of 100... no, 200m

Teh!!

4: He'll be riding in the lead!!

5: Ah, right, that's true

6: There's something I heard from the senpais.... until now, Sugimoto-san never stood out in races or got any good result... he even retired sometimes...

7: On the other hand, last year during the Minegayama Hill-climb race, Danchiku-san fought against a guy from Hakone Academy who had participated in the Inter High

8: And he won!!

Teh!?

The difference in their strengths has always been....

Pag 10

1: clear...

Huh!?

Pag 11

1: They're neck and neck!!

2: Sugimoto-san!!

5: He's following!! Woah

He's working hard to stay lined up to him, teh, Sugimoto-san!! Huh!?

Pag 12

2: Haha, what are you doing, Danchiku!!

You have to pedal seriously!!

3: …. I was pedaling seriously....

6: When we passed the curve with the thick trees, I bent my frame with all my might

Pag 13

1: We hit each other's shoulders, and I thought he would falter

2: Then I kept accelerating like that and thought I could leave him behind

3:  But this guy

4: didn't fall behind!!

5: Moreover.... usually, when you're chasing an opponent, you stay behind them

You use your opponent against the wind... but this guy.... when accelerating now

Pag 14

1: He lined up next to me!!

As if he just wanted to prove that we're “equal”!!

2: Knowing that he's wasting his stamina!!

4: Of course, the second year is doing his best

So I, as a third year.... in this race

5: I'll let him practice against someone more experienced than him!!

Pag 15

3: Issa.... I...

Calm down, Danchiku!!

4: You're stronger than him!!

You're stronger!! It's alright, he justhappened to be able to follow you with his eyes in this first attack, that's it

5: Attack over and over again and you'll tear him off!!

This guy can't keep up with you so many times!!

6: Kaburagi-san... incredible.... teh

Yeah.... even though Sugimoto-san is right next to him, he's dissing him to his face....

7: Don't falter, have confidence, Danchiku

Yeah!!

8: Sugimoto-san!! For now, how about we say you race until that line over there?

The sun will set soon

This lap will be like...

Pag 16

1: “500km” for each other!!

5: A “special technique”, in other words, it's the momentary activation of you own's “field of expertise”

6: Understanding your own “field of expertise” polishing it up, consciously controlling and, it in time of need – that specialty...

Pag 17

1: letting it explode

-go!!

2: But that's not something everyone can do

3: And it's especially troublesome when you can't find your own “special technique”

4: Or it could be that for most people, they don't know what they excel in, what their specialty is

5: And in that moment, they have no choice but spend time looking for it

Pag 18

1: Using their intelligence and body, facing themselves and trying out

Over and over again

2: Only in the midst of “failure” you can find it

3: “Failure”, huh

4: Then, about that

Pag 19

1: you might be the most experiecned among us!!

Pag 20

1: Dammitl, he caught up again!!

2: What's this guy's deal...

Even though he's so out of breath!!

3: Danchiku!!

4: Back... back in the day....

5: Here is Sohoku there was a person called Tadokoro-san

His body was so huge... and he always thought of his kouhai

Pag 21

1: He said that in order to be fast, “oxygen” was important

So

2: I practiced runnin whil taking in oxygen a lot

3: And there was a person called Kinjou-san, and he was very skillful in controlling the bike, so I practiced imitating his bike control

5: It was all a failure, but, but, Danchiku- have you ever heard these words?

6: In road racing the most important things are “practice” and

Pag 22

1: “Experience”!!

6: Sugimoto-san jumped ahead!! Chyase him!! Danchiku!!

[viagginterstellari]

Gardener - Maramures, 2021

[theelementaryparticles]

Commuting mode activated.

[pkmndaisuki]

jesus can i not have an anxiety nightmare i basically scream myself awake from in a sweat at around 5am that'd be great

[decidentia]

Just a note to say thanks for bearing with me. ♡

[fcktaken]

oh the sweet innocence of unquestioned heterosexuality and gender conformity

[angelsonthesideline]

I just got back from torturing myself with downtown Toronto traffic/drivers/cyclists to go to my favourite sex shop and pick up an order. Usually, I just wait for their super quick and efficient shipping to save me the anxiety, but it wouldn’t have arrived in time.

If he ever says I don’t care.. I WOULD NOT HAVE DONE THAT FOR MYSELF (my ass would have just waited but if I had waited, I wouldn’t have gotten it til next week, and I won’t be seeing him again for another 2 weeks after this weekend to be able to fulfill this fantasy for him).

[remcocoa]

now hold on just one minute

[modern-inheritance]

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you your current, temporary queen of the fair folk

(It's directly after the Lords of House have abruptly informed Arya and Glen that, Surprise! Arya is the queen for now. And she needs to get to that meeting with everyone else to declare Nasuada queen. Like, NOW. Except she's tired, and sore and just...oh wait they were passing out fortified nectar earlier...)

Arya: I'll do my best but I'm not exactly– Oh wait, hang on. Glen, do those have straws? Glen: *passes Arya one of the nectar bottles and a bendy straw* Arya: Ah, cheers. Arya: *sticks bendy straw in, bends the top part to be pointing down the main body of the bottle, pauses and glances at the still gathered Lords of House, lead by Däthedr* Um... Arya: Welcome to the next unknown period of rule? Cheers. Arya: *knocks the bottle back and fucking DRAINS the entire thing in seconds* Glen: Poor timing, but that's a new record. Däthedr: *polite clapping, is not joined by the others who are staring mouths open* Arya: *wipes mouth on bandages* Alright, time to go lead a fucking nation. Shame this is a glass bottle, perfect time for a head crush. Däthedr: Shock them only once a day, little one. One step at a time.

[tiffanyachings]

can't believe there's cycling helmet discourse happening on tumblr dot com and i wasn't invited