#the same bicycle i rode every day to work

[sadsackpostteen]

Introducing: shared bicycles

Cr: weibo, more weibo

[jaysng]

confessing to his mute crush | pjs

pairing: jay x deaf!reader

genre: complete fluff

summary: jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising.

“i. hope. i. am. not. late”  jay signed and chuckled as he fixed his cross body bag standing nervously infront of you which got out of place while he was running to the stop you had asked him to be at.

you smile at him, knowing he recently had learned sign language just to be able to communicate with you and so he was, a little slow and not so clear. 

you loved cycling alot, and bought this brand new bicycle and you had asked him if he wanted to spend a day out riding it and then go off to the beach and sit there. 

jay and you met through the same animal care shelter you guys volunteered to work at, his charming smile immediately caught your attention. however it was hard to communicate with your muteness, you only knowing sign language and him knowing none of it.

however within a span of few months, jay started learning it to be able to communicate with you. 

it made your heart flutter, i mean it’s the effort and dedication. still you asked yourself ‘does he even like me back?’

“is. this. the. new. cycle. that. you. bought?”he asked as you nodded and got off it, you touched the cute basket decorated with a small miffy teddy and a pink bow, it also had the dirty wrapper of chocolate you ate earlier. 

embarrassed, you took it out and threw it somewhere on the ground.

“i decorated it” you signed as he looked at you and smiled, making you blush as you looked away, anywhere but his eyes. 

“예쁘다” he said, even though you obviously didn’t hear him you read his lips quickly anyways. signing a quick thank you you sit back on your cycle and signal him to sit. 

he sits behind you hands on your shoulder as you begin to hit the pedal and ride around the city. 

some moments later you feel jay’s hand shifting from your shoulder to your waist now that you’re cycling in a well pace. 

the wind blows on your face blowing your hair back at his face too, you hit the break for a moment and turn around and give him an apologetic look. 

he smiles at you taking your hair and putting them to one side of your shoulder and keeping his chin on the other, staring at you the entire time he does so.

you squirm and try to get used to the feeling of his charp chin on your shoulder as it’s digging through. 

you shove the feeling off as you start riding again, this moment was really perfect for you, everything was so good. a nice cloudy, windy weather with your favorite person  friend hugging you by the waist and face on your shoulder, what a dream really.

you guys rode the cycle around the city, stopping by a store to get ice cream, as you parked your cycle near the store you guys stood on the footpath and he bought some ice cream.

you looked at him to see if he finished his and you caught him staring at you, he pretended to look around and controlled his cheeky smile but then something else caught your attention wired headphones connected to his phone in his pocket.

you grab them and gain his attention as he looks back at you “you like music?” he nodded and took his phone put of the pocket searching for something. 

curiously, you stared as you got closer to see his screen “this. is. my. favorite. song” he signed enthusiastically as you widen your eyes giving him a cheering gesture.

you stopped as you looked at him “i wish i could listen to it.. it must be nice” silence filled the space between both of you as you stared deep into you while smiling “it is.”both of you finished the ice cream before it melted.

after cycling and strolling around the pretty city here you were sitting on the rocks of the beach as the wind blew every once in a while.

jay had this thing forever in his mind, he loved you he loved you so damn much. everything you did got him screaming internally to wife him up.

“it’s fun being with you, you know?” you signed as jay felt his heart racing a million times in a second what could she mean by that? she probably meant as a friend right? or am i letting my stupid thoughts take over. 

“thank. you.” he says as you close your eyes and give him the widest smile. 

being with him made you feel full, it made you feel like finally you had a friend. but you quickly fell in love with him because of his mannerisms.

even though at school no one really bullied you, but there wasn’t something big for someone to  findi you interesting. emptiness fill inside of you, as for others you were just there, not enough things to be interesting for someone. or atleast for the people around you. jay knew these very well that’s why he hated the fact he fell in love with you so fast and was worried that you might reject him because of how fast everything would happen.

but little did he know that your feelings were pretty.. mutual you can say.

there was a wooden stick in your hand with which you were doodling on the beach sand with, jay was observing each and every move.

with that lavender sundress you were wearing it made everything 10 times cuter in his eyes. the way the wind slightly blew back your hair but you kept on fixing it.

you started moving the stick and you wrote your name’s inital with did adding a unfilled heart after it and looked at jay “want to try?” you ask bringing the stick closer to him as he accepts it. 

he looks at you for a second passing you a lovestruck look. 

J +

he writes before your names inital as you shoot him a confusing look with a nervous smile. 

he looks at you as his smile drops, emotions very visible in his eyes. 

=

he adds an equals to sign between your inital and the unfilled heart, following with filling the unfill heart that you drew. 

your smile drops as you stare back at him, completely in shock and he stares back with a regretful look in his eyes. 

you watch him take a big breath after looking at your reaction, not quite promising is it.

“i. like. you.” you sit there, puzzled. you don’t know whether to do something or cry, the moment feels unreal. 

it all felt so quick that you didn’t realise you haven’t responded to him yet for about past five minutes atleast. 

his hopeful looks now dies as he apologizes and stands up, “i am sorry, i am sorry, sorry i should leave i should probably leave.” he says as you try to read his lips “sorry…. should leave” you could pick up some of the words not many because of how rapid and low his mouth worked. 

you watch him stand up quickly wearing his bag not even sparing another glance at you as he starts walking away.

you felt your cheeks getting warm as everythinf starts getting blurry due to the upcoming tears.

you shake and get up dropping your own bag on the floor. 

“stay” 

did i say it right? you swore you heard the vibrations in your body of your own voice. not fully hearing what you said or if you said it right or no. 

breathing heavily, jay stops in his tracks as he turns around and stares at you in disbelief as you break down. right on that spot you were standing at. 

the word wasn’t clear and mix of broken and light cracks of course, a very weak one because of the vocal chords.

you felt bad for making him wait for so long or making his excitement go away for taking your no response as rejection.

you were just shocked, he actually liked you back? your entire life you felt so neglected and behind just because you were deaf, but now some thing good is finally.. happening?

now standing in a distance both of you staring at each other as he watches uncontrollable tears flow down your face as you sign a ‘i like you too.” while lowering your head and start sobbing. 

jay runs back to you and closes the distance, both of you hug like losers. 

because of the closeness you can feel his body vibrations and shivering, as you realise that he is crying you push him back to see his eyes now your eyes widened “why are you crying silly i should be the one crying..”

he just shrugs while trying to give you a smile and crying.

you bring your hands to wipe his tears off as you hold his face. his hands naturally rest on your waist. 

for a short moment you guys look deep into each other’s eyes as you lean in signaling for a kiss.

you felt him giggling like a teenage boy as he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to yours. 

he could taste the strawberry ice cream you ate earlier on your lips, your scent filling his nostrils and working as a hypnosis.

you pull away taking a long breath, “wasn’t it too long for a first kiss?” you sign while wiping away your own tears now and laughing.

once again complete silence fills the beach as the only thing playing if only you could hear, was the sound of the waves. both of you completely lost in each other’s eyes, it was like your eyes are speaking it all for you. 

but you noticed it, you noticed he was holding back a reply so you hit his chest “say it. say what you want to say.”

he broke the eye contact looking away at the sea, the waves coming and hitting the shore as his stupid smile came back on his face. 

he looked back at you and fixed your hair, brought his hands back to himself and signed at you. 

“i. could. kiss. you. for. an. eternity.”

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Like Breathing - One

Title: Like Breathing

Word Count: 3.2k

Part Warnings: Dead and injured animals, killing animals, blood, harassment, and stitching up wounds

Summary: Bucky’s life in Cove is far from perfect, mostly because Cove’s residents want nothing more than to scare him away. Luckily for you, Bucky isn’t easily scared off.

A/N: This is the first part of Like Breathing. I hope you enjoy! As always, thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Translations:

Маленький = Little one

Like Breathing Masterlist

Bucky didn’t kill anymore. His therapist reminded him of that daily, which he loathed, but he still nodded along every time she said it. Of course, it wasn’t true. Bucky had killed yesterday.

The sleepy little town he had been placed in as part of his pardon was practically idyllic. Neatly trimmed lawns lined litter-free streets, and each afternoon when the schools let out, children rode their bicycles up and down the sidewalks. They played ball in the cul-de-sac and Bucky swore that one afternoon he’d even seen an ice cream truck turn the corner west of his house. The ranch-style, one bedroom home had been loaned to him by the FBI. It wasn’t something Bucky would have picked on his own, but Steve had reassured him that once he got his bearings, he could decorate it to feel more like his own place. Bucky had not done that. Everything was exactly as it was the day he moved in—basic furniture with no decor. The only personal items he kept were his clothes, a small box containing pictures and other items sent to him by the Smithsonian, and his laptop, which was also given to him by the FBI. It was most likely bugged, just like the house and the phone. The majority of the items in the house were either already there when he moved in or things he’d purchased for Alpine. Bucky always thought of those as her personal items, not his. She was the only other living being that had ever been in his house. Not even Steve had come to visit.

In the four months he’d lived in Cove, he had limited his interactions to the soft-spoken volunteer at the animal shelter and the older woman who manned the register at the pet store. Both of them had been instrumental when he adopted Alpine, a soft white cat who’d been surrendered to the shelter after she’d hissed at the previous owner’s kids. Bucky didn’t think that was a good enough reason to get rid of a pet. He hadn’t planned on getting a cat, or any kind of animal for that matter, but after his therapist suggested it, Bucky hadn’t been able to get the idea out of his head. It turned out that while Alpine had more attitude than Steve, she was affectionate when he needed it. Other than that, she preferred to keep her distance the majority of the time. She was welcome company while Bucky worked each day.

Laughter and jeering from his front yard drew Bucky’s attention from where he’d been reviewing surveillance data on the bugged laptop. He sighed and got up from the kitchen table, pushing his chair back and ignoring the screech it made as the legs scraped across the old linoleum. Alpine darted out from underneath the table at the sound, sprinting down the hall to the safety of the bedroom, just as she did every day at this hour.

As he trudged through the living room, Bucky didn’t have to wonder what was waiting for him when he opened the front door. Every time it was the same: a pickup speeding off with men teetering in the bed and some form of roadkill bleeding out on the sidewalk in front of his house. His stretch of sidewalk was the only one that kids never played on, and for good reason. The brown stains left by months worth of dead animals never seemed to go away, no matter how much Bucky scrubbed.

Jaw clenched, Bucky grabbed the bucket of tools from just inside the door and headed down to the front of his yard. The deer was young, practically still a fawn, and his chest tightened at the sight. Its chest rose and fell unsteadily and the panicked look in his eyes was all too familiar.

Slowly, Bucky knelt down beside the frightened animal, his back to the street. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he soothed. 

The animal had been hit by a car—he’d seen these wounds plenty of times—and there was little chance it would survive. Most likely, it would bleed out excruciatingly slow on the sidewalk as the sun sank below the horizon.

“Let’s get you into the backyard, huh? It’s okay.” He kept his voice soft and even as he spoke to it, explaining what he was doing. He knew it couldn’t understand him, but after months of practice, he knew that talking to them kept them calm and kept him from getting a hoof or claw to the face.

Bucky unfolded the tarp from the five-gallon bucket and carefully manipulated the poor animal onto the plastic. Dragging it across the yard to the back of the house was easy, and when it was situated with the forest in view, Bucky left it to get his bucket of tools.

He hated every minute of this ordeal. Sometimes the animals were already dead. Those were the good days. He could simply haul the animal into the woods and leave it for the scavengers. This kind of animal, the ones that were left to suffer in plain view of his living room, were the cases he hated. His nightmares were plagued with them now, their whimpers interspersed with those of his victims long ago.

The most humane thing Bucky could do in situations like these was to put the animal down himself. The first time the creature had still been alive when the men had dumped it, Bucky had attempted to take the animal to the emergency vet less than a mile away. He’d been turned away at the door. The police were no help either, as the sheriff was almost always seated in the back of the pickup. He’d tipped his hat at Bucky one day while they sped away. Bucky had punched a hole in the living room wall.

“You’ll feel better soon,” Bucky said, eyeing the deer as he loaded what he would need into his waistband.

He dragged the tarp into the woods, into the clearing near the meadow. The young deer lifted its head, its longing for the rolling waves of grass and wildflowers clear as it groaned and settled back on the forest floor. Blood slicked over the blue plastic tarp beneath it and Bucky looked away, readying his weapon.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. He looked away as he pulled the trigger. The familiar sound of the silenced gunshot didn’t phase him, and Bucky quickly cleaned up the remains, leaving them for the scavengers once he’d removed the bullet.

After hosing down his equipment and leaving it in the garage to dry, Bucky grabbed a bucket of soapy water and the stiff-bristled brush he used to scrub the sidewalk. He stepped out of the garage, but froze almost immediately.

Another animal had been left in the deer’s place, this time significantly smaller in stature. Bucky glanced back at his drying tools, then set his cleaning bucket down on the driveway. Water sloshed over the side onto the asphalt but he ignored it. In just a few long strides, Bucky knelt down at the animal’s side.

The cat’s fur was matted with blood and it whined pitifully as soon as he was within earshot, but when Bucky reached out to touch it, it hissed and tried to scramble away.

“Hey, I ain’t gonna hurt you. It’s okay.”

A flash of white made Bucky pause. He blinked and Alpine was between him and the other cat, her tail aloft as she stuck her curious nose in the injured feline’s face.

“Alpine, leave them alone!” Bucky scolded. “How did you even get out here?”

Alpine simply ignored him and moved to investigate the other animal further. He looked around, spotting the front door open. He must’ve forgotten to close it and Bucky inwardly kicked himself for making such a stupid mistake. It was usually more about what—or who—could get in his house than what could get out.

Sighing, Bucky reached out to pick up his cat. She obliged his touch, affectionately rubbing her head against his hand when he was close enough. The cat laying on the sidewalk watched Alpine intently as Bucky scratched behind her ears, then scooped her up and carried her back up the driveway and into the house. He shut the front door behind her, then went back to the injured animal’s side.

“You gonna let me help you now?” Bucky asked, keeping his voice soft. “Huh?” He reached out a hand and though the cat tensed, he was able to smooth back the matted fur to find the injury.

The cat had a long cut stretching down its right hind leg, from the hip all the way down to the paw. The blood had already begun to clot, which was a good sign, but it was still a cause for concern. If he jostled the animal too much, they could begin to bleed again. 

“You really got into some trouble there, didn’t you?” As if to reply, the cat meowed and laid its head down on the stained concrete. It still watched him, but it had relaxed and Bucky felt a bit more confident in his ability to move it into the house where he could stitch up its leg. 

“Alright, I’m gonna pick you up. I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he said. He continued to softly narrate his actions as he lifted the cat and held it against his chest, then went into the house through the garage. He jabbed his metal thumb into the button beside the door so that the garage would shut behind him, just in case Alpine decided she wanted to do any more adventuring today.

Alpine, true to form, was waiting for him when he stepped inside the house. She immediately started weaving around his feet, and Bucky would’ve tripped over her if he wasn’t as agile.

“Careful, sweetheart. We gotta be nice to our guest,” he chided when she jumped up on the table. Bucky set the cat down on top of the newspaper he’d left spread out during his research earlier that day. He could get a new copy later if he needed to. Right now his priority was to clean and stitch up the cat’s wound. 

After an hour of work, the injured cat had a freshly shaved leg with a freshly cleaned and stitched wound. She had, surprisingly, stayed still and quiet for the majority of the time, only watching Bucky with wide, frightened eyes. He’d discovered that the cat was a girl partway through, which had been more of a relief than anything. Alpine had taken quite a liking to the new animal. Maybe once the animal healed, his little friend could have a friend of her own, given that nobody came looking for her. Friends he could handle, but kittens were a whole other story.

Bucky shook his head as he went back to cleaning up the table. It was a methodical task, one he could appreciate, but he kept glancing back over his shoulder to check on the cat, who’d fallen asleep shortly after he’d finished. He’d set her up near the litter box, and he’d moved the food and water a bit closer so that she wouldn’t be walking as far on the injured leg. Alpine had curled up for a nap of her own on the floor nearby.

When you woke, it took you a second to remember where you were and what had happened. It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in a strange house in your feline form, but the injured leg and the fluffy white cat snoozing nearby were a first. Rarely did you ever get hurt. Usually the wound healed well enough on its own, but the trauma from being grabbed by the strange man with the grubby hands and then being tossed off the back of the pickup had exacerbated the cut and your healing had come to a halt.

You’d been wary of the dark-haired man who’d found you. He’d had an aura of shame and fear about him, and you’d immediately recoiled. Then, the little white cat had appeared out of nowhere. She was his cat, she’d said in so many words, and the man was good. He fed her, played with her, and the house was warm and safe. You’d relented and taken a good look at him. Warmth had settled into your bones despite your injury and your gut had told you that the white cat was telling the truth. The man with the metal arm was good.

He had carried you inside, cradling you against his chest with the gentlest of touches. He seemed to know what he was doing as he fixed up your leg. At some point after he’d tended to the gash, you’d passed out from the pain and exhaustion.

Now, you were in a soft bed on the floor of his laundry room. You slowly uncurled and managed to prop yourself up without putting too much weight on your injured leg. You had to be careful—if it didn’t heal right, you could get stuck in this form forever, or your human form could suffer the effects of the injury as well.

Alpine lifted her head and blinked sleepily when she sensed your movement.

You’re awake.

“How long has it been since I passed out?” you asked.

She looked towards the back door, where the night sky was visible through several small panes of glass. Only a few hours.

A shout from upstairs made you jump, and Alpine was off like a shot. She raced out of the laundry room through the kitchen, and you heard her scramble down the hall. Another shout piqued your curiosity and you limped after her. Whimpers and a heavy sob were enough of a trail for you to follow.

The man was sitting on the edge of the bed, Alpine clutched against him and his face buried in her fur. He cried as you cautiously hobbled into the bedroom, sticking to the shadows along the walls. Your fur wasn’t dark enough to hide you completely, but it would keep you hidden long enough for you to judge the situation.

Alpine purred soothingly and you listened to the man cry as you looked around the room. The top of the dresser and the nightstand were empty except for a small digital clock and the man’s charging phone. Every space in the house, from what you’d seen, was strangely barren. There was nothing personal to tell you about your rescuer, and while that should have made you uneasy, it only made the sad pit in your stomach grow deeper.

You let out a quiet whimper when a twinge ran down your leg and the man stiffened. He lifted his head from Alpine’s fur and peered around the room.

“Маленький?” he murmured. “Is that you?”

Hesitantly, you crept away from the wall and into the dim light coming from the moon outside. You knew your eyes would glint in the light and he’d be able to find you easier that way. 

Just as you’d suspected, the man’s attention snapped to you as soon as you were in the light. He set Alpine down on the bed and carefully knelt on the hardwood floor, his hand trembling as he reached out to you.

“You shouldn’t be up and moving around so soon,” he chided, and you meowed in irritation.

He hovers, Alpine said from her perch on the bed. You glanced up at her. When he’s worried, he hovers. When he’s scared, he hovers.

You let the man brush his fingers against your fur. He exhaled shakily and you stepped closer until he could run his hand over your back. The feeling was sublime and you arched under his touch. It had been so long since someone had touched you with such gentleness and care, and you knew then that you were a goner. You’d stay with this man for as long as you could.

“Thank you for saving me,” you told him, though you knew he couldn’t understand you in this form. 

The man smiled a little. It didn’t reach his eyes, but he seemed to appreciate the tidbit of interaction you’d given him. In response, you bumped your head against his knee, rubbing against the soft fabric of his pajamas.

“I wonder if you’ve got a name or an owner out there,” he mused. He continued to pet you as you rubbed against his legs. Eventually, you stood still and peered up at Alpine, who had settled with her tail just over the edge of the mattress. She twitched it, knowing you could see, and you narrowed your eyes at her challenge. Alpine was a young cat, and though she was sweet and naive enough to believe that you were just like her, you sensed an air of playfulness and spice about her.

Noticing your change in focus, the man scooped you up and lifted you onto the bed. You wobbled a little on the mattress before batting at Alpine. She flipped over to play and you indulged her, playing as much as you could without putting the health of your leg in jeopardy.

“What’s the man’s name?” you asked, dodging her paw.

Alpine chirped back at you. Bucky, she said. That’s what the men on the phone always call him.

“The men on the phone?” 

They call almost every day. He likes some of them. The others make him sad and angry.

You filed that information away for later use, and you were reaching out to block Alpine’s paw again when Bucky picked her up. He shifted her up near his pillow, then reached for you. On instinct, you backed away, your ears flattening when the metal of his arm glinted in the moonlight filtering in through the window.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Bucky soothed. “I won’t hurt you, remember?”

Another twinge of pain shot up your leg to your hip. You let out a sharp yelp when it twitched and hit the bedpost. Instantly, Bucky’s forehead creased in concern and he eased his flesh hand between your back and the wooden post.

“Easy now. I don’t want you falling off or hurting yourself more. You wanna get down off the bed? Is that what you want?”

You let out a slow breath and stared at him, forcing yourself to relax. You looked down at the floor and then at him in hopes that he would take that as a ‘yes’. When Bucky reached out and moved to pick you up again, you let him. He lowered you down onto the floor without another word. You scooted underneath the bed, closing your eyes when the feeling of being sheltered and safe settled into your bones. 

“She’ll be okay, Alpine.”

Bucky’s voice was barely audible in the silence under the bed and you peeked open an eye, listening.

“She’s gotta be.”

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Forever: @aya-fay​​

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium​​ @valhalla-kristin​​ @buckymcbuckbarnes​​

Series: @almosttoopizza​​

[werezmastarbucks]

tell her dad i'm sorry

masterlist

word count: 2169

author's note: this work scratches my brain just the right way. i had to do it.

The neighborhood where people disappeared. Where cars crashed and people screamed in basements. On the outside it looked very banal, painful, even. The houses all adhered to a city standard of decorative building rulebook. The Parker house was white, the house next to them, where a lawyer lived with her husband, was light blue. White, blue and cream beige were the allowed colors. Sam took his bike to school every day. School wasn’t far away, it took him fourteen minutes to get there if the light was green at the turn of the street and then on the crossroad. School was fine, it could not cope with him, but it was fine. People had red lockers, and Sam didn’t like that. Otherwise it was alright. Some kids tried bullying him when he went to the middle school, and he slashed their arms with his paper knife. Sam could not fathom how attacking him was okay, but him reciprocating the invitation to a fight ended up in screaming. Dad told him after this that he was disappointed. Sometimes Sam wished their parents just magically disappeared, and now they had, and he finally saw the error in his desire. He could not stand uncertainty. He needed to know where they are and the timing of their return. Without this data, his peace was constantly shifted and wobbly, like Kai’s skateboard when he rolled down the hill at the golden hour. Tyler told them that when the board starts wobbling, you just gotta ride through it. You have to push through the fear of falling and keep your balance. He was trying to do the same. The world wobbled like water matrass and Sam was trying to push through long enough to get his clarity.

He submitted his thorough report on the vampire op in Philippines. In was a fascinating read and a very fun project to work on. The day at school went well, like the most days. Sam wore his noise cancelling headphones to shun at least 65% of the noise surrounding him. Teenagers are very loud, but, surprisingly, his home is louder.

As he biked back, the sky looked a little dim and unhappy, and he feared in might rain. Would be a shame if the bad weather snapped the record of brilliant days so far.

He had to stay after classes because he wanted to study some other US military operations at the library. They had a PC he could work on, and the library was the quietest place. It was more comfortable to work there than at home. But the evening came, and he had to get going. So, he was biking, and the sky was gloomy, and he couldn’t see the brilliant deep blue of a May evening, but instead, the street lights went on earlier. It almost fell like August for some reason. The air was comfortably warm, and the asphalt was flat and smooth under his wheels. That was the only sound he enjoyed: the shhhh of the road when he rode anywhere. The words: road and rode, together.

He saw their house from the end of the street and let the bike roll by itself. The road here was just slightly tilted, so it must be so satisfying for Tyler to roll down on his board. The evening was comfortable. While he rode, the skies cleared a little, and faint light from above was making the street look like school theatre scenery. The trees were surely made of papier-mâché, and if he fell on the ground, he would taste the wood and not the bitter gravel.

He left the bicycle on the porch at the dedicated spot, as usual, and entered the house. The light was on in the living room, and Tyler sat on the couch, with Ruby Summers on the floor, sitting at his feet, happy. Her eyes were always like that when she looked at his brother: a little moist, and she squinted them. Sam guessed it was called eye smile. There was a hair tie on her wrist instead of a bracelet. Tyler had one like this, too, but a tattoo. Sam scratched his own old scar and greeted them.

“How was your project?” Tyler asked. Ruby did look like Anne-J. Tyler was lying, either to them, or to himself.

“Got a good mark, but I feel like they didn’t listen to me properly. Maybe I can read it again later, when we have student-teacher switch day”.

“What was your report about?” Ruby asked. Sam went into the bathroom first, and washed his hands, and then returned. He noticed that he forgot his backpack on the stool at the table, but he had already washed his hands. So, he tried to lift it up with his pinky finger. Ruby seemingly let go of her question.

They were playing cards. Tyler was sitting on his leg, and Ruby stretched her neck to see what he laid down in front of her.

“Where’s Kai?” he asked.

“He is in the back, fixing the shed. The door fell off”, Tyler said.

He went upstairs, thinking whether he should do his homework, which was very easy and boring, or play on his computer. It’s been a week after the accident. All was quiet. Not even police visited. It felt like people had very short memory. No one came for them with bats and handcuffs, and, best of all, Tyler stopped having migraines at all. He was still very unhappy though.

Sam put his backpack away and pulled a wet paper towel from the box on his desk, to rub his hands again, after he touched the outside object. As he was sitting himself down at the desk, he suddenly remembered that Ruby had asked him a question.

His life was hard. Thousands of tiny pieces of information and chores constantly assaulted him from all directions. And he only ran around, trying to catch them all and organize, only for them to get shattered again.

As he was coming downstairs, proud at the prospect of telling her everything about the vampire op, he heard a yelp. Sam entered the living room only to see Ruby scrambling from the floor, and Tyler standing above her. No, not Tyler. The blurryface was there again. Whatever she said to him, it provoked it. Ruby started screaming as the blurryface, operating Tyler’s body, bowed towards her, clutching her shoulders.

“What should I do?” Sam asked. “This is honestly the last drop”.

All his anxiety sprung back to life. Seeing this screaming girl wiggling on the carpet. She was yelling so loudly that neighbors could hear, and then they would have trouble. He couldn’t even hear his own words, that’s how loud she was.

Finally, Ruby kicked Tyler in the sheen, and he stepped back, so unbothered, unalive, that he resembled a ghost. She immediately stood up and turned around, her eyes huge like two strawberries. Her fair hair disheveled. She saw Sam with a knife in his hand, and the expression of hope on her face changed back to horror. A door slammed somewhere in the back: Kai heard her. Ruby raced back towards the entrance and swung it open, and ran.

The blurryface stood there, like a machine that suddenly went blind without a guiding focus. His presence was unnerving. The blur that was in the place of the face was constantly moving, and the sudden flashes inside made Tyler’s arms shake. Samson ran out of the house, blind with fear, and jumped on his bike. She was running down the street, screaming for her mom. Sam rode out into the road and started killing the distance between them. She was running, her pink Converse shoes unlaced, her glimmering hair swinging from side to side. Sam tilted forwards as he reached her, and spun the pedals once again, making a sharp jump. The front wheel and the handlebar pushed Ruby in the back. There was a responsive yell not far away: her mother heard her. Sam got off his bike and took her by the arm.

“You can’t be released, now the cat’s out of the bag”.

He swung his hand and stabbed her.

Kai was about to leave the house but he saw the state Tyler was in and stopped. The screaming stopped, as well. He approached the thing slowly, curiosity bubbling inside of him.

“You again? Swallowed anybody?”

“summer.”

“Yeah, her. What do I gotta do to make you talk?”

The blurryface turned towards him and hummed. It was a hum of the time moving. Of the mountain growing.

“I can rewrite the reality. You’re too mortal”, the hollow voice said. At least it articulated. Kai stepped on the cards spread out on the carpet.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, buddy”.

The blurryface touched him.

“Still. Too mortal”.

Kai frowned. Anger was loud in his ears. He lifted his finger at the chthonic monster possessing his brother’s body.

“Stay here. I gotta clean up after you two again”.

The blurryface remained standing there like he was loading when the eldest raced out of the living room.

He saw Ruby’s mom, the bitch Summers, from afar. She was trying to beat the crap out of Sam, and screaming hysterically. This was getting out of hand. The neighbors were now outside, and the light went on in several windows. Kai sniffed through his nose, and all the streetlights exploded, and the street went dead dark, and the crushed glass rained down on her head, making her yell even louder. Kai jumped towards them and pulled the knife out of Sam’s hand. Without aiming, he struck, and managed to get her right under the chin. Warm blood dripped down his knuckles. He nearly stumbled upon Ruby’s body. What a shame, he was hoping to nail her before Tyler eventually fucks everything up. She was nothing like Anne-J, she was more joyful. She had something cathartic going on. Now she was dead.

Samson was spitting out blood, or something else, he had no idea.

“How did you make it so dark?” he asked.

“I am very pissed, Samson”, Kai warned him. “Take your bike and go home”.

“Do you need help with the bodies though?”

He looked around. It was dark. Only the faint light of night, and some uneven glow of the windows. They didn’t have time to see anything, and now all suddenly got the urge to go inside and turn on their TVs.

“Well, if you can do it quietly”.

“It’s not like I was screaming”.

“You were, you just didn’t notice”.

Sam grabbed his own head.

“Oh no! Am I going crazy?”

Kai let go of Mrs Summers’ legs for a second.

“You’re already crazy, you know that? None of us is sane”.

“I just have ASPD, this doesn’t mean I am not in my right mind”.

“Sammy, you have blackouts".

Sam bit his lip. The realization, like a bloodstain slowly becoming even on a white shirt, crept into his clever but electronic-like mind. He gazed at the knife, calculating. Blackouts. Just like now.

"Where are our parents, Kai?"

"In the freezer in the basement".

He groaned a little, and then stood straight, looking at the two Summers, also calculating, but in other matters. Calculating the mass of a dead girl and her mother. Calculating the weight of death. In spite of all physical logic, dead bodies always seemed heavier to him.

“Oh, that’s why there is so much soda now! But why would I kill mom and dad?”

Kai was already puffing a little. He looked at his youngest in disbelief.

“You gonna stand here and yap or what?”

“I need answers, Kai”.

They listened to the street for a little bit.

“They knew I was the one killing annoying people around. They wanted to rat me out. You had such a fit of rage that you blacked out after. Why do you two keep fainting?”

Finally Sam grabbed Ruby and lifted her body.

“Ah, she’s a little heavy”.

“Hold on, I’ll help”.

Tyler ran out into the street, feeling the sweat rolling down his face. The blurry went away again, after it whispered into his ear canal the things he could not articulate with his mouth. But things he understood and remembered. He stopped abruptly upon seeing his brothers fidget with the Summers.

“Which one of you did it?” he asked, out of breath. The black was sliding down his neck. He felt everything very clearly, as fresh as a newborn. Including anger.

“It was team work”.

“Technically, it was more of a chain of events…”

“Cluster. Come help, Tyler. Why is she so heavy? Christ, she weighs, like, a ton. Or I am just exhausted after the spell…”

These things were now moving in front of Tyler’s face like movie scenes. The quiet street pretending to ignore two grizzly murders in one minute. Kai speaking out loud about the fact the he does insidious, silent magic. Sam’s face covered in blood. Blurryface told him that this was just the beginning. That none of this was real. That either all of them, or only one, on fact, was real. He looked at his brothers, both of whom he nearly despised, but got used to. Their irks, their habits, their murders. Only one of them three was real. And he got to decide

which

one

he wanted to be.

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Passenger

My mother was extremely nervous when driving a car. On one memorable occasion, when I was around 3 (and Mum was 24) she drove us to see her friend in the suburbs of Hobart, while Dad was at work. In them bygone days of no seatbelts, when little kids sat in the front seat, I had a great view out the windscreen. As Mum drove onto a multi-lane ONE WAY road, going the wrong way. Into oncoming traffic. 

I clearly remember cars barrelling directly at us. Honking and swerving to both right and left. Poor Mum was distraught, as she just drove slowly down the road, until the next intersection. Where it was possible to turn out of the way of the hurtling traffic... 

My memory of childhood impressions of this event are completely at odds with my realisation, now as an adult, of the gravity of what happened. At the time, I thought it was all rather funny and exciting. Like being on a dodgem car ride at the fair. Or watching a madcap scene in a cartoon, or movie comedy. It would be years before I understood what death even was, and that Mum had narrowly swerved under the Grim Reaper’s scythe that day.

But at the time, with me giggling like a loon, Mum must have realised that I was not in tune with realities. I might cheerily pipe up with an account of the day's death-defying hell-ride to our next door neighbour. Or dish out the deadly details at dinnertime, when Dad came home. She made me promise not to tell anyone what had happened. 

I also remember sitting in the back seat of the family’s Toyota Corolla, while Dad gave Mum a driving lesson one weekend, in the vacant parking lot of the University of Tasmania. We were surrounded by open empty space on all sides as Mum kangaroo hopped forward at about 2 miles per hour. Sick with the fear that she’d kill us all.

Mum's tell when she was stressed was a "tut-tut" clicking of her tongue. Her anxiety was often contagious, and never more-so than when she was driving. Dad became agitated. Although a professional educator, he could be impatient when teaching his family. That fuelled Mum's agitation, which made Dad more irritable. That driving lesson was a feedback loop of irritation, tension, and anxiety.

Even as a child I was aware Mum was often anxious, but didn’t see my father that way. Only in adulthood did I realise that Dad was often nervous too, and that the nervousness of others compounded his own. Often, what appeared as anger, was actually Dad’s anxiety, cloaked in bluster. And a lot of swearing (which was a tell of Dad’s). 

One time, I was a passenger as Dad drove to drop off baby brother Alex at child-minding. Which required crossing the busiest road in town. As we pulled up to the intersection, Dad hunched, with his tongue between his teeth (another tell) when baby Alex chimed in from the back seat - “Oh, f∇<k!” I had to laugh, and Dad did too. Explaining that Alex had learned to associate that word with this particular intersection. Hearing the phrase at this exact same spot every single day. 

Long after she’d died, Dad & I were swapping memories of Mum. We both had a chuckle about the time Mum & Dad squabbled while driving through the Scottish highlands, and our car landed in a ditch by the side of the one-lane country road. We were very lucky that a car coming the other way was able to pull us out of trouble. Mum & Dad were both immediately sheepish in the aftermath.

I asked Dad if Mum had ever told him of her one-way misdirection when I was small. Dad was genuinely surprised. Despite being a chatterbox all my life, and especially when I was a wee boy, I kept that long ago promise to Mum. I didn’t tell anyone, until after she’d left us.

Passenger & Driver. Chillin'.

You might wonder if I’m a nervous driver too. The fact is that I’ve never driven. I’d just begun learning (getting my own cranky driving lessons from Dad) when Mum got sick. The focus for our family was elsewhere for the next year. Next, I was working in Sydney. Too broke to buy a car, I rode a bicycle instead. I was soon living abroad, in tangled Megapolises like Tokyo. Challenging places for a driver’s test, even if I could speak the language. When finally living in an English-speaking city, I’d been in the habit of not driving for so many years that it stuck. 

Besides, I’m descended from two worrywart nervous drivers. The world is a safer place without me behind the wheel. I’m frankly amazed that almost everyone else drives. 

Me, I’m a lifelong passenger. 

[puuvillaa]

I'm going to move my twitter thread of my mwpp sims game here because it's hilarious and I want to be able to find it more easily.

Contains wolfstar, James/Peter, Teddy/Harry

I find it hilarious that Sirius thinks James is 10/10 and Remus 1/10, but he started dating Remus anyway because James is too busy to chat

James and Peter got together because they both find each other super hot and I didn’t want to bring more sims into the house. Sirius and Remus are engaged and still find each other terribly unattractive

Remus also developed a smoking problem and will be grumpy for the next 15 days because I made him quit since he ran out of cigarettes and I got tired of him having to smoke one every two hours so the stress of not having smoked doesn't keep turning him into his wolf form

Here's Remus quitting smoking:

Remus turned Sirius into a werewolf and they finally got married. I didn’t think about their surnames at all, but managed to make Sirius a Lupin. Sirius got abducted by aliens in the middle of fucking Remus. James and Peter got engaged. I'm debating having a baby in the household

For some reason Peter has been running everywhere he goes for days now, and I don’t understand why. Also sadly Sirius got stuck in the tattoo chair so I had to quit without saving and he lost his crappy tattoos

Remus wanted a baby so I went okay. He couldn’t turn into a werewolf during the full moon due to being pregnant, so he pissed himself during Peter's birthday party instead. He then rode his fucking bicycle to give birth in the hospital, but at least they now have a baby boy

Sirius cried during James and Peter's wedding. James was pregnant and gave birth to a baby boy. Peter went through a midlife crisis and now has a silly moustache as well as a new expensive car, but I drew the line at divorcing James when they only just married

Sirius and Remus had a fight bc Peter flirted with Sirius who flirted back. Sirius tried asking Remus out but was turned down, so he yelled at Remus, who yelled back and then went to sulk for several hours. Sirius worked hard to appease him. Harry was hungry. James was working

Here's are a couple of cute pictures of Remus and Teddy:

Teddy is now a teenager, but because he didn’t do well enough in school (which I find unfair because they had so many snow days he could only attend once, it's not my fault) the trait he was assigned was kleptomaniac

Here's Sirius and Teddy:

James was supposed to read Harry a bedtime story, but he then needed to pee and left, so Harry got stuck in his bed. I waited for a full day to see if anything would get him to move but nothing did, so I had to quit without saving and can't remember what happened after I'd saved

Here's Remus reading Harry a bedtime story instead:

I'm considering ditching this game soon anyway, it's no longer fun enough with so many sims in the same household, especially because James and Peter are already turning elderly, and I had forgotten how much I hate playing the elderly sims. I'll have to adjust the age settings

The game suddenly decided to reset all my settings yesterday. Fun. I had forgotten that celebrities are a thing so I didn’t disable them, so Remus turned into a celebrity, which is very annoying. But yeah, he's now a 1-star celebrity author. I will take that away from him, though

Luckily I had forgotten to save after James turned old, so after tweaking the age settings, I can keep going with this game for a while yet. Couldn't figure out how to remove Remus’s celebrity status for some reason, so we'll see how that goes

God damn it, the game decided to age James anyway because it was the day of his birthday already. Not sure if I'll de-age him or just wait for him to get to the end of his life

Nooooo fuck you, why is the celebrity status still contagious after I turned it off! Does it not affect the game I'm already playing? Ugh I hate this!

Sirius has started to think that Remus is a 10/10 hottie. I suspect that this sudden change of heart has something to do with Remus’s 2-star celebrity rating. Meanwhile, Teddy went to the prom with his only friend and they're now boyfriends

Remus and Sirius had their anniversary and went on an elaborate date. That night, James passed away. Peter immediately wished to resurrect him but also to have a stag do. I suppose we all grieve in our own ways. Harry has been learning hacking, and Teddy wants to nick something

I have no idea what happened, but some interaction with either Sirius or Teddy made Remus all sulky and he wanted to hide in his room to contemplate the meaninglessness of life. This wasn't funny, I just thought it was cute. Then Sirius wanted to grow a beard, so he now has one

Oh, speaking of Sirius and his wishes, during his midlife crisis, he wished for a new $10k+ car twice, so he got a new car and then got another new car. He really is rich (I mean, the whole family's rich, they have a 3-car garage (James used to get around in his cop car))

Oh, I made Remus tell Sirius a secret and his secret was "I'm glad we'll be together forever." 🥺

In less cute news, Teddy was in a bad mood so he skipped school to have a date, but his bf wasn't into any romantic stuff so Teddy broke up with him. On top of that, he came home too early, so Sirius got angry with him for skipping school

Lol rereading this like what the hell. "Wasn't into any romantic stuff" = he was reacting to it negatively for some reason. Anyway, Teddy and Harry are now dating, we'll see if that lasts once Teddy grows up

You know what, I'll tell you the story of wolfstar's first kiss and how they ended up being a couple. Sirius was (and still is) an alchemist, and after messing up a potion, he turned into a frog. He was friends with James only, but James was busy right then, while Remus was free

So, Sirius went to talk to Remus until they were friends, and then Remus kissed him to turn him human again. And that was their first kiss, and that’s how they fell in love, even though they both found each other unattractive

So, Peter set off some fireworks. Cool, except he did it in their hallway and set it on fire, then went to faint on the porch. Later the same day, he set off more fireworks (this time outside) and set their lawn on fire. He's banned from handling fireworks

Teddy grew up, and the game decided that you know what, his breakup with his first boyfriend wasn't a proper breakup, so he now has two boyfriends. In other Teddy related news, Remus wishes that he'll become a doctor

Teddy went on a date with his first bf and confessed to cheating on him, so they had a fight and broke up for real. Which might be good because turns out the bf is malicious, which conflicts with Teddy being nice

Sirius tells a secret to Remus: "I find the hiccups fun!"

Remus and Sirius went on a date. They visited a haunted house, and Remus was so terrified that he pissed himself. Because he's a celebrity, the whole fucking town now knows about it and he's ashamed 😔

(now I kind of feel like playing this game again)

(there are only so many pictures because I was actually never going to post them anywhere, I just kept ones that I found funny)

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Bad weather hit Central Arkansas this afternoon and the tornado sirens went off right before Gus's school let out. Mom called me because she was torn on whether to take cover in the basement with Mags and Suki or try and go get Gus before any weather hit our neighborhood. She was worried that if she didn't go get Gus, the school would let him out anyway and then he'd be walking home alone -- something he hasn't done before -- and then the tornado would hit. But she also didn't want to take Mags out into the weather. I was watching news coverage at work and it seemed like it was west of us, so I told her to go get Gus. But then Sasha, who was in line for pick-up at PHE commented in my work chat that the kids had been locked inside for safety. I called Mom and she and Magnus turned around went to the basement.

I've always told her that the absolute safest place in the basement is underneath the stairs, in the small little storage cupboard. A few minutes later, Mom called me back and said they had made it to that small space, but that the door had latched behind them and locked them in. She told me not to come let them out, but to be ready to come do so as soon as the tornado had passed. The news reported that the tornado was in Riverdale, just down the hill from us, but they were showing footage of it crossing the river to the north, so I felt certain I could drive from downtown to our house safely. I didn't like thinking about Mom and Magnus being stuck in that small space in the dark. And what if the tornado did hit our neighborhood and they really got stuck in there, but I couldn't get to them because of debris and road closures or whatever? Or what if Gus got stuck at school and I couldn't get to Hillcrest?

I grabbed my keys and ran to the parking deck. A man taking cover in the stairwell opened the door for me and said, "Come on in!" When I told him I had to drive to Hillcrest, he told me not to, and then wished me luck. I raced through downtown along 2nd Street, and then 3rd, just like I do every day, but faster and more alert to everything around me. By the time I reached our house, the weather had settled somewhat, but my adrenaline had peaked. The air reminded me too much of the day Nene and I rode out the tornado in the hallway in Beebe in 1999. (In that linked video, you can see an 11th grade version of me at the 7:04 mark, sitting behind the dude in the black shirt.)

As soon as I opened the basement door in the kitchen, I could hear Mom reassuring Magnus underneath my feet. I heard her say, "There's Daddy," and even though I knew they were safe before that moment, hearing Liz's voice broke me. I had tears in my eyes when I unlatched the door and saw them standing there. But I also couldn't help laughing because I hadn't expected to find Mom wearing Magnus in the carrier, I hadn't expected them both to be wearing bicycle helmets, and there was also something funny about seeing Suki standing there with them. Mom laughed through tears, too. The three of us stood there and held each other for a few minutes.

"I told you not to come," Mom said.

----

We went upstairs to keep an eye on the news. The tornado had continued on its path northeast and we kept an eye on Beebe. Sasha called and said she was with Gus and could drop him off at our house.

After she did, I could finally feel myself start to relax. It felt good to have us all in the same place. It always does.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 3.31.2023 - 3.00pm.

[jamsandpeanuts]

children learning how to ride a bike always had those little training wheels with their little bicycles.

and when everyone was learning how to ride bikes, i was choosing books to keep me company. even as i child, i stayed at home and read. i started with every encyclopedia collection we had—i was always fascinated with the world, how things work, how other people live. i have this unwavering thirst for knowledge, and i would devour every piece of information i could find to quench it.

in the afternoon, i would sit by the patio and watch everyone else: children playing, people walking by, a few cars driving by. i was always grateful that the neighborhood i grew up in was quiet and serene. trees lined the roads, the air was always a little cold even in the summers and there were cats loitering and dogs on leash being walked by their owners. observing everything from the comfort of my home had become a hobby of little me.

sometimes, i would see the kids riding their big bikes. i would talk to them, ask them about their bikes because i was curious and they seemed happy and free, pedaling around. a big part of me was jealous. i was very jealous because i didn’t know how to ride a bike.

and because i was jealous i decided that i would learn how to ride a bike and being independent and cocky even as a kid, i decided i would start learning to ride a bike with those big, mountain bikes the kids were riding–those bikes that are far too big for me, a small and lanky child. i must have been around 7 or 8. i was determined. nothing else mattered but the big bikes.

so, in the afternoons, when i am allowed to go out of the house (and encouraged), i would borrow the neighbor’s kids’ big bikes and ride them. they laughed at me during the first times. they told me i should start with something smaller, something more manageable. i was mad and frustrated because they were implying that i ride the bike my father had bought—the one with the training wheels! i refused; i was persistent that i would start learning with this big bike because if they could ride it now, so could i.

it was hard. i had to learn how to climb it , how to balance my weight while on it, how to control it. my learning didn’t go as planned. i thought it was going to be easy. it looked easy as the other kids rode it, it should be easy! i thought it was something i could be an expert at in a week.

i couldn’t count all the times i fell; all the cuts and blisters and bruises i earned from being too stubborn. there was a time i surrendered to the tears welling up in my eyes. i fell and i was sat by the side of the road looking at all the cuts on my knees, on my arms, on my legs and then i watched the bike lying horizontally beside me as its wheels turned to a halt. i remembered because i was wearing thw white dress with pink flowers that i loved which was turned dirty and muddied. i was angry. at the bike and at myself.

i didn’t give up. one day, i rode as smoothly as all the other kids. and i was ecstatic that i finally did. i was proud and i felt invincible. a small kid with a big bike.

i later understood that this is how i was—curious, and impatient, and reckless, and determined, and self-assured. and i grew up just the same. the small kid with the big bike.

[drhoneyandelley]

Is my honey hubby as fast as Porsche?

I love my honey hubby very much. He is as sweet as chocolate chunk cookies ( you know what I mean reading the link here ; https://honeyandelley.wixsite.com/i-love-eat-wear-3/post/is-my-honey-as-healthy-as-guilt-free-chocolate-chip-chunk-cookies ) but also strict with himself with an athlete-mind. He often tells me, "Beyond your capacity lies new potential. Don’t set limits on yourself.”

While our car was being repaired recently, my husband commuted to the hospital where he works by cycling and taking the train. As he commutes by car, the opportunities to ride a bicycle have significantly decreased, so the first few days seemed quite hard for him. Returning home on the first day, he expressed his frustration, saying like "I couldn’t cycle in a way that satisfied myself." I was like "Okay... you are not an Olympic athlete after all." Then he replied "I should be able to do better.” Again I was like "wow, that line sounds very an athlete-like!" I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard that. At the same time, I thought it somewhat mysterious that he returned home out of breath despite riding an electric bicycle, but I didn’t delve into it at the time. However, he came back looking exhausted the next day, and the day after that as well. Let me explain that an electric bicycle is a bike equipped with an electric motor, making it very easy to pedal since it’s partially powered.

Then one day, I decided to attend a public lecture where he was presenting, blending in with the audience. That morning, I rode his electric bike, and he took my bicycle. And that’s when I discovered the truth. He pedaled with the ferocity of a Porsche’s start, maintaining a fierce speed throughout. No wonder he came home breathless every evening. As I realized this, I couldn’t suppress my laughter at his incredible speed. After all, the sight of him, impeccably dressed in a Dunhill suit, pedaling like an athlete, was a complete mismatch.

And how was his presentation, you ask? It was a big success, absolutely wonderful. To see my husband achieve such greatness, it made me feel proud of him all over again. And then, my husband and I happily cycled home together, saying like "no more Porsche, honey hubby! It's too dangerous."

I could keep writing forevermore about my unique honey hubby but it's time to make a birthday cake from scratch for his big day. It is totally gluten-free healthy confectionary with rice flour, rice oil, beet sugar, soy bean yogurt and egg and adding a little pretty herbs like lemon balm and fruit. Bon Appetite!

I love, therefore I am.

[breezeriderebike]

Commuting on an electric bike.

For years, I've commuted to work on my e-bike. With my trusty BRE E300B, I conquered many of Seattle's hills and confidently rode electric bike through the cityscape. From driving every day and parking a few blocks away to commuting on my e-bike for the first time. I took a crash course in, well, not crashing ...... And other things. To help you better understand electric bike. I want to share what I learned and maybe you can ride your ebike to work too.

It's as fast as driving.

Assuming you live 20 miles down the highway from work, then yes, a car would be faster. But for me it takes the same amount of time to commute to work on an e-bike (24 minutes to get to work on an electric bike, no time to park) as it does to drive (22 minutes and another 1-10 minutes to find a parking spot to park, depending on how lucky I am). On my e-bike, I can use the bike lane and avoid the traffic jams. When I arrive at work, I don't need to find parking. It's a win-win.

It is cheaper than driving.

Bicycle repairs are usually much cheaper than car repairs. In my first 90 days of commuting by ebike. I rode my e-bike 650 miles, had my brakes adjusted twice, and spent a total of $34. That's almost exactly what I spend on gas every week. Or but the car repairs and gas cost over $400 in three months (plus $60 for an oil change). My co-worker did a cost comparison of e-biking vs. driving and he has since saved thousands of dollars.

Lunchtime = happiness.

I have so much more freedom on my lunch break! I can slip in and out of various restaurants a few blocks away, or grab a bite to eat, and then come back to the office with plenty of time to eat. I'm not limited by distance or time, while still getting a breath of fresh air to fuel my day.

Multiple layers of clothing, for the win.

With the temperature change in the morning and evening, I learned to carry a few different pieces of gear with me so that what should have been a fun 5-mile ride didn't turn into a daunting escapade with no end in sight. I always carry a pair of warm gloves, a pair of light gloves, a hat and rain pants. This keeps every ride comfortable and attainable, so you don't have to end your ride because of the weather and change transportation to get where you need to go.

Beautiful day, beautiful neighborhood.

I was able to enjoy the scenery of Seattle streets during the ride, which was so much better than being in a car. I can turn easily and quickly on any street and stop anywhere, and likewise get lost at will, which makes every ride an adventure. Since starting my e-bike journey, I have discovered many new places, new restaurants, and good looking neighborhoods. Even though I grew up in Seattle and think I know the place, there are still many hidden treasures to be discovered, and I can enjoy the city better through ebike riding. Since I started commuting by ebike, I've found that I love riding. Typically, on a weekend ride, I ride 10-15 miles just to explore. If you want to try biking to work too, try out different routes on the weekend first and find the one that works best for your commute so you don't have to worry about being late. When you feel you have your route, gear and time under control, then start enjoying your ride, enjoy the views and think about how good it feels to be surrounded by nature.

[whywishesarehorses]

Pensioner sets off on 600-mile pony trek with pet dog in saddlebag

Jane Dotchin, 80, has been making the unusual journey from Northumberland to the Highlands since 1972. (Story from STV News)

An 80-year-old woman who wears an eyepatch is on an annual trek with her pony from England to the Highlands – on a seven-week adventure which began in 1972.

Jane Dotchin packs her saddlebags onto her trusty pony’s back every year, and heads to the hills from her home near Hexham, Northumberland, on an epic 600-mile trek to Inverness, covering between 15 and 20 miles a day.

She set off on August 31 with her steed, Diamond, aged 13, and her disabled Jack Russell named Dinky for company, from the off-grid smallholding where she lives.

She carries everything she needs including her tent, food and just a few belongings – and despite wearing an eyepatch is determined to continue as long as she can.

Ms Dotchin said: “My mother would look after my other ponies but she wasn’t that keen on looking after my Halfinger stallion, so I rode him down to Somerset to see a friend, which is about 300 miles.

“It was a bit of a hard slog, but it was good.”

After that initial journey, she caught the taste for the open road and travelled to visit friends near Fort Augustus, near Loch Ness, every autumn since.

The journey takes around seven weeks depending on weather and Ms Dotchin tries to stop off to see people she has met over the years.

She said: “I refuse to go slogging on through pouring wet rain.

“There are a few different routes I can take depending on the weather.

“I don’t want to go over hilltops in foul weather, but I work it out on the way.

“I don’t bother with maps, I just keep to the routes I know.

“It is nice to go and see [people] again – I ring them up in the morning to say I’m going to be there in the evening.

“I don’t warn them too far in advance, because if the weather suddenly changes or I decide to stop early then they can be left wondering where I’ve got to.”

Disabled Jack Russell Dinky, who has deformed front legs, travels in a saddle bag.

Ms Dotchin said: “She manages fine, when there is a nice grassy track she gets out and has a run, but she doesn’t like stoney ground but she is a nice hot water bottle for me in the tent.”

She said: “I asked for something good and solid in my old age and he got me a cob from Ireland. I struggle to get on her half the time, but otherwise I manage fine.”

Her diet consists of porridge oats, oatcakes and cheese which is bought at local shops.

She prefers to make porridge with milk, but water will suffice.

Ms Dotchin added: “You can always boil it from a stream.”

Her bathroom habits are equally DIY, and she said: “I dig a hole.”

Ms Dotchin is devastated by the littering she has seen over the years and said Cumbernauld, North Lanarkshire, is somewhere she finds “shameful” due to the amount of rubbish.

She said: “It’s appalling, in particular single used barbecues which are left lying all over the place.

“Cumbernauld is the fly-tipping capital of Britain.

“There are some lovely people there who let me camp, but some of it is so disgusting and shameful.”

Campervans on single track roads have also become a more persistent problem.

She said: “Drivers just didn’t seem to know how wide they were, I was forever just about getting swept off the roads by them.”

The right to roam has helped with countryside access, but she said: “There are still some locked gates or little side gates that you can’t get a horse with packs on through.”

For emergencies she carries an old mobile phone as the battery lasts six weeks.

Ms Dotchin said: “I keep it switched off and just ring out to ring up landowners to get gates unlocked or to warn people when I’m coming but sometimes the trouble is getting a signal.”

During the foot and mouth crisis in 2001 she went on bicycle instead.

She said: “I covered many more miles with the dog in a pannier but it was not the same, I missed my horse.”

In recognition of her independent spirit, and many years of long distance trekking, she received The British Horse Society lifetime achievement award last year, which she said was “a bit of a surprise.”

During her travels she witnesses rutting deer and stags fighting in the autumn, and foxes.

She said: “There is always something interesting happening and there is never a dull moment.

“I will probably be stopped one of these days.”

[shinsengumi-archives]

The last Tokugawa shogun unexpectedly enjoyed the rest of his life

Tokugawa Yoshinobu lived until the 2nd year of the Taisho era (1913). He had a long life after the Meiji Restoration, a surprising "epilogue".

He was the last Shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate.

The shogunate collapsed just one year into his reign. He was inevitably at risk of death, but managed to avoid severe punishment through negotiations by Katsu Kaishu and others. Well, then, how did Yoshinobu live in the Meiji/Taisho era?

The last shogun lived in his hobbies. He had many different hobbies, for example, photography.

He often went outdoors to shoot with his camera. The photographs actually taken by Tokugawa Yoshinobu still remain today. For example, this ↓

This is a photo taken by Tokugawa Yoshinobu of a train crossing the Abekawa iron bridge.

He was quite enthusiastic and often posted to the popular photo magazine "Hanakage" (華影) at that time, but it was said that his photos did not get selected.

And oil painting:

He’s pretty good, isn’t he?

And, a slightly unusual hobby: Yoshinobu liked to observe everything under a microscope.

One day, he tried to magnify his favorite soybean flour (kinako).

Then, probably because the storage condition was bad, the magnified soybean flour was full of insects 😲

Since then, Yoshinobu has been unable to eat his favorite soybean flour.

What are you doing, last shogun?! 😅

It seems that he also loved the outdoors.

He used to practice Kyudo (archery) every day.

Hunting with a gun:

He looks like a British gentleman.

And cycling. He was riding a bicycle when it was still rare at that time.

The last shogun rode a Penny-farthing bicycle. It's the same hat he wore when hunting. Is that his favorite? He liked Western fashion quite a lot.

He used to ride around the city all the time for exercise. (From "Shizuoka Daiji Shimbun" dated February 5, 1890)

There is even a story that he was once distracted by a beautiful woman while cycling and crashed into a signboard.

And shuriken:

It seems that he was a master at it. I think he was using the stick shuriken on the right.

In addition, he liked fishing, handicrafts, go, shogi, noh theatre, falconry, dakyu (Japanese polo), and cooking rice with a mess tin.

Also, he liked women and lived with two concubines in addition to his wife (!)

Ichijo Mikako (wife)

Nakane Sachi (concubine)

Shinmura Nobu (concubine)

It seems that his relationships with women were just as free-spirited. (Before the Meiji Restoration, he had even more concubines)

He was blessed with children, having 10 boys and 11 girls.

The last shogun lived freely. Some people didn't like the way he lived.

Itakura Katsushige participated in the Battle of Hakodate as a vassal of the shogunate and resisted the new government forces to the end.

As he entered the Meiji era, he said something like this:

“I regret having acted with Yoshinobu.”

However, on the other hand, there was such an episode. Shibusawa Eiichi, who is said to be the father of Japanese capitalism, was a vassal of Yoshinobu.

When he returned from studying in Europe for two years, he was ordered by the Shizuoka domain, where Yoshinobu had retired, to serve as an "official".

Shibusawa had a desire to freely utilize the knowledge gained in Europe as a "civilian" and refused this order.

An unsettling reply from a subordinate. However, it seems that Yoshinobu sent him out with such words:

"From now on, go your own way."

Perhaps he said it to ease the feelings of his vassal.

Finally, the story of the descendants of Tokugawa Yoshinobu. Tokugawa Yoshitomo, the great-grandson of Yoshinobu.

Through his mother, he is also the great-grandson of Matsudaira Katamori, the lord of the Aizu domain.

As a professional photographer, Tokugawa Yoshitomo is active in the world of photography, and he loves Yoshinobu.

As a life work, he takes pictures of the remains and historical buildings of the Tokugawa family, and introduces the pictures taken by Yoshinobu in a book.

[camslightstories]

Tolerate it - Part 4

Notes: Here is the part everyone waited for. I have been receiving so much love from you guys, and I don't know how to thank you. You guys are completely utterly amazing, and I cant wait to give you guys more of this story. I think i can write part 5 in a day, idk, but I will try my best for you guys. 

Thank you so much for your love, it means the world to me. I receive any type of feedback, comments or request, I posted a prompt list so you guys can have a little idea for your request but if it is your own then I have no problem writing it.

Thank you again for reading, I hope you like it.

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers.

24 hours before

The raindrops overwhelmed the streets of National City. The overwhelming sound of the rain falling was heard all around the city. The way the cold breeze moved the trees. The light of the posts illuminating the city during the cold and rainy night.

You were happily cleaning the decoration table, as you hummed to the melody that has been in your head the whole day. JJ, your boss came walking laughing when she saw your mood. “Why is my favorite pastry chef so happy may I ask” 

“First of all, I'm your only chef, and well like you know I finally cracked it. The lemon pie cake recipe, Lena loves so much. It was a success boss I made four cakes and they are all gone, third I got Lena's favorite flowers and favorite pastry, fourth I don't know, I think that is it” You stopped cleaning before showing her the flowers you had gotten earlier that day, and then the other box with the cake while smiling widely.

The blonde looked at you before sighing, you had worked with her for 5 years now, and she had seen you in the past with Barry and now Lena. She cared about you in her own way, you were her principal chef and somehow you became her friend. The blonde said as she closed the register walking to get her things.“Never change, Danvers.”.

You nodded and kept cleaning and organizing your workspace. Lena never leaves your mind, you knew you had to talk to your sisters and your girlfriend soon because it had been two weeks since the school decided to fire you since they found a better fitting music teacher.

The fact that you worked your ass off in the school, so the children could have the best of you, wasn't enough for them, and it hurt you. What other things have you done, are doing, or will do that are not going to be enough?

Like the time you worked on a project for 6 months straight, not taking care of yourself, working in three jobs, going out of line to make sure the movie sample was perfect. Trying to achieve your dreams, only for the executive director to call you one morning to tell you, they had found some else, someone better. 

It scared you to think about the fact that Lena may find someone else, you knew she deserved everything she wanted and needed it, she deserves someone who was smart, stable, powerful, someone strong who can give her anything, someone without trust or abandonment issues, someone perfect for her, and you had a long way to be that person for her. 

But every time she had seen your insecurities, she had come and reassured you every single thing, she had made your insecurities go away. She had made you feel worthy and perfect for her. But your insecurities had always been a part of you and somehow Lena worked in every step of the way with you.

Your boos whistle pulling out of your thoughts, before making you look up as she threw the store keys for you to close before she concluded “You are way too deep kid”

You murmured as you looked at the raindrops. “How could I not? she is my everything”

The rain covered you completely as you rode your bicycle, the coat on your basket covering the pastries boxes and the flowers. The way your cold shirt cling to you, and your socks getting wetter every time you passed through a puddle. Your soaked hair taking over parts of your face, as you felt the cold breeze hit your face, your breathing became stronger when you started to feel the freezing temperature.

Before entering the lobby of the large building, you tried to get rid of the extra water from your clothing, but it seems impossible. Grabbing the things you entered and smiled when you felt the warm temperature. You watched the clock and noticed the time it was 8:35 PM, meaning it took you over 10minutes to get there. 

Mr. Simmons, the doorkeeper of the penthouse chuckled at you, you were too stubborn to take a taxi or let Lena’s driver, Mr. Smith, to drive you even when it is dangerous outside, you had always preferred to ride your bike. 

After Jeremiah, your dad died, and you felt your world crashing down, you didn't want help. You kept quiet about your feelings, trying to comfort your loved ones, every time you felt you need space to open up alone, you rode your bicycle to the beach and sat for hours thinking, and crying. After a time your bike was the only way you went to places alone, it was the way you remember it was okay to be alone and to be hurting as long as the ones you love are okay and happy.

“Ms. Danvers, good evening,” The man said as he called the elevator for you.

You rolled your eyes at your name, before speaking “Good evening Simmons, we have talked about this call me Y/N, we have known each other for 3 years” 

The old man responded as he chuckled, maintaining the elevator open for you.“Yes miss-...Y/N, I hope you don't get sick”

You mention as you walked inside, giving him boxes with various types of cheesecakes smiling.“I hope so too, Simmons. Here this is for you ” 

“Thank you Y/N, have a great night,” The man said waving at you.

You yelled when the door began to close, the old man nodded and smiled at you. “You are welcome! good night and say hi to your family for me”

Each floor of the building was elegant, classy, and minimalist. The soft LED lights on the top and bottom corners of the corridors, the way the blue and gray color made pop up the white vintage doors. 

You took the key chain out of your pocket, putting the security code in, waiting for the green light meaning you could put the key card in. The keychain was simple, it had the keycard and a polaroid photo of you and Lena, the day you moved in. Lena was laughing at something and you were looking at her as if she had brought down the moon for you. 

You entered with difficulty at the apartment trying to not let anything fall as you spoke before you stopped completely when you saw your girlfriend in one of the bar stools drinking wine.“Baby, I'm home! Sorry it took me a while but it was raining and I tried my best on the bicycle, nut that is not important, what is important in that I have something for you, you are not going to believe me when I tell you that after 3 years of dating you and knowing your favorite cake, I cracked the recipe- ”

You didn't even think about anything else, you immediately turned to her side, putting all of the things on the kitchen aisle, as you asked worriedly while checking her for any types of injuries.“Lee? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Do you want anything?-”

“I need to tell you something” Your girlfriend interrupted with a tone, you swear you have never heard from her. It was cold but at the same time vulnerable. She glances at the wine glass, not looking at you.

Pain and worries flashed through your eyes when you felt the sudden change of attitude. You felt the wall she had put between you guys when you entered the apartment, no greeting, kiss, or hug. It felt like you were nobody. That morning everything was perfect. Why is this happening now? Why the sudden change?.

You started to say before stopping, taking her in. She was not okay and she needs you now. It didn't matter if you would wake up tomorrow sick, what matter was that Lena was okay.“Lee do you mind if i- you know what that doesn't matter, you are first.”

You quickly went to one of the bar stools and sat down facing Lena. You went to grab her hands, and she quickly put them away from you. There was the moment you knew the hurt in your eyes could be seen by everyone.

You cleared your throat, shaking away the tears that were overwhelming your eyes before speaking, as carefully and softly as possible.“What's up? What did you want to tell me, Lena?”

“Kara told me she loves me” After a few seconds of silence, she took another sip of her glass before admitting.

Your stomach drops. Your throat was caught. You stopped breathing. You felt the world fall down on you. You saw how every piece of the future you had imagined left in the late nights. You knew what was going to happen, just because you studied film doesn't mean you can't solve a simple riddle. You knew the other shoe was going to drop.

You whispered incoherently, still not being able to think or speak “Ohh- i...I didn't- Ummm”

When Lena cleared her throat and her glance and yours connected waiting for an answer. You whispered softly not figuring out what to say “I didn't know”

The silence overwhelmed you. You felt your chest tighten. Your sense of cold and wet clothes in yourself became uncomfortable. The smell of the wine made you nauseous. The way you felt your mouth to go dry. Your eyes blinked away the tears, but the hurt in them couldn't go away. Your hands closing tingly almost cutting blood with your nails. You knew you had lost her, but did you lose her if you never really had her.

“Can you say something?” Lena said with anxiety in her voice, you could see her walls slowly coming down. 

You pulled away from her glance, painfully looking around the apartment not wanting for her to see the pain in your eyes. As your eyes ranked around the apartment memories of the two of you came running through your head as you responded quietly, pained and hesitant of the answer ”Do you...?”

You went, you heard her sigh again, you knew everything was over. You closed your eyes hoping it was all a nightmare, that this wasn't happening, that Lena loved you, and that she wanted to be with you, not someone else, someone better.“Somehow, deep down I felt the same, and that came crashing down”

When the words finally fell out of her lips, all you felt was pain and emptiness. There wasn't anything else but it. You knew you had lost everything, your light, your heart, your world. Right there you had empathized with Kara’s feelings after leaving Krypton. 

You kept your eyes closed, putting yourself together knowing that if you did or said the wrong thing, Kara and Lena would not be happy. And how selfish of you could be, to make two of your favorite people in the world to hurt. You wouldn't do that, to anyone less to your sister and the love of your life.

You knew Kara was better for her, Kara had a stable job, a great personality, a status that can be compared to Lena’s, She had superpowers, she is Supergirl, She was out of this world literally. For Rao’s sake how could she not want her instead of you, she was perfect.

You who was only a 24-year-old woman. You who studied film school but weren't good enough to get a job in your field. You who played soccer and basketball in high school but weren't good enough to make it to college. You who could barely survive in National City with two jobs. You who the school fired because you weren't a good enough music teacher. You who worked at a bakery as the pastry chef. You with trust and abandonment issues. You who had some much baggage because of your past relationships. You who were scared of the dark as a grown woman. You with self-esteem issues.You who were broken. 

You wouldn't be good enough for anything and less Lena Luthor, the good Luthor, a genius, the CEO of one of the most important companies in the world. How could you ever be enough for her?

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes, to see the two eyes you felt more in love with every day staring at you, waiting for your reaction. Lena had thought she was subtle but you saw the fear in her eyes, as tears overwhelmed them. There was the border, you would never want Lena to cry, or Lena to be other than happy and okay. 

You whispered as you slowly got up from the stool putting it back, taking her in, one last time. The weight of the world in your shoulders as you did. “Okay” 

Your eyes examined her hair, as you remember how many times you had comfortably run your hand through her hair after a long day. You saw her nose and remembered how many times you had softly leaned in, sharing an Eskimo kiss. You looked at her eyebrows as you remembered every time she had raised them, when you did something childish funny, before laughing with you. Her cheeks made you remember every time you would make her laugh as the dimples came out. Her lips remained you of every kiss, every time she would ground you with only one breath when you were panicking.

“You know, you two deserve the whole universe, and I know Kara will give it to you, as you will do with her. I know she will give you everything I couldn't, and that she is the better option. I mean we are talking about Kara, she is perfect. What isn't it to love?”Lena was perfect for you, but you knew you had to let go, for her and Kara to be happy. You concluded before walking to the door not bothering to take any of your belongings.

Lena watched you as you walked away in silence, her glance burning in the back of your neck. It was a second before grabbing the doorknob, with tears threatening to come out and a hitched breath you spoke with a sad smile.“You deserved all the happiness in the world, I will come for my things tomorrow morning, I wish you the very best Miss. Luthor”

The moment you closed the door, the world came down on you. Everything was gone. You didn't know what was going to happen to you, you knew you wouldn't go to Alex and any less Kara. You couldn't blame your sister, it was Lena you were talking about. She was perfect, she was the person you fell in love with after 3 months of dating. And you couldn't blame Lena for not wanting Kara. She was royalty, she was perfect, she was the sun, and you were not.

You just knew you had to be okay...for them.

[thebookreader12345]

Identity Loss - Chapter Three

Chapter One     Chapter Two

It had been about a week since my apparent accident, and my memories still hadn’t come back, no matter how much I tried to get them to resurface. Will was trying to help me out too. Whenever he wasn’t working, he was doing things that we used to love, or ordering foods I used to enjoy. The hope was that maybe something would click a memory, but so far, nothing had worked. 

I groaned as the alarm clock next to be beeped for the hundredth time, and reached over to turn it off for good. I had been trying to get some more sleep, but every ten minutes, the alarm would blare in my ear, jolting me out of my sleep. Since  that obviously wasn’t working out, I guess it was time for me to get up. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, enjoying the feeling of stretching my stiff limbs. I then pushed the blanket off of my body and climbed out of the bed, slipping on the slippers that were right next to me. Padding out to the living room, a yawn escaped my lips, and just as it did, the front door to the apartment opened, and Will stepped inside.

“Hey,” Will greeted and set him stuff down before scanning me up and down. When he saw that I was still in my pajamas, he frowned. “Did you just wake up?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” I question and run a hand through my hair, which was probably a mess at the moment, but I didn’t care.

“Y/N, it’s time for lunch,” Will noted.

“I reckon I didn’t use to sleep in this late,” I guess and make my way to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“No. You were more of an early bird. Are those my slippers?” Will quizzed as he glanced down at my feet. I looked down at the house shoes covering my feet, and a slight blush tinted my cheeks as I noticed that I was indeed wearing Will’s slippers.

“Oh. Uh, sorry,” I confess.

Will smiled. “No worries. You uh, you actually used to do that quite a lot.”

I stopped making coffee to turn and look at him. “What are you saying? Is this a repressed memory coming back or something?”

Will shrugged. “No idea. But it’s a start.”

“So, what are you doing back so early? You’re supposed to be at work,” I point out.

“Ms. Goodwin let me take a half day. I’ve got a bunch of plans for us,” Will told me. “We’re gonna head downtown to see some of your favorite spots and then we’re going to-”

I cut Will off as a bit of anger swelled up inside of me. “What’s the point, Will? Ordering all of my favorite food didn’t work, and neither did doing all of my favorite activities, so this probably won’t either. Lets just face it. I’m never going to get my memories back.” I walked over to the couch and took a seat, pulling my knees up to my chest. Seconds later, Will did the same. He sat down on the cushion next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“Look, I know it may seem like you’re never going to remember anything. But trust me when I say that you will get your memories back. It may be today or next month, but it will happen. I’ve seen plenty of patients have similar accidents, and they’ve all come back, so I have hope that you’ll do the same. I just, I need you to have hope too,” Will explained. 

I took a deep breath, and all at once, the anger seemed to leave my body. This situation felt very familiar; Will trying to calm me down just by using his words. The little moments like these made me feel connected to my past self, and in a way, they filled me with content.

“Okay,” I murmur. “What have you got planned for us today?”

...............................................

Stop One: Buckingham Fountain

I stared up at the fountain in front of me, contemplating why my former self liked to come here. The fountain was beautiful in a majestic kind of way, but the current me would never go out of my way to come here.

“What’s the point of this place?” I ask Will, who was standing beside me admiring the fountain.

“It’s a fountain,” Will stated as if it were obvious. “You make a wish and throw a coin into the water, hoping that it will come true.”

“And I used to believe in this?” I question.

“A little, yeah,” Will confessed. “We came here on our first date, and you threw a coin into the fountain, wishing that our relationship would keep growing and stay strong forever. And look where we are now. We’re supposed to be getting married in a few months.” Will then took a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here. Make a wish. Maybe it’ll come true.”

I hesitantly took the coin from his hand, staring down at the dull metal disc in my palm. I closed my fingers around the quarter and shut my eyes, thinking about the wish I wanted to make. But it didn’t take me that long to come up with one. I wish I could remember my old life. And with that, I tossed the coin into the fountain, watching as it sank to the floor where it settled in with all of the other wishes.

Stop Two: The Bean

I’ll admit, the Bean was pretty cool. It was just a large sculpture of a bean, but the way it was covered in one big mirror was what made it special. I loved the way you could see Chicago’s many skyscrapers from the reflective sides of the figure, and I also enjoyed the way the light bounced off of the statue.

“Wow,” I breathe out. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah. The old you used to think so too. You always came here when you wanted to be alone. Whether it was because of a tough shift at work or because you needed to make a big decision, you’d be here,” Will told me.

“Why do I get the feeling I used to come here after we had a big fight?” I question and turn to face Will.

Will laughed softly. “Because you did. One day during shift, we had a heated argument over the course of treatment for a patient, and after work you came here. I gave you some alone time before I drove down here so we could talk things out. We eventually figured things out, but that was the moment I knew I never wanted to lose you.”

Stop Three: The Riverwalk

The Riverwalk was filled with families and tons of smiling faces. There were college kids sitting around studying, parents watching their children talk excitedly, and even couples strolling alongside the river. I glanced over at Will, who was walking next to me, and my eyes traveled down to his hand. All I could think about was what it would be like to hold his hand and lace our fingers together. My eyes also caught sight of the engagement ring sitting on my finger. I kept it on, hoping it would help me remember my past life, but it didn’t do much seeing as I still had no memories.

“It’s a shame I can’t remember any of these places,” I say. “It seems like we had some good memories in all of them.”

“One of the perks of living in Chicago; there’s always something to see or do,” Will noted. Again, my gaze shifted down to Will’s hand, and the desperation to take hold of it overpowered me, so I did it. I reached over and took his hand in mine, entwining our fingers. Will didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to in order for me to understand that he didn’t mind. He didn’t pull his hand away, and he gave my hand a small squeeze, so we kept our hands locked together as we walked.

Stop Four: Lakefront Trail

“Here we are. The last stop,” Will announced as he parked the car. I climbed out of the passenger seat and took in the lake in front of us. The trail in front of us wasn’t as crowded as the Riverwalk, but every few seconds, someone either jogged by, walked along, or rode past on a bicycle. From where we were on the trail, the Chicago skyline stood in the distance, it’s tall buildings jutting into the bright sky. That’s when I recognized where we were. This was the Lakefront Trail, the same place where the engagement photo back at the apartment was taken.

“You recognize this?” Will asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, but not from a memory. This is where that engagement photo in the living room was taken.”

“You actually picked out the destination,” Will spoke. “I wanted to do it on the beach, but you convinced me that this was a better spot.” For a few moments, the two of us stared at the horizon in silence, admiring the view. Finally though, I spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?” I question.

“Sure,” Will replied. “What’s up?”

“What happens if I don’t get my memories back?” I quiz.

“Y/N,” Will started, only for me to interrupt him.

“I’m serious, Will. Be honest with me here,” I plead. “What’s gonna happen to my career if I can’t remember anything? What’s gonna happen to us?”

Will sighed and kept his gaze trained at the lake in front of us. “I uh, I don’t know. I would love for you to get your memories back so that things could go back to the way they were before. And if that doesn’t happen, I guess you’ll have to start all over again. You know, figure out what you want to do. I don’t want to say this, but if that means we have to split up because you don’t want to be with me anymore, then so be it. I’m not going to force you to stay with me, and I’m definitely not going to force you to go back to Med if you don’t want to.”

“It’s funny that you bring that up. I remember everything I learned in med school to be a doctor. I could diagnose a patient right now if I wanted to, and I guarantee you that my diagnosis would be spot on. I don’t know why I can remember all sorts of illnesses and diseases, but not remember my life the way it was before, and that annoys me. All I want is for things just to go back to normal,” I let out.

“Yeah. Me too,” Will murmured. For a few more minutes the two of us stayed and took in the view, but Will soon turned his eyes away from the setting sun. “You ready to head back to the apartment?”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I want to do,” I declare and lean up, pressing my lips to his. All day, the one thing I wanted more than anything was to kiss Will and relish the way his lips feel against my own. And now, here I was doing just that. I cupped Will’s cheeks in my hands as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest. One moment, I couldn’t remember anything, and the next, a rush of memories flooded my brain.

I remember Will and I’s first date at Buckingham Fountain, and the kiss we shared when he dropped me back off at my apartment. I remember staring at the Bean, hoping that it would help me figure out how to go home and face Will after we had an argument. I remember the countless walks Will and I shared on the Riverwalk. I remember taking the engagement photo here on the Lakefront Trail. And there were many more memories popping up in my head as well. Natalie, Maggie, and I drinking wine at on the couch in Nat’s house. Me helping Connor diagnose a cardio patient whose symptoms didn’t seem to fit any illness. April and I chatting away at the nurses’ station about our love lives. Will proposing to me in the lobby of Chicago Med. And I remembered my accident, the day my life went to hell.

“Y/N? You okay?” Will asked when he noticed that I had pulled away from him.

“Will, I remember. I remember everything,” I state. Will grinned widely and picked me up, spinning me around. When he placed me back on the ground, he swooped in and kissed me again, this time more passionately.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Will mumbled and leaned his forehead against mine. “I told you this would work.”

“Oh shut up,” I joke. “Mind if we head back to the apartment now? I’m kind of tired after today. Getting all of my memories back really wore me out.”

“Yeah. Of course. Lets go. There are so many things I want to you with you right now, but I think I can manage to hold them off until later. Lets go,” Will said and laced his hand with mine before leading me back to his car.

The Next Day...

“Will, the cafeteria is that way,” I point out as Will led me down a hallway towards the ED. I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning, so I was pretty hungry at the moment.

“I know, but there’s something I’ve got to show you first. Come on,” Will ordered lightly. I continued following Will, and he led me all the way to the residents’ lounge, inside of which were all of my friends and co-workers.

“Welcome back Y/N!” they all shouted as Will and I entered the room. 

I smiled at all of the people in front of me and turned to Will. “Did you do this?”

Will shook his head. “As much as I would love to take credit for all of this, it was Natalie and Maggie’s idea.”

“Well, I guess I should go and thank them. And say hello to everyone else,” I add. “But I will come find you later. I believe the day of my accident, we were interrupted just before we were about to do something. I’d very much love to continue that.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Now go and talk to everyone else. You’ve spent enough time with me,” Will exclaimed.

“Okay,” I mutter and lean up to place a quick peck on his lips. “I love you.”

Will grinned. “I love you too. Always have, always will.”

THE END

..........................................

And that’s the end of the story! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I certainly did. Comment down below your favorite chapter out of the three, and also tell me your favorite part of the story. Thanks for reading!

_____________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett​ @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @i-like-sparkly-things

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 5)

Title: a Home for the Lost (why were they cast aside?)

Summary: None of it went to plan.

Ranboo never planned on facing it, Tommy never planned on leaving, Fundy didn't plan on losing the one place where he belonged. Sam didn't plan on opening his house to a bunch of traumatized hybrids that would worm their way into his heart.

And yet, here they were. Here they were, together. Maybe that was the best part of it all. Part 1 Part 6 Masterlist

_____

Ranboo started learning about everything that he’d missed, like how Tommy’s wings came to be and what people had been up to. Other things, he just noticed. He was very perceptive, and it only served to isolate him from everyone more. He could tell things that other people would rather not face, like how Tommy pretended that everything was fine with Phil and Techno and himself. How he pretended that they were a family, and as they relaxed together, how he would show his vulnerability. Ranboo would’ve bought the act that Tommy believed in wholeheartedly, if not for one thing.

Tommy never let them preen his wings.

So yeah, they could all pretend in their little dollhouse that everything was fine and that their relations were fixed, but it would never be perfect. They could believe it all they wanted, but subconsciously, they knew it’d never go back to the way it was before. Maybe that’s why they so desperately put on a show.

Ranboo noticed these things. All the time, to be honest.

He also noticed that slowly, after he had returned and told Tommy why he’d left, that Tommy drifted slightly from his old family. It wasn’t a bad thing, if a little sad, because he’d found another that believed in him and wanted the best for him instead of trying to make up for using him. 

On a different note in the same tune, Sam and Puffy were angels sent from heaven. Nothing could convince Ranboo otherwise. The way they had gently pushed Tommy in the right direction, understanding how messed up he’d been and knowing that harshness wasn’t the way to fix it. Maybe that’s why when they saw Ranboo accompanying Tommy on one of his visits, they recognized his unrest.

Ranboo knew they had a past, those three. He didn’t think Tommy realized it, but they’d adopted him. They’d decided that Phil wasn’t fit to be a father to anyone but Technoblade long ago, and he was amazed at the subtle way they’d taught him to be better. Maybe they were the reason, then, that he’d matured so much. Maybe they could be his family, too.

And they were.

Phil and Techno still received visits from Tommy every now and then, and Tubbo was over most of the time because at the end of the day they were still best friends, but in their own time they realized that maybe it was best to let bygones be bygones. They’d always be close, they’d always love each other, but maybe this time, the damage was done. In this case, it was okay. It was never mentioned, it was never brought up, but it was acknowledged by everyone. He couldn’t really cut them out, not that he wanted to, but he couldn’t have even if he did, not with the constant reminder on his back that he would always be Phil’s son.

Instead, Tommy spent most of his days at Sam’s base, and Ranboo spent most of his time with Tommy, so they ended up just hanging out with Sam and Puffy more than they intended. Maybe it was all part of the plan for the two older adults.

In any case, Ranboo grew closer and more comfortable with the other three, until soon, he wasn’t quiet and reserved anymore. He wasn’t scared of his own shadow, flinching at every footstep. He was Ranboo again, and he owed it to his family. Maybe, now that he’d healed, he’d be able to face the family he’d lost.

_______________

The summer afternoon found Tommy and Ranboo under a tree, half asleep and lazy, one writing and the other talking. It was hot, and muggy, but Sam had said that he needed to do some renovations and Puffy was away. Ranboo knew she was spending time with Niki, but he had yet to go with her to see his sister.

Did that technically make Ranboo Puffy’s sister-in-law? Or was Niki now his step-mother?

He didn’t want to think on it too much. It’d just make his head hurt.

Ranboo didn’t even completely know what Tommy was rambling about, but he smiled and nodded and he did truly enjoy it. Or, he enjoyed Tommy’s company. Was there a difference?

He zoned in when Tommy nudged his shoulder. “Hey, big man, you awake?”

Rolling his eyes, Ranboo responded. “I am now. What’s up?”

“Something I just remembered, Ranboo- I, now here’s a biggie-” Tommy paused for suspense. “I know how to fly a plane, but-”

“Hold on, you can fly a plane?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy shrugged. “I didn’t appear here, a 16 year old. I had other experiences. Anyway, I know how to fly a plane but I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

“A bike?”

Tommy mistook Ranboo’s confusion for mockery. “Yeah, big man. Phil never taught me. Who taught you, if you’re such a pro?”

“Tommy, I barely even know what a bike is.” Ranboo deadpanned.

So, now, the two young men, for that’s what they were at this point, stood outside of the base that they had been told to stay out of all day. Specifically, they were to stay out of it unless it was an emergency. Was this an emergency? See, that’s where it gets complicated.

“What kind of man my age doesn’t know how to ride a bike?” Tommy argued, “We need to learn and clearly, we haven’t got one. I think that Sam might. He strikes me as a bicycle kind of guy.”

“Neither of us are dying, though!” Ranboo protested. “He’ll probably get mad if we interrupt him, too. What’s he even doing?” 

Tommy groaned. “He’s just, I don’t know, building n’ shit. It’ll take two seconds, Ranboo, come on-”

The large door opened, and though neither of them were short, they felt incredibly small. And nervous.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked, looking at his two- his uh, his two mentees. Yeah, that’s it. Mentees. That’s the word he’s looking for. Definitely not something else. At all.

The two- well, now, they looked like boys, - stared at him, anxiously, suddenly at a loss for words. 

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done with building, it didn’t take as long as I thought it would. What do you guys need?”

“We don’t know how to ride a-”

Tommy interrupted, “What Ranboo’s trying to say is, neither of us had spectacular father figures in our early life, and we don’t- well, really, we were wondering if you happened to have a bicycle anywhere here? I’m sure we can figure it out on our own, but we don’t have any bikes, is the issue-”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ve got a bike around here somewhere, come help me look.”

So, Sam turned and left, leaving Ranboo and Tommy to trail after him. Not like little ducklings. Not at all. More like, uh… more like… something else. Not ducklings.

After rummaging around a bit, they found one, and after a little more searching, they found another. None of them were sure why Sam, who lived alone, had two bikes (could he even ride them? He pleads the fifth. Why? You’ll find out later.), but they weren’t going to complain. Now, Ranboo and Tommy had thought that Sam would hand them the bikes and let them be off, but, to their surprise, he didn’t. He took the handles of one and walked with it over to a path.

“Hey Sam, why are you going over there?” Tommy yelled, still standing by the main entrance.

“Well, you aren’t going to bike on the grass, are you?”

Wordlessly, Ranboo and Tommy jogged to catch up. Sam stood on the pavement, holding one bike, as Ranboo walked up with the other. He handed his to Tommy, and clapped, bringing the attention back to him. 

“Alright! So, get on the bikes.” Both of the younger men knew what he was doing. They didn’t say anything, though, and obeyed. “So, when you bike, you have to stay balanced…”

They spent the afternoon learning how to ride bikes, and though it maybe wasn’t the most productive way to spend an afternoon, it was a fun and relaxing one that they all needed. It ended with Sam sitting in the grass next to the road while Tommy and Ranboo rode their bikes up and down it. They all chatted, and laughed, and they barely even heard Puffy return. At least, not until she spoke up.

“Hey guys, I’m back! And, I… I brought someone with me.”

Ranboo stopped his bike and turned to where the voice was coming from, stopping all movements abruptly. Sure, Puffy was standing there and he was happy to see her back, but right next to her, looking nervous, was Niki. Not his sister. She’d made sure of that. She was Niki, nothing more.

“Hi, Ranboo.” She said, not meeting his eyes. “It’s been a bit.”

When had Sam and Tommy left? “Yeah. Hi, Niki. What’re you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended.

“I thought- well, I figured, now that we’ve both had a little more time to, to think about things, I thought that I could come and… apologize.”

It was a little quieter then. Niki was waiting for a response, and Ranboo was thinking of one. What did he want to do? As much as he wanted to forgive her, some of the things that she’d done couldn’t be glossed over.

“I… I forgive you.” Ranboo started, “But, Niki… Niki, you’ve got to understand, you hurt me. You hurt me a lot.”

Niki sighed. “I know. I know I did, Ranboo, but at the end of the day, aren’t you still my brother?”

His chest felt like it closed. Was he? “I’m not sure I am anymore, Niki. I don’t even know who you are.” He looked away from her crestfallen face. “But… I think I’d be willing to re-start.”

He looked back up, and Niki looked a little happier. A bittersweet cheerfulness. He held his arms open, and she ran over to give him a hug. Maybe they weren’t family anymore, but they could be. They just had to hope. This time, neither of them pulled away from the hug. They didn’t want to, but at some point, Puffy told them that it was going to get dark soon, so they needed to head inside.

Sam and Tommy were in the kitchen, making dinner, although only one of them was really working. 

Niki and Puffy stayed for dinner before heading home. It went great, and it was a very relaxed atmosphere. They chatted, made fun of Tommy when he was clumsy with his wings, and laughed every time someone made a joke. Ranboo was truly happy, and he hoped it lasted this time.

That night, when it was dark and the noises of the forest had all settled, Ranboo was thinking. “Hey, Sam, where’s the renovations you were working on this morning? I can’t tell a difference here-”

“Forget that, Ranboo,” Tommy said while yawning, wings hitting the hybrid gently. “We’ve gotta head out if we want to make it back to the cottage in time for a good night’s sleep.”

“Well, about that…” Sam said, laughing a little. “Follow me.” They did, and they followed him down a hallway to two doors, right next to each other.  “Left is for Ranboo, right is for Tommy. I mean, you don’t have to use them, and obviously you can decorate them how you want to, but…”

They each opened their doors, and they were met with little bedrooms. Not too little, but not too large, each with a bed in a corner, a chest, and some other bits of furniture. “Did you make bedrooms for us?” Ranboo asked, and once Sam nodded, he grinned. “That’s great! Could we stay the night? Please?”

“That’s kind of what they’re here for.” Sam said, and he melted inside at the happy grins that Ranboo and Tommy exchanged. “I’ll let you guys get comfy, uh, goodnight?”

“Goodnight!” The other two cheered, nearly crushing Sam in a hug before going to their rooms.

By all means, it should’ve been a peaceful night, but when there’s a traumatized hybrid involved, you never know what to expect. That night, Ranboo’s dreams were plagued with nightmares, all violent and scary and loud- he didn’t know exactly what was happening, but he knew that he was there with Fundy, on the ground and bleeding. He could feel the tears rolling down his face, this time they burned again, with new vigor, and he was forced to look the fox in the eyes as they dimmed. He didn’t know why he started crying harder, but soon he turned to see who had killed his friend, and there stood Dream, hair long from his time in prison.

“It was only a matter of time until I escaped, Ranboo.” Dream taunted. “Ranboo!”

He was scared. Was he going to die?

“Ranboo, wake up!”

And, just like that, he sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Tommy was near, but that didn’t make sense, they didn’t share a room. What was Tommy doing here? Ranboo could feel wings circling around his body, comforting and warm, as he tried to calm down.

“You alright, Ranboo?”

He managed to nod, but it probably wasn’t convincing. He still couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t Dream just leave him alone?

“Am I okay to leave, or-”

“Can you stay?” His voice sounded small, even to him, and was hoarse from screaming in terror. Sam must’ve been a deep sleeper to not wake up.

“Sure thing, man.”

They went back to sleep, then, Ranboo curled in on himself with one of Tommy’s wings draped over him protectively. This time, they slept well, and when Sam went to wake them up the next morning, he did nothing but smile and walk away. He’d let them rest. They’d more than earned it.

When Ranboo’s eyes slipped open a few hours later, he let out a small sigh. He was warm, and he was happy, and he didn’t ever want to move. He was content to have stayed in bed for hours, but then he felt the blankets behind him shift. He let out a confused little warble that sounded remarkably like a cat getting its sleep interrupted.

“What was that?” Tommy groaned. “My ears aren’t started yet. Catch me in a few minutes.”

It was more than a few minutes before they got out of bed, hair wild and eyes still half-closed despite the sun that shone through the windows. Sam greeted them with a cheerful, “Hello,” to which they responded with a vague grunt. They were very articulate in the morning, it appeared. By all means, it should’ve been a dream. It should have been the best thing to happen to him in a while, and it was. But, Ranboo couldn’t shake the underlying feeling of dread that plagued his mind. 

“Ah, what do you want to do today, Ranboo?” Tommy asked loudly, sprawled out across the couch and head lolling back. 

Ranboo thought for a moment, the pit in his stomach growing. “I think that maybe we should go on a trip today, to… to uh, to visit Fundy.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his head. “Fundy? As in, my nephew, Fundy?”

Nodding, Ranboo fidgeted with his hands. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“‘Course it is, big man. You want to go now?”

Ranboo got up swiftly. “If that’s okay. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They bid Sam goodbye, and went off towards Fundy’s house. It took them a while, because they had to ask Niki for the coords, but they found it eventually. Fundy lived in a village that had gone unnoticed, a peaceful haven that usually would’ve been somewhere for weary travelers to rest. Now, however, the air was thick with dust and there was no one to be seen. The first houses that Tommy and Ranboo found were nothing but ruin, the ashes still smoldering. It was only after a shrill horn could be heard that they realized what was happening.

There was a raid.

They broke into a run, swords pulled out. They yelled for Fundy, and the only response they got was the sound of the Illagers that they ran towards. 

Fighting seemed to go on forever as Ranboo and Tommy slashed at the enemy, backs to each other, until finally they got a chance to breathe. There weren’t as many, though still a lot. Ranboo tried to listen harder, trying to detect even a hint of life in one of the houses. When he heard a soft whimper, he grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him to it.

When they saw two Illagers standing over Fundy with their crossbows out, they didn’t hesitate to throw themselves forward. They looked up over the bodies, then, and their eyes softened when they saw how Fundy curled up into himself. He was so small, and he still had his eyes tightly shut.

Tommy got up and wiped his bloody hands on his pants before going over to Fundy. “Hey, Fundy. Is it alright if I touch you?” Tommy didn’t even really have to ask, because the minute Fundy saw the blond, he latched onto his arm. Ranboo hadn’t ever seen Tommy look so awkward, slowly putting his arms around the fox that really wasn’t all that younger than he was. 

They’d all had their childhoods stolen from them, it seemed. 

Fundy was inconsolable, and Tommy motioned for Ranboo to help. They seemed to have the same idea, when Ranboo gathered the fox into his arms and they walked outside to see the still-smoking ruins of all the houses. 

When Fundy stopped crying for a moment, and opened his eyes, he did nothing but utter a small, “Ranboo?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Ranboo said, and was surprised when Fundy closed his eyes again to burrow further into his hold. 

Sam had to do a double-take when the boys got home. “Is that Fundy?” He asked, getting up quickly.

Tommy and Ranboo paused, like children who had been caught sneaking a pet indoors. Only, they were tall young men with a traumatized fox hybrid in their arms. Who, Sam soon learned, was now homeless.

“Please, can he stay with us Sam, please?” Tommy had pleaded, Ranboo standing near, still holding Fundy. “He’s got nowhere else to go, Sam, please?”

And, well, Sam took one look at his little brothers and had to concede. “Of course he can stay,” Sam said, already coming up for a plan for Fundy’s room.

Later that night, once Fundy had been told he was fine to stay and was sharing a room with Tommy (all three of the boys, for that’s how Sam fondly thought of them, ended up crammed into one bed by the morning, though, and neither of them knew which one of them had the nightmare. Maybe it was all three.), Sam let out a soft chuckle. 

He really was collecting a menagerie of fucked-up kids, wasn’t he? Only, they weren’t really kids anymore.

Well, he was growing his little family, and if no one else was going to let these kiddos heal, he would. They deserved the chances that war and adulthood had stolen from them. They deserved the love that he was set on giving them.

[ccohanlon]

rising

They were digging up pipes in the alley again.

Three young men in orange overalls stood waist- deep in a trench trench, unfazed by an acrid smell of human waste that filled the narrow, cobble- stoned dead-end. One of the young men had a lighted cigarette in his mouth and there was a sudden, loud pop and a flash of blue-green flame as it ignited a tendril of leaking biogas. Fearless of the risk of a bigger explosion, the three men just cackled and kept on working.

A few of us stood in our doorways, watching. The medina's sewers were often blocked and sometimes, they overflowed into the courtyards of our riads, submerging the tiled floors beneath a vomitous soup of decomposed excrement.

In the past couple of days, different parts of the medina had been flooded by what was thought to be sea-water. It had risen from public drains, some said, or had seeped from dubious hollows beneath the medina's oldest neighbourhoods. Others had seen it streaming from the seams of a medieval sea gate beneath the north-west ramparts, at the onset of the spring tide. But no-one had given it much thought: the inexplicable had been a commonplace of life here for over a thousand years — sometimes incidents of it were recalled as miracles.

The alley darkened as the sun dipped below the medina walls. A tinny crackle, a second or two of ringing feedback, then the dissonant, amplified drone of mua'dhinns from different mosques calling the faithful together for the last salah of the day — salat al-'asr. I waited until everybody else had retreated inside their riads and closed the doors before I did the same.

It had been two weeks since the wind had died. At this time of year, midway through summer, the north-easterly trade wind the Berbers called the taros was relentless. Seldom blowing less than 20 knots, day or night, along the Atlantic coast, it cooled the coastal towns and villages and held the flies and mosquitoes at bay. It was unusual — and for locals, unsettling — for calm to endure for more than a few days. You could still hear the  remnants of the south-going swell tumbling over the inshore reefs to break against the medina's westernmost walls.

I had found a small hardwood table and bench in a storage room on my riad's rooftop. I dragged them across the fractured tiles and positioned them in the one spot where there was a view — framed by crumbling plaster and unpainted breeze-block — of a sliver of ocean. I sat at the table and scribbled random observations of the past few days in pencil in a small, spiral notebook. They were rudimentary, unembellished, more aides-memoire than diary. I was not a writer. I was not even a note-maker. I still can't explain why I felt the need to do this.

I can't explain the Dowayo doll, either. I found it at the back of the same storage room. Carved from sub-Saharan rosewood, bound with tiny red beads and cowrie shells, it had been tossed into a pile of kindling and charcoal, and was covered with dust. I wiped it clean with a damp cloth and placed it on the table as a kind of totem. Dowayo dolls are supposed to encourage fertility in young girls of the Namji tribe in north-western Cameroon. I wondered how it had made its way here across 3,000 miles of desert.

Every morning since I moved into the riad, this old man pedalled down the alley on a rusty, French-built bicycle, towing a makeshift trailer. The trailer was the chassis and axle of a baby's pram, married to a wooden fruit box. As he rode, he squeezed a rubber-bulbed air horn clamped to the handlebars — it sounded like a goose's honk — to remind everyone to bring out their empty plastic bottles. He stopped at each riad to collect them and to spray the stoop and gutters with rose-scented antiseptic. If nothing else, it masked the smell of cat piss.

I always woke before dawn, to the mua'dhinns' first calls to prayer, but I stayed in bed until I heard the old man's horn as he turned into the alley. Then I got up, gathered my bottles from the kitchen and met him outside the front door.

I hadn't heard his horn today. Above the riad's open roof, the sun had already burned off the pale grey stratus of the marine layer, so it was late morning. I crab-walked barefoot down the curving tiled staircase to the ground-floor courtyard and stepped into cold water. For a few, gag-inducing seconds, I thought it was sewerage from the household drains and I cursed the young workers who had dug up the alley. But the water was clear and smelled faintly of seaweed left too long in the sun.

I waded barefoot along the flooded alley to the junction with the long avenue that was one of the medina's main thoroughfares. A shallow river flowed along it from the direction of the harbour, carrying with it rafts of refuse and debris. The stalls that sold leather bags, shoes, carved wooden bowls and boxes, colourful carpets, djellabas, argan oil, incense, and scented candles were all shuttered and the cafés had packed away their tables and chairs. There was no-one on the streets, not even the wizened mendicants that worked the tourist trade. I walked to another alley, a short-cut to the souk. Carozza men, pushing wooden carts piled with luggage, led groups of jittery, dishevelled tourists along it towards the bus terminal on the other side of the medina.

The water had yet to reach the souk but most of the stalls were empty. A few elderly women carried plastic bags filled with green vegetables and live chickens, clutched upside down by their legs. Fruit sellers with long trays filled with tomatoes, cherries and baskets of desiccated figs and apricots were wheeling them eastwards, towards the gate that exited into the medina's pub- lic car park.

"Is everywhere closed?" I asked one of them.

"Rimal. Le sable.”

"Sand?”

"Oui. Ça arrive." He waved towards an empty sky but I noticed, then, that the wind had returned. It felt hot and dry."Chergui," he said.

As if to make up for this news, he handed me a brown paper bag filled with ripe tomatoes.

The flood reached the souk as rivulets cascading over steps and sidewalks from colonnades on either side of the road, flushing the copper-tinged stench of blood from the floors of fishmongers, butchers, and poultry slaughterers into the street.

By nightfall, the water level in the riad's courtyard had receded a little — the semi-diurnal tide, I thought, nothing more than a brief respite. The electricity and fresh water had been cut off and the riad was dark, the only source of light an aqueous half-moon over the roof. The cloistered, inside-outside architecture of a riad — open to the sky, full of bright, reflected light by day, yet cool, with shaded vaults, and as protective as a medieval keep — was everything I had ever wanted of a house. But tonight, it felt besieged.

I climbed up the narrow stairwell to the rooftop. I unrolled a heavy canvas covering and slid its rectangular hem over the timber balustrade surrounding the open part of the roof. Tied down with elasticised cord looped over hooks at the base of the newel posts, it looked like a military tent. The irony of sealing the roof while the sea flooded the courtyard below was not lost on me but a strong chergui could carry enough sand from inland to bury the whole medina.

When I was done, I shinned my way up one of the crumbling plaster walls around the roof to see what I could of my neighbours — did I still have neighbours? The only light was from a rooftop two buildings away, where a family sat kindling a fire in a makeshift brick fire-pit. On a wall next to them, hung by bound hind legs on a butcher's hook, the carcass of a freshly killed goat, skinned, gutted and beheaded. One of the women waved to me. I waved back but felt suddenly embarrassed and a little lonely.

The wind was rising. To the east, the stars were disappearing behind by filaments of sand-laden stratus. I eased myself down the wall, picked up the Dowayo doll from my desk, and headed downstairs.

The wind and sand scoured the roof all night, the strongest gusts clawing at the roof tent as gouts of sand ricocheting across it like buckshot. By dawn, so much sand had accumulated that the door from the stairwell wouldn't open. But the wind had died.

A change of tide had swelled the sea in the courtyard, too, its surface strewn with granules of fine, orange dust.

I gathered a few clothes from drawers and wardrobes and packed them into an oiled canvas rucksack I had bought for desert hikes I never actually set out on. I added a Swiss army folding knife, as well as my passport, a notebook and pencil, a few hundred dollars in cash, a pair of well-worn Birkenstocks, and a wide-brimmed folding hat. In the kitchen, I found three large bottles of mineral water. and strapped them, along with a rolled, foam mat, a lightweight windcheater, and the Dowayo doll to the outside of the rucksack. I donned jeans and a long-sleeved, white, cotton shirt. I tied the laces of my canvas sneakers together and slung them over my shoulder.

The water in the alley had deepened. It came up to the knees of a gnarled old woman, who stood mid-stream, her black djellaba billowing around her like a buoyancy aid. I recognised her as one of my neighbours.

"Partez-vous?" she asked, as I waded past her. I nodded.

"Allez à l'est. Il ne reste plus rien au nord." Her tone was doleful but resigned.

I had not yet decided where I would head or even whether I was leaving. At the avenue at the end of the alley, I turn not east, towards the gate at the far end of the empty souk and beyond, the desert, but west, towards the sea.

The faithful were gathered outside a crowded mosque at the top of the avenue. They stood or sat on upturned plastic crates in the water to listen to voice of their imam over speakers mounted above the mosque's gates. On the far side of the wide square that filled the space between the last of the medina's buildings and the sea, sand dunes scaled the castellated stone walls of the old port. The square itself was an archipelago of barren, sandy cays scattered across a muddy sea.

I clambered over hillocks of coarse wet sand and bales of tangled nets and polypropylene rope blocking the passageway to the quayside. Hundreds of open, timber fishing-boats, all of them painted Egyptian blue, were unmoored and jammed together in every direction by the incoming tide; several had grounded on the submerged quay. I eased myself over the gunwhale of the nearest boat, into the deep well of its hull, then clambered onto the sternsheets to step across to the next boat, and the next, until I reached the outermost of the flotilla.

It was on old boat but solid, with a dry bilge. Oars were laid on the sole of its hull. Beneath a poorly secured hatch, I found two fuel tanks, both full, and an Evinrude outboard engine that I could start without a key. I laid my rucksack on the midship thwart. The Dowayo doll watched over me as set to work mounting the engine on the transom.

I waited until high water, that afternoon, to cast off. I drifted on the ebb through the outer harbour, between slab-sided, timber trawlers and the high, stone breakwaters, into the open Atlantic. A long, steep swell was still running, the last vestige of the once relentless taros. Last night’s hard wind had streaked the crests with whitecaps. I pulled the cord to start the outboard. The boat rolled as her stern lifted on the shoulder of a wave.

I shaped a rough course south-west. I had no chart, no compass, no waypoint to sail towards, but it didn't matter now. All bearings were lost. I would trace the contours of a new shore, where the desert had somehow become one with the sea.

First published in the collection, Zahir: Desire & Eclipse, a book by Zeno Press (edited by Christian Patracchini), UK, 2020.