deegee

What my Father would call "Boys' Own" stuff...

So here's the thing. This one's going to be new to me, and maybe (I wouldn't attempt to guess!) new for some of you, as well. High fantasy? Been there, done that. Vampires? Got the t-shirt. Post-apocalyptica? I keep trying (and failing) to gain any traction. Fandoms? Sure. Plenty. But I'm a little bored with it.

My Dad was off-the-boat British, and any time I was out with the Scouts camping and building fires, or building a skateboard ramp, or otherwise engaged in generational tomfoolery, he'd call it "real Boys Own stuff." I think (correct me if I'm wrong) 'Boys Own' was an outdoorsy magazine from England.

What I want to do feels like Goonies. Or Stand By Me. Maybe 'Stranger Things' or the recent remake of 'It.' (I wouldn't know exactly... I have only seen part of S1 of Stranger Things.)

I'm in my late 40's. I'm a member of the 'Oregon Trail' generation. I can absolutely remember a time when I was sent out the front door and wasn't expected home till after the street lights came on.

So let's do some world-building here. We'll need a mission, or an adventure. The Goonies were looking for One-Eyed Willy's rich stuff. The gang from Stand By Me was looking for a dead kid their age who had gone missing. The Kids from It and Stranger Things were trying to solve strange occurrences in their neighbourhood. Heck -- the younger members of the Ghostbusters (in the new movies) were Bustin' on summer vacation!

So we need a backdrop, a set of circumstances that our small group finds themselves thrust into. Happy to discuss. (But be warned, I might throw a wrench in the works. For instance: maybe you suggest we build a demolition derby car for the fall fair. Maybe I counter with 'people are going missing at the fall fair.')

We'll need a crew of four or five, I think. And the Character Sheet will be pretty specific (TBD) as far as how your character interacts with the world, and how they impact the group, the 'role' they fill in our gang, and what they bring to the table in the adventure. (Remember, Vern had only $.06, and a comb, but he was the childlike innocence of Chris Chambers' gang.)

Who wants to be 13 all over again?

Disclaimer: this will be 18+ for potential themes, situations, maybe fantasy creatures or horror imagery, violence, and language, but it should go without saying it will not be 18+ for any sexual content. These characters will be minors.

Sci-fi interspecies galactic exploration type stuff

revisiting...

Titles are for Idiots who have Hope.

Thought I lost this book. Turns out it was just at the bottom of my ruck.

'Growing' season is upon us, which is always a wild ride. Finding a spot that won't get found / overrun / taken / wrecked is an exercise in careful planning. Rooftops are out. Too hot. Too difficult to bring water up / too hit-and-miss to capture falling water. High probability of crop failure.

But farming in the open is out, too. Too many critters that are hungry, too many humans (even now) that would spoil or steal what you worked on.

I tend to look for something protected, but secluded. Rare as hen's teeth, that. This many years since the fall, it's not an easy ask. However, there are some positives to lurking around this wasted land as long as I have. You tend to take note of likely candidates.

Found me a shack in what used to be wine country. Still got one a them clear plastic roofs. Built me some raised beds. Soil's good. Heat from the rain's good too. And it's tucked away behind overgrown vine. All benefits to the operation.

Means you gotta be somewhat local to tend the crops. But don't stay too close, too often. Raiders or scavvers will see the traffic patterns. Gotta come and go in different ways. Hide the entrance. Traps, too, if possible.

I got beans, cherry tomatoes, potato, and bell peppers on the go. We'll see what takes.

Word association Game!

crust

Titles are for Idiots who have Hope.

I was on the way from noplace to somewhere, fences long toppled, signs mostly illegible (or is it ineligable? I can't ever really remember) due to grafitti, rust, chem storms and acid rain. Having a paper map these days is a crap-shoot of guesswork. If you're originally from the area, maybe you have hand-me-down knowledge that this stretch of unremarkable black-top was once Highway 95. Or that the big, burnt-out church is at the corner of Pine and Queen streets. But more often than not, travelling through noplace, heading doggedly for the horizon, the towns are nameless, the street signs long gone.

But like I said. I was on my way from noplace to nowhere. And I found a trail. Coulda been an animal track, something cut into the brush by scavvers or traders. But nope. There, beside the trail-head as plain as you like, a sign board, letters burned into two planks, naming this place the Haldimand rail hiking trail.

I had to laugh. 'Hiking.' For people without a hundred ways to die in a given moment, pointless activities whose goal was exercise and bringing folks closer to nature, in a time when all of that was optional.

Fuckin' Yuppies.

Word association Game!

Sllooooooooww

Dee's NSFW prompt

Up!

Dee's NSFW prompt

(hard) bump

Titles are for Idiots who have Hope.

Stupid, dumb luck. Sometime, the world works in weird ways. Didn't know I needed this, but apparently I did.

Was in a home, searching (as ever) for the things that sustain life, in a world perpetually bent on killing you. Found a somehow-nearly-untouched kids' room, and there was a plastic model, started, but unfinished, on the kid's desk. Glue was still viable.

So, here I am, sitting in the kid's red desk chair, gluing spark plug wires. Who knew that building a '56 Bel Air would make me feel so normal, for a few hours? I think I'll leave it on the kid's desk.

Too bad, all the paint is dried out.

Titles are for Idiots who have Hope.

Day ???

I'm sick. Flu, maybe? Maybe just a head-cold. Disoriented. Fever. Chills. Coughing. I checked to see if I had any cuts or injuries. Nothing. Took the last of my ibuprofen yesterday. The problem is finding a place to hole up that isn't infested with mold, or rats, or rot, or damp, or cold. Most 'shelter' is just a wind-break from the open. Old homes are fine for exploration, for looting (if there's anything that ain't already been taken...) but staying? Staying a night? Many nights? That is rare, now. When I was a kid, sure. But those days are long gone.

People built houses with the notion that there would be power, and heat, keeping them viable. Without that, it's astonishing how fast the old world fell. But sick like this, I can't just camp out under the stars. I wouldn't make it. Exposure. Weakness. Wild animals. I need a place I can disappear for a few days. This is a truly dangerous time for survivors.

I read once (or maybe somebody told me, and I believed them, doesn't matter) that humanity, such as it was back before, only became a 'society' when we started caring for our sick. When we stopped just leaving them behind, to live or die. When we were secure enough to take the time to nurse someone back to health.

I could use some-a that right abouts now.

*six hours later*

goddamn pencil. gotta find me a new one.

Found a garage. roof hadn't caved in. Roll-up door was still in place, covered in weeds and vine. I climbed in a window. soaked my wood in something that seemed flammable. Now I'm hunkered down in some sort of service trough, under an old truck, out of sight, but warm, with firewood to spare, and a roof over my head. I checked. Can't see nothin' from outside. laid some boards against the one window. Hope it's enough. I got no strength left. Gotta sleep.